Fortunate: These are my only problems in a world with events such as devastating tsunamis.
My hallway, the light areas of the hallway floor, are reflections of light on the water.
My toes making ripples in the hallway.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Good: Floods, Devastating Tsunamis
Stupid: Hard rain, leading to an inch or two water accumulation in the living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom and a hallway
Fortunate: These are my only problems in a world with events such as devastating tsunamis.
My hallway, the light areas of the hallway floor, are reflections of light on the water.
My toes making ripples in the hallway.
Fortunate: These are my only problems in a world with events such as devastating tsunamis.
My hallway, the light areas of the hallway floor, are reflections of light on the water.
My toes making ripples in the hallway.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Proof Positive
That my neighbors are crazy...
This is there home:
(Click for larger image)
It is decorated for Christmas, complete with multiple moving parts such as a small ferris wheel and ice skaters turning on a rink. I wish I was able to get a picture that did it justice. Those blackish portions on the bottom are people silhouettes. They have posted a sign that indicates it takes four weeks for them to set up and will cost $150 in electricity.
To me, this is just insanity.
I am glad someone else does it.
Merry Christmas.
This is there home:
(Click for larger image)
It is decorated for Christmas, complete with multiple moving parts such as a small ferris wheel and ice skaters turning on a rink. I wish I was able to get a picture that did it justice. Those blackish portions on the bottom are people silhouettes. They have posted a sign that indicates it takes four weeks for them to set up and will cost $150 in electricity.
To me, this is just insanity.
I am glad someone else does it.
Merry Christmas.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Hot, One For You-One For Me
The temperature deviation, from nightly low to daily high, has been between thirty and forty degrees.
Yesterday the high was 75 and the low 35.
This basically means you are always dressed wrong. You can dress so you are comfortable in the morning and you are baking mid-day or you are freezing in the morning and comfortable during the day. Regardless, you are generally chilled in the shade and sweating in the sun.
In preparation for this weather, while shopping for Christmas gifts (one for them-one for me), I went looking for t-shirts and a jacket. Neither of these were available. Jackets are not well stocked in an area that is 75 degrees during the day, five days before Christmas. This makes sense. I honestly can't remember ever having a jacket. But it can be in the thirties at night, and a jacket might be nice, and all my friends have them. T-shirts are not well stocked either as major clothing stores forget there are areas of the country that don't get snow. What is stocked? Thick knit long-sleeved tops and sweaters, both too hot for the day.
I did actually find t-shirts, but they only came in small and extra-small. (What the hell!) The store told me to go online. According to online, they are only made in small and extra-small. (Conspiracy of the little boob people…)
After a very unsuccessful (5-0) one for them-one for me Christmas shopping spree I am sitting in my car when a quick set whap whap whap hits my car. Thinking of the newly purchased gifts for them and random recent forwards (always a good source of information), I worried about a clever ploy to steal the gifts.
Then I thought, what the hell, it was only for other people anyway.
But, there was a mid-rift peering through my passenger window (low car). I quickly recognized the super-white mid-rift (on display today as it was 75 degrees, despite being December 20). Apparently bending down and showing her face never occurred to my sister. She remarkably, randomly, parked three spots over from me atop the roof of a parking structure.
Anyway, I have the rest of the week to remedy my one for them-one for me disparity, hopefully including a jacket.
Funniest Item Seen: Doormat that reads: "Nice Underwear"
Yesterday the high was 75 and the low 35.
This basically means you are always dressed wrong. You can dress so you are comfortable in the morning and you are baking mid-day or you are freezing in the morning and comfortable during the day. Regardless, you are generally chilled in the shade and sweating in the sun.
In preparation for this weather, while shopping for Christmas gifts (one for them-one for me), I went looking for t-shirts and a jacket. Neither of these were available. Jackets are not well stocked in an area that is 75 degrees during the day, five days before Christmas. This makes sense. I honestly can't remember ever having a jacket. But it can be in the thirties at night, and a jacket might be nice, and all my friends have them. T-shirts are not well stocked either as major clothing stores forget there are areas of the country that don't get snow. What is stocked? Thick knit long-sleeved tops and sweaters, both too hot for the day.
I did actually find t-shirts, but they only came in small and extra-small. (What the hell!) The store told me to go online. According to online, they are only made in small and extra-small. (Conspiracy of the little boob people…)
After a very unsuccessful (5-0) one for them-one for me Christmas shopping spree I am sitting in my car when a quick set whap whap whap hits my car. Thinking of the newly purchased gifts for them and random recent forwards (always a good source of information), I worried about a clever ploy to steal the gifts.
Then I thought, what the hell, it was only for other people anyway.
But, there was a mid-rift peering through my passenger window (low car). I quickly recognized the super-white mid-rift (on display today as it was 75 degrees, despite being December 20). Apparently bending down and showing her face never occurred to my sister. She remarkably, randomly, parked three spots over from me atop the roof of a parking structure.
