One word: Prudie. Two words: Love her! A couple of well-deserved bitch-slapping responses to this week’s letters, which includes one about a possibly gay stepson, a woman whose heart is “fluttering so much that it’s cutting off the oxygen to her brain,” and a mother who can’t get over the son-in-law she never even had.
Go Camry. My last car was a Camry. My current car is a Camry. My next car will probably be… a Camry.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve made a trade in my “play money” brokerage account. I took a respectable 15% long-term gain of 100 shares of some of my Sonus Network Inc (SONS) stock, which I bought in January of 2005 at $5.25 a share. It reached as high as $6.40 per share today, and closed at $6.25. I sold at $6.293 per share.
I still own 200 shares that I bought in May of 2006 at $4.55 a share. That lot is up 33.9%, but I didn’t want to sell those shares as they are still in short-term gain status.
I plan to buy 100 or 200 more shares if it drops back below $5.00 again. It’s recently been upgraded, and has a target of $7 or $7.50 — something like that — in the next year, which is what I think is driving this little surge right now. However, they still have a “reporting incident” hanging over their heads that could temporarily set the price back, which is when I would buy more.
I like this company. They are leaders in VoIP market, which by all measures will continue to be a growing market, especially as more and more chat and social networking applications add the capability to talk via the Internet.
Brazen Bling — another CSI:MySpace incident.
And a camera that takes off 10 (or so) pounds. I think I’ll wait for the next version, hoping that it’ll also reduce your cholesterol by 25%.
I “called ahead” to CustCutters and was taken “next” when I arrived, in front of a rather hunky dude, his face buried in a magazine, and a ballcap obscuring more of his face. However, I could clearly see the stubble.
As I received my “5 on the top,” “3 on the sides,” with a “mid-area 4 blend,” he was transformed into a highway patrolman type as another stylist worked on him.
I got to dancing right at 9:00, and only Carl and Bill were there. Eventually, Ernie, Tony, and Geromy came.
There was this big, slightly (then more) inebriated guy named Kevin who said he could two-step, and tried to with Bill. It did not go well.
He then asked me to dance, and it did not go well either. He told me that he could two-step great with women, that that was the problem. I said, “Okay, I can be the follow, ” and I switched us around. Liar. He couldn’t lead either.
Also, he was another one of these people who imagines that they are such a good dancer in general that they can pick up line dances during the course of doing the dance for the first time. After about the 10th one, he resigned himself to the fact that it ain’t gonna happen.
Fortunately, he at least had the good sense to do it over to the side and back of the dance floor, and since we didn’t have that many dancers, he wasn’t bumping into those of us who actually knew what the hell we were doing. But I bitchily digress…
He started trying to twirl me around in Disco style, even then turning me in the wrong direction. “Stop,” I said. “I am not going to have you flinging me around this dance floor. We’re not disco-dancing to country music. It’s not appropriate.” Eventually he left me alone.
There ended up being a pretty good crowd out, and Carl taught “Crotch Rot.” I sure wish we knew the real name of that dance. We danced until just about midnight, and then it cleared out — just like that. [Insert finger snap here.]