Anyway, I have the rest of the week to remedy my one for them-one for me disparity, hopefully including a jacket.
Funniest Item Seen: Doormat that reads: "Nice Underwear"
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Have you seen my bomb?
It had some wires and a clock?
From cnn.com:
Airport Screeners Lose Fake Bomb During Training
NEWARK, New Jersey (AP) -- Baggage screeners at Newark Liberty International Airport spotted -- and then lost -- a fake bomb planted in luggage by a supervisor during a training exercise.
Despite an hours-long search Tuesday night, the bag, containing a fake bomb complete with wires, a detonator and a clock, made it onto an Amsterdam-bound flight. It was recovered by airport security officials in Amsterdam when the flight landed several hours later.
http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/12/15/fake.bomb.lost.ap/index
.html
Do you think they sent it back?
(Would you want to be on that flight?)
From cnn.com:
Airport Screeners Lose Fake Bomb During Training
NEWARK, New Jersey (AP) -- Baggage screeners at Newark Liberty International Airport spotted -- and then lost -- a fake bomb planted in luggage by a supervisor during a training exercise.
Despite an hours-long search Tuesday night, the bag, containing a fake bomb complete with wires, a detonator and a clock, made it onto an Amsterdam-bound flight. It was recovered by airport security officials in Amsterdam when the flight landed several hours later.
http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/12/15/fake.bomb.lost.ap/index
.html
Do you think they sent it back?
(Would you want to be on that flight?)
Saturday, December 11, 2004
On Organization
I have been trying to get back into the habit of putting things away.
Except it is really damned annoying.
Now, when I have put something away… what it really means is I will never be able to find it, ever again.
Needless to say, this exercise, in seeing how many drawers/doors/shelves/cupboards I can search before finding what I am looking for, is being abandoned.
I am going back to leaving it in the dead center of the floor.
That way I can find it, every time I trip over it.
I love horizontal organization.
Except it is really damned annoying.
Now, when I have put something away… what it really means is I will never be able to find it, ever again.
Needless to say, this exercise, in seeing how many drawers/doors/shelves/cupboards I can search before finding what I am looking for, is being abandoned.
I am going back to leaving it in the dead center of the floor.
That way I can find it, every time I trip over it.
I love horizontal organization.
Friday, December 10, 2004
More Bumper Reading, Participation Required
License plate holder: Master Of The Nuts, King Of The Squirrels
License Plate: YEP NUTS
Please comment; include your interpretation of "Master Of The Nuts" and theories on why the driver has felt so inclined to adorn the car this way.
(Comments should be at least 100 words long, and include at least two words seen on the SATs, but never in real life, used correctly. Comments will be graded according to what I think is most important which, obviously, I will not disclose to you, unless I like you. If I like you, I still won't disclose what is important, but you will get a good grade regardless of how daft I think your work is. If I don't know you, I will be so dumbfounded you are reading, that you will get an A just for starting a comment.)
Amazing how the assignment is always more complicated that the subject matter.
License Plate: YEP NUTS
Please comment; include your interpretation of "Master Of The Nuts" and theories on why the driver has felt so inclined to adorn the car this way.
(Comments should be at least 100 words long, and include at least two words seen on the SATs, but never in real life, used correctly. Comments will be graded according to what I think is most important which, obviously, I will not disclose to you, unless I like you. If I like you, I still won't disclose what is important, but you will get a good grade regardless of how daft I think your work is. If I don't know you, I will be so dumbfounded you are reading, that you will get an A just for starting a comment.)
Amazing how the assignment is always more complicated that the subject matter.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
You’re not supposed to…
You’re not supposed to find out over I.M. that someone you know had died.
People you know, who are good, pure, and honest are not supposed to die, accidently, on a Tuesday afternoon.
People you know, who are good, pure, and honest are not supposed to die, accidently, on a Tuesday afternoon.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Where do you get your reading material from?
I love reading the back of people’s cars.
Fortunately, people place reading material there…. Otherwise it would be a lot less entertaining.
There are also the symbols, like the Jesus fish and the Darwin fish.
Today, I saw my first Gefilte fish.
Fortunately, people place reading material there…. Otherwise it would be a lot less entertaining.
There are also the symbols, like the Jesus fish and the Darwin fish.
Today, I saw my first Gefilte fish.
Going Vertical In New York City
While in NYC, I stayed at a friend’s. Her place is on the 27th floor. Being on the 27th floor was an experience. I live in a place that actually has an ordinance limiting the height of buildings to three stories, so my movements are predominantly lateral and not vertically.
I cannot remember the last time I took an elevator above the sixth floor. I imagine it has been many years. In fact I think it was in Little Rock in 2001. (Why was I in Little Rock you ask? Well, for money, obviously. What other reason is there to be in Little Rock?)
I am not afraid of heights per say. This is not to mean I go hanging over roof sides. I just prefer to give them a little space, of approximately my length, lest I stumble and fall over.
Actually, what I hate the most is elevators. This comes from an in depth exposure to elevator horror stories my freshman year of college. I am sure you have all heard the story from my college where a ton of people squeeze into an elevator for a picture, in standard freshman fashion. The elevator slowly starts sinking from its stop on the eighth floor. A guy at the front gets half way out of the elevator, when the elevator drops two stories, cutting him in half and leaving the rest of the occupants bumped, bruises, and stuck with half the body of their friend.
It stands to reason this is traditional freshman lore. That being said, my sophomore year two elevator repair men, on an elevator car, plunged from the top of an elevator shaft crashing to the bottom, over six stories. That is not lore; it was carried in the papers.
So, I don’t like elevators.
But this elevator didn’t have any of those scary characteristics found in elevators: acceleration/deceleration that requires airbags, excessive delay in door opening, bottom of the elevator cab being six or more inches below/above the destination floor, and there are more, but since I reference them so rarely, I can’t remember them. So this elevator passed my inspection.
Being on the 27th floor had some interesting qualities. First, you always have instant hot water. You never have to wait for the hot water to push out all the cold water in the pipes. This was a great novelty. (Obviously, I was not the only one on the 27th floor.) Second, they don’t build with wood to 27 stories. In CA, everything is wood. So I walk around my house, and nearly everything gives a little. Not on the 27th floor. It felt so solid.
I would say, I have lived the majority of my life capable of changing my clothes in front of my windows, risking flashing a hibiscus, oak trees, ivy, bamboo, etc. To be on the 27th floor, and have people, potentially hundreds of people, about 150 meters away capable of looking into the window, that is just weird. And even worse was my friend’s pair of binoculars sitting window side accentuating the fact that people were looking.
The view was amazing, just lines of skyscrapers stretching away, and little yellow taxis zigging and zagging in no apparent direction.
And more importantly, the nice quiet respite was so needed for the country mouse after a day at play in the city.
So, if you ever go vertical, I recommend the 27th floor.
I cannot remember the last time I took an elevator above the sixth floor. I imagine it has been many years. In fact I think it was in Little Rock in 2001. (Why was I in Little Rock you ask? Well, for money, obviously. What other reason is there to be in Little Rock?)
I am not afraid of heights per say. This is not to mean I go hanging over roof sides. I just prefer to give them a little space, of approximately my length, lest I stumble and fall over.
Actually, what I hate the most is elevators. This comes from an in depth exposure to elevator horror stories my freshman year of college. I am sure you have all heard the story from my college where a ton of people squeeze into an elevator for a picture, in standard freshman fashion. The elevator slowly starts sinking from its stop on the eighth floor. A guy at the front gets half way out of the elevator, when the elevator drops two stories, cutting him in half and leaving the rest of the occupants bumped, bruises, and stuck with half the body of their friend.
It stands to reason this is traditional freshman lore. That being said, my sophomore year two elevator repair men, on an elevator car, plunged from the top of an elevator shaft crashing to the bottom, over six stories. That is not lore; it was carried in the papers.
So, I don’t like elevators.
But this elevator didn’t have any of those scary characteristics found in elevators: acceleration/deceleration that requires airbags, excessive delay in door opening, bottom of the elevator cab being six or more inches below/above the destination floor, and there are more, but since I reference them so rarely, I can’t remember them. So this elevator passed my inspection.
Being on the 27th floor had some interesting qualities. First, you always have instant hot water. You never have to wait for the hot water to push out all the cold water in the pipes. This was a great novelty. (Obviously, I was not the only one on the 27th floor.) Second, they don’t build with wood to 27 stories. In CA, everything is wood. So I walk around my house, and nearly everything gives a little. Not on the 27th floor. It felt so solid.
I would say, I have lived the majority of my life capable of changing my clothes in front of my windows, risking flashing a hibiscus, oak trees, ivy, bamboo, etc. To be on the 27th floor, and have people, potentially hundreds of people, about 150 meters away capable of looking into the window, that is just weird. And even worse was my friend’s pair of binoculars sitting window side accentuating the fact that people were looking.
The view was amazing, just lines of skyscrapers stretching away, and little yellow taxis zigging and zagging in no apparent direction.
And more importantly, the nice quiet respite was so needed for the country mouse after a day at play in the city.
So, if you ever go vertical, I recommend the 27th floor.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
On Neighborhoods
I came home to my entirely dark neighborhood on Friday night, parked and went inside.
On Saturday I intended to repeat the practice, but apparently I missed the local memo. I, unlike the rest of the neighborhood, did not spend Saturday day quadrupling my electricity use by anointing my home with an excess of small glowing lights.
I also managed to miss the cherry-pickers on Saturday. (I was at the beach.) We have a few fifty-foot high palm trees in the neighborhood. (Imagine that in southern California!) All the palm trees were decorated, to the very top.
THIS gave me the warm and fuzzies.
The silly lights on houses are quaint.
But a long string of lights wrapped all the way up a palm tree, now that is the Christmas spirit.
Oh to be a so-cal girl...
On Saturday I intended to repeat the practice, but apparently I missed the local memo. I, unlike the rest of the neighborhood, did not spend Saturday day quadrupling my electricity use by anointing my home with an excess of small glowing lights.
I also managed to miss the cherry-pickers on Saturday. (I was at the beach.) We have a few fifty-foot high palm trees in the neighborhood. (Imagine that in southern California!) All the palm trees were decorated, to the very top.
THIS gave me the warm and fuzzies.
The silly lights on houses are quaint.
But a long string of lights wrapped all the way up a palm tree, now that is the Christmas spirit.
Oh to be a so-cal girl...
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Best Laid Plans...
May be run over by reindeer
Or parade floats
Ambitious: Parking downtown to go to the gym at 4 pm on a Friday
Ridiculous: Doing this during the Christmas shopping season
Ignorant: Doing this two hours before the Christmas Parade starts
Stupid: Thinking I would get out alive.
Ridiculous: Doing this during the Christmas shopping season
Ignorant: Doing this two hours before the Christmas Parade starts
Stupid: Thinking I would get out alive.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Misuse of Appliances
There is something terribly wrong when the purpose of your fridge is to make sure your food stays warm enough not to freeze.
This is especially wrong in Southern California.
This is especially wrong in Southern California.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
What did you do today?
At 10:30 pm PST yesterday, I put down A Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and tried, again, to fall asleep. (I have read this book many times. I always forget how funny it is.)
At 1:30 am PST, I got up. This is a time my mom refers to as “O’Dawn Hundred.” This refers to any time more than an hour before dawn when my mom has to wake up and is not happy about it.
At 1:50 am PST, I left my mother’s house in Spofford, New Hampshire (don’t bother looking for it on a map, I was there and I couldn’t find it) in her LOL-mobile. (see entry http://stupidcool.blogspot.com/2004/09/not-urmoms-vanity-pl8.html)
At 3:15 am PST (38 degrees F), 6:15 am EST, I arrived at Hartford arrive at the airport. 3:25, I am through the check-in line.
Then I walk… out of Connecticut, out of the US, and into a different hemisphere, where the end of the security checkpoint line was.
At 4:15 am, I leave the checkpoint, with some clothes still on my back.
I was boarding the plane at 4:20 am, notably without my intended breakfast purchase.
The plane sat on the ground waiting for the rest of the passengers sitting in Siberia, AKA, don’t go that way for security, go left instead of right, and then straight about half a mile. (I think all of Connecticut was leaving.)
We arrive late to Chicago, 7:30 am PST. (As I wait to deplane, the women behind me starts talking about returning to 'Normal' meaning a town in Illinois. But, it made me think of the probability drive in A Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. We discussed the book while waiting to deplane.) I now, strangely enough, do not have time to pick up breakfast being that we are a half hour late. I rush to my gate, through the stoner O’Hare Tunnel. The PA is singing the “Final Boarding Call” song.
I get on the plane, continuing my conversation about A Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy with someone carrying the book, who I lose about row 25. I walk another 28 rows. I get to my row, 53, and there is someone in my seat. (The only time this has ever happened to me before was when I was on the wrong plane. I tried to explain then, that I was on the right plane and everyone else was confused, but they didn’t believe me.) Seats were juggled and I wind up on the same plane but without my window seat, crushed between two people instead. The person in front of me also reclined all the way, better to test me for claustrophobia.
Having rushed on board without breakfast, sitting on the runway for an hour, when I could have been in the terminal shopping for a nice warm breakfast burrito (or the Illinois equivalent) made me irritable.
Luckily, they said they would be selling food aboard, assuming take off happens.
Take off happened.
I am a funky sleeper in planes. I cannot sleep upright. I sleep with my arms crossed on the tray table and my head down. This comes from years of dedicated practice in school. When the person in front of you all the way reclined, this position is very uncomfortable. I always have this image of the person in front of me leaning back a little more, and breaking my neck between their seat and my back, against my seat. Charming thought.
So, we depart. Food is served perhaps an hour into the flight.
Do you think they had food for the 53rd row?
No.
There were out.
So, I arrive in San Francisco, late, imagine that, hungry, and with just enough time to find food.
Skip forward, food found, plane found, sky found, runway found, Santa Barbara found.
I get to my house at 3 pm PST. (Now nearly fourteen hours from when I woke up.)
I get home, to my extra thirsty plants. (Housemates did not water plants. I told John who was leaving town after me but after Jayne got back who was supposed to water before I returned.) I was actually hoping for rain. Checked for it everyday. Rain is a much easier form of watering the plants.
Where was I?
I get my book bag and go to class.
Class ends at 8 pm PST, nearly nineteen hours after the beginning of this rant. It is 40 degrees out. (It is November. I was in New Hampshire, 38 degrees, now I am in California, 40 degrees. It should not be the same temperature.) I am shivering on a street corner buying a 2 GHZ 1G computer, from a classmate, like a desperate drug attic. (It is a solid computer, at a fall off the back of a truck price.)
Now as haggard as the day should of made me, it merely made me realize how much I missed traveling, which I used to do for business. I strangely, though hungrily, enjoyed the day and that is cool.
Anyway… It is 21 hours later… and I am writing you. I am not sure why.
Perhaps just for a promise of things to come, stories of New York City….
I promise they will be funny or at least interesting and definitely shorter.
At 1:30 am PST, I got up. This is a time my mom refers to as “O’Dawn Hundred.” This refers to any time more than an hour before dawn when my mom has to wake up and is not happy about it.
At 1:50 am PST, I left my mother’s house in Spofford, New Hampshire (don’t bother looking for it on a map, I was there and I couldn’t find it) in her LOL-mobile. (see entry http://stupidcool.blogspot.com/2004/09/not-urmoms-vanity-pl8.html)
At 3:15 am PST (38 degrees F), 6:15 am EST, I arrived at Hartford arrive at the airport. 3:25, I am through the check-in line.
Then I walk… out of Connecticut, out of the US, and into a different hemisphere, where the end of the security checkpoint line was.
At 4:15 am, I leave the checkpoint, with some clothes still on my back.
I was boarding the plane at 4:20 am, notably without my intended breakfast purchase.
The plane sat on the ground waiting for the rest of the passengers sitting in Siberia, AKA, don’t go that way for security, go left instead of right, and then straight about half a mile. (I think all of Connecticut was leaving.)
We arrive late to Chicago, 7:30 am PST. (As I wait to deplane, the women behind me starts talking about returning to 'Normal' meaning a town in Illinois. But, it made me think of the probability drive in A Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. We discussed the book while waiting to deplane.) I now, strangely enough, do not have time to pick up breakfast being that we are a half hour late. I rush to my gate, through the stoner O’Hare Tunnel. The PA is singing the “Final Boarding Call” song.
I get on the plane, continuing my conversation about A Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy with someone carrying the book, who I lose about row 25. I walk another 28 rows. I get to my row, 53, and there is someone in my seat. (The only time this has ever happened to me before was when I was on the wrong plane. I tried to explain then, that I was on the right plane and everyone else was confused, but they didn’t believe me.) Seats were juggled and I wind up on the same plane but without my window seat, crushed between two people instead. The person in front of me also reclined all the way, better to test me for claustrophobia.
Having rushed on board without breakfast, sitting on the runway for an hour, when I could have been in the terminal shopping for a nice warm breakfast burrito (or the Illinois equivalent) made me irritable.
Luckily, they said they would be selling food aboard, assuming take off happens.
Take off happened.
I am a funky sleeper in planes. I cannot sleep upright. I sleep with my arms crossed on the tray table and my head down. This comes from years of dedicated practice in school. When the person in front of you all the way reclined, this position is very uncomfortable. I always have this image of the person in front of me leaning back a little more, and breaking my neck between their seat and my back, against my seat. Charming thought.
So, we depart. Food is served perhaps an hour into the flight.
Do you think they had food for the 53rd row?
No.
There were out.
So, I arrive in San Francisco, late, imagine that, hungry, and with just enough time to find food.
Skip forward, food found, plane found, sky found, runway found, Santa Barbara found.
I get to my house at 3 pm PST. (Now nearly fourteen hours from when I woke up.)
I get home, to my extra thirsty plants. (Housemates did not water plants. I told John who was leaving town after me but after Jayne got back who was supposed to water before I returned.) I was actually hoping for rain. Checked for it everyday. Rain is a much easier form of watering the plants.
Where was I?
I get my book bag and go to class.
Class ends at 8 pm PST, nearly nineteen hours after the beginning of this rant. It is 40 degrees out. (It is November. I was in New Hampshire, 38 degrees, now I am in California, 40 degrees. It should not be the same temperature.) I am shivering on a street corner buying a 2 GHZ 1G computer, from a classmate, like a desperate drug attic. (It is a solid computer, at a fall off the back of a truck price.)
Now as haggard as the day should of made me, it merely made me realize how much I missed traveling, which I used to do for business. I strangely, though hungrily, enjoyed the day and that is cool.
Anyway… It is 21 hours later… and I am writing you. I am not sure why.
Perhaps just for a promise of things to come, stories of New York City….
I promise they will be funny or at least interesting and definitely shorter.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Cool: Erroneous Laws of Nature
I, as a Californian currently in New Hampshire, have found much to my surprise, that although it is only 45 degrees here in the day... I have not solidified and shattered.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
LAX to O’Hare: A Well Enforced Party
When seated in the middle seat in the last row of a sardine can, um airplane, the forecast calls for an unpleasant, or at least physically tight flight.
Then again you could be traveling with a group of forty Italians.
Prior to departure, everyone switched seats at least once.
Once in the air, we posed with flight attendants.
We took pictures, in perhaps 300 of the different variations possible with forty people.
We blew up toys.
As many of us as physically possible, at one time, stood in the aisle and talked to each other and the few people not in aisle.
We all tried to stand on the left side of the plane at once.
We stood in the aisle and told jokes to the masses.
We shot video and interviewed lots passengers.
We exchanged LA tourist paraphernalia and magazines.
We sang songs during descent and burst into an Italian sports-like cheered at landing.
Who needs a movie when there are forty Italians on a plane.
And as that strange scene played, I talked to the armed FBI Agent next to me.
As flights go, it was the most random collection of stimuli.
Then again you could be traveling with a group of forty Italians.
Prior to departure, everyone switched seats at least once.
Once in the air, we posed with flight attendants.
We took pictures, in perhaps 300 of the different variations possible with forty people.
We blew up toys.
As many of us as physically possible, at one time, stood in the aisle and talked to each other and the few people not in aisle.
We all tried to stand on the left side of the plane at once.
We stood in the aisle and told jokes to the masses.
We shot video and interviewed lots passengers.
We exchanged LA tourist paraphernalia and magazines.
We sang songs during descent and burst into an Italian sports-like cheered at landing.
Who needs a movie when there are forty Italians on a plane.
And as that strange scene played, I talked to the armed FBI Agent next to me.
As flights go, it was the most random collection of stimuli.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
A Full Service Bank
So, I am sitting in my car at Washington Mutual, at 7pm. I am looking for my account number so I can endorse a check and deposit it.
While I am searching through my car (the logical place for storing all financial information), an attractive eighteen year-old girl, in her pajamas, uses the ATM. (Not a nightie, but a realistic version of pajamas, pajama pants, tank top, sweatshirt that zips up in front and flip-flops.)
She walks back to her car.
Emerging from another car, is another, perhaps twenty, slender woman, her hair also twirled up in a disheveled manor, also wearing pajamas, pink spaghetti-string tank top, pajama bottoms, Tevas.
While she is at the ATM, another shows up and uses the second ATM. Nice tan, she had a gap between her tank top and yoga pants showing a flat stomach and a back tattoo, no shoes.
And another.
And another.
I am sitting at the Washington Mutual feeling very old (at 28) and very over dressed (in shorts and a t-shirt) for a 20 year-old’s pajama party that looked like a who’s who of hot sorority girls. Not a single woman seemed to know another.
I would have loved to see a guy watching this parade.
It was surreal.
Now to break the charm, I am guessing a yoga class just got out nearby.
While I am searching through my car (the logical place for storing all financial information), an attractive eighteen year-old girl, in her pajamas, uses the ATM. (Not a nightie, but a realistic version of pajamas, pajama pants, tank top, sweatshirt that zips up in front and flip-flops.)
She walks back to her car.
Emerging from another car, is another, perhaps twenty, slender woman, her hair also twirled up in a disheveled manor, also wearing pajamas, pink spaghetti-string tank top, pajama bottoms, Tevas.
While she is at the ATM, another shows up and uses the second ATM. Nice tan, she had a gap between her tank top and yoga pants showing a flat stomach and a back tattoo, no shoes.
And another.
And another.
I am sitting at the Washington Mutual feeling very old (at 28) and very over dressed (in shorts and a t-shirt) for a 20 year-old’s pajama party that looked like a who’s who of hot sorority girls. Not a single woman seemed to know another.
I would have loved to see a guy watching this parade.
It was surreal.
Now to break the charm, I am guessing a yoga class just got out nearby.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Cool Things Like Wiskers On Kittens
Cool: Running into my sister at a club.
Cool: Watching my friend Lopaka dance. He is really quite good. More importantly he has such a good time you can’t help but smile.
Cool: Super low tides where you can find critters and sea things hiding in the tide pools.
Cool: The butterflies flocking to their winter home in the grove down the street.
Cool: This tree amongst the California green.
The end.
Cool: Watching my friend Lopaka dance. He is really quite good. More importantly he has such a good time you can’t help but smile.
Cool: Super low tides where you can find critters and sea things hiding in the tide pools.
Cool: The butterflies flocking to their winter home in the grove down the street.
Cool: This tree amongst the California green.
The end.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Did you look in the fridge for your cell?
One of the problems with cordless items, is you can never find them.
One of the problems with living alone, is you have no one to blame when you can’t find something.
One of the problems with not having (what is now referred to as) a ‘land` line, is it makes it very hard to call yourself to find your cell.
And lastly, one of the problem with fridges being well insulated...
(Sean says: At least it will be nice and cold.)
(Also from Sean, this link regarding both original costumes and politics: http://photo.demonhood.com/halloween04/62_G)
One of the problems with living alone, is you have no one to blame when you can’t find something.
One of the problems with not having (what is now referred to as) a ‘land` line, is it makes it very hard to call yourself to find your cell.
And lastly, one of the problem with fridges being well insulated...
(Sean says: At least it will be nice and cold.)
(Also from Sean, this link regarding both original costumes and politics: http://photo.demonhood.com/halloween04/62_G)
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Giving In: Politics
I have been trying to keep politics out of this forum because it is divisive and not really appropriate.
I am giving up.
Bush won the necessary electoral votes. He was elected by the republic. Bush won the popular vote. If the US was a democracy, he still would have won. The people elected him. “The people are morons…” says my Mom.
Anyone who has ever worked in a technical support job would overwhelmingly concur with this statement, politics aside.
So I saw something fascinating today, which is the real reason I write, a bumper sticker that said: “Secede Now.”
I live in California. The memo I got said we were waiting for “The Big One” before we secede. (The Big One is a statistically likely huge earthquake that in some dramatizations results in the physical separation of California from North America, at which point my memo says we will politically secede.) I guess we are moving up the timeline.
I have heard it said that the country is more divided now than during the civil war. (More divided is one of those phrases that has absolutely no meaning. I am going to assume more divided means more equally divided, in contrast to more factions or a more heavily weighted faction amongst the factions, or perhaps more practice in dividing, maybe by repeating forth grade a few times.)
Since America is divided, that makes this the best time to conquer it. I will get right on that.
My favorite comment: It is a good thing Bush won, after all you don’t want to piss off gun-wielding constituency.
Imagine the consequences if gun ownership were a factor. Everyone would have guns. Then it would take only one politically motivated gun exchange in say a Dallas bar to make civil war would be a real possibility.
The irony of it is, it is politics and government. The majority of us think it is fairly useless and ineffective anyway.
I hope that Kerry supports are much more satisfied with Bush’s second four years than with his first.
Stupid: People waiting nine hours to vote.
Stupid: A divided country three years after an event that should have unwaveringly unified us.
Cool: Entertaining bumper stickers and comic comments. (It is not nearly as significant as what is stupid, but you take the cool where you can get it sometimes. And hope for more.)
Cool: Political Halloween Costumes http://photo.demonhood.com/halloween04/62_G
I am giving up.
Bush won the necessary electoral votes. He was elected by the republic. Bush won the popular vote. If the US was a democracy, he still would have won. The people elected him. “The people are morons…” says my Mom.
Anyone who has ever worked in a technical support job would overwhelmingly concur with this statement, politics aside.
So I saw something fascinating today, which is the real reason I write, a bumper sticker that said: “Secede Now.”
I live in California. The memo I got said we were waiting for “The Big One” before we secede. (The Big One is a statistically likely huge earthquake that in some dramatizations results in the physical separation of California from North America, at which point my memo says we will politically secede.) I guess we are moving up the timeline.
I have heard it said that the country is more divided now than during the civil war. (More divided is one of those phrases that has absolutely no meaning. I am going to assume more divided means more equally divided, in contrast to more factions or a more heavily weighted faction amongst the factions, or perhaps more practice in dividing, maybe by repeating forth grade a few times.)
Since America is divided, that makes this the best time to conquer it. I will get right on that.
My favorite comment: It is a good thing Bush won, after all you don’t want to piss off gun-wielding constituency.
Imagine the consequences if gun ownership were a factor. Everyone would have guns. Then it would take only one politically motivated gun exchange in say a Dallas bar to make civil war would be a real possibility.
The irony of it is, it is politics and government. The majority of us think it is fairly useless and ineffective anyway.
I hope that Kerry supports are much more satisfied with Bush’s second four years than with his first.
Stupid: People waiting nine hours to vote.
Stupid: A divided country three years after an event that should have unwaveringly unified us.
Cool: Entertaining bumper stickers and comic comments. (It is not nearly as significant as what is stupid, but you take the cool where you can get it sometimes. And hope for more.)
Cool: Political Halloween Costumes http://photo.demonhood.com/halloween04/62_G
Monday, November 01, 2004
Original Costumes
Most original costumes I saw this weekend:
* Boxed Wine
* Two people dressed as grim rippers each carrying matching president or presidential candidate signs on a pole. Beneath the signs were little signs saying, “Support Evil.” http://photo.demonhood.com/halloween04/62_G
(Points were given out for originality and are not necessarily reflective of my political opinion; the relevant opinion is that I found it funny.)
* Boxed Wine
* Two people dressed as grim rippers each carrying matching president or presidential candidate signs on a pole. Beneath the signs were little signs saying, “Support Evil.” http://photo.demonhood.com/halloween04/62_G
(Points were given out for originality and are not necessarily reflective of my political opinion; the relevant opinion is that I found it funny.)
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Halloween Costumes
Would it be in poor taste or passe to be Viagra for Halloween?
I need feedback please.
I need feedback please.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Proof God Is A Man
Day Three of Storm Watch 2004
*Third day of rain in October… my arc building is definitely behind.
Being that it is dry here something like 330 days a year, California often does not bother with things like storm drains or roads at an angle so rain runs off. Arguably the roads are intentionally lower so that rain will follow the roads and be just as miserable in traffic as we are.
We have had nearly three-fourths an inch of rain since Saturday. We are now in flash flood warning stages, honest. (See, our ground is as hard and impenetrable as concrete after six dry months curing in the California sun. So water is not absorbed into the ground where it falls. It just keeps running until it finds the ocean or nice rug, which ever comes first.)
Today my flash flood encounter was in a parking lot. The water was six inches high. There was no way around it. The choice was wait perhaps an hour in the parking lot or go through the water. I am impatient; waiting was only a nominal option. I began calculations. My car was going to drift in the water; there was no doubt about that. The question was how far my car would drift in this fast moving water before I made it through the other side. (If I drifted too far, a new Mercedes would stop me.) Plus, flooding my engine was a consideration in my car. End of story, everyone one lived, including the Mercedes. Point? Beats the shit out of me, but it has nothing to do with god being a guy, which is my point, hopefully soon.
At a different time today, I was on my way to an exam. No one called me all day. Therefore, I got two phone calls on the way out, and was now running comfortably on time, instead of early. (I would find out later, that my drive would be three times as long in slippery wet stuff, thereby making me just plain late.)
Now off the phone, I went fishing through a storage closet for my umbrella. I have not used an umbrella for nine months. My skills are admittedly rusty. But I thought it would be like a bike, and I would just open it up and it would work.
No. I had a fight with the umbrella. It looked like the umbrella was going to win, but in a stunning lose-lose maneuver, I broke the umbrella. Apparently I should have been practicing over the dry summer. I just used too much force to open it. I feel so incompetent. But they should have seminars.
OK…. So, at this point, I grab my raincoat. I bought my raincoat for $12 dollars in ‘97 used maybe 20 times since. Raincoats are for desperation. Otherwise you just don’t leave the house when it is raining (see earlier entries regarding the fear of melting).
-----------------
Italics is off point... imagine that. Skip if desired.
Another side note, I went to a University of California. I kid you not, I have had finals cancelled due to rain. While I am on the subject of exams, not even my teacher made it to my exam today due to rain. Of course, we still had to take the exam.
The exam had questions analogous to this: (Just choose one) A domesticated animal with four legs and a tail is: a) dog, b) cat, c) horse, d) rabbit.
(My point is arguably all could be considered the correct answer.)
An exact question (for those of you familiar with even the vaguest notions of network security): The goal when developing a(n) __________ is to define the organization's expectations for computer and network use. A) acceptable use policy, B) acceptable use plan, C) security use policy, D) security plan.
(If you care for an answer and explanation, comment on this entry.)
--------------------
The title of this entry regards god’s masculinity. A page later and I have yet to get there.
So, I am leaving my house, braving the conditions, unnerving and potentially deadly (have you seen a Californian drive in the rain?). I close my door to make a run for my car, without the umbrella lying dead on my living room floor and with the $12 raincoat from 1997.
Imagine, in slow motion, me, in a v-neck, turning under the eaves, as a wind suddenly stirs and brings down a spout of water, falling, falling, slipping between my collar and my skin, straight into my cleavage. Pooled there nicely between my breasts and apparently water absorbing bra.
My entire bra soaks quickly, much to some “heavenly” twelve-year-old boy’s overflowing laughing delight. (Amazing shot too, missed my head and my entire shirt.)
I had no time to change.
Thus, God must be a man.
*Third day of rain in October… my arc building is definitely behind.
Being that it is dry here something like 330 days a year, California often does not bother with things like storm drains or roads at an angle so rain runs off. Arguably the roads are intentionally lower so that rain will follow the roads and be just as miserable in traffic as we are.
We have had nearly three-fourths an inch of rain since Saturday. We are now in flash flood warning stages, honest. (See, our ground is as hard and impenetrable as concrete after six dry months curing in the California sun. So water is not absorbed into the ground where it falls. It just keeps running until it finds the ocean or nice rug, which ever comes first.)
Today my flash flood encounter was in a parking lot. The water was six inches high. There was no way around it. The choice was wait perhaps an hour in the parking lot or go through the water. I am impatient; waiting was only a nominal option. I began calculations. My car was going to drift in the water; there was no doubt about that. The question was how far my car would drift in this fast moving water before I made it through the other side. (If I drifted too far, a new Mercedes would stop me.) Plus, flooding my engine was a consideration in my car. End of story, everyone one lived, including the Mercedes. Point? Beats the shit out of me, but it has nothing to do with god being a guy, which is my point, hopefully soon.
At a different time today, I was on my way to an exam. No one called me all day. Therefore, I got two phone calls on the way out, and was now running comfortably on time, instead of early. (I would find out later, that my drive would be three times as long in slippery wet stuff, thereby making me just plain late.)
Now off the phone, I went fishing through a storage closet for my umbrella. I have not used an umbrella for nine months. My skills are admittedly rusty. But I thought it would be like a bike, and I would just open it up and it would work.
No. I had a fight with the umbrella. It looked like the umbrella was going to win, but in a stunning lose-lose maneuver, I broke the umbrella. Apparently I should have been practicing over the dry summer. I just used too much force to open it. I feel so incompetent. But they should have seminars.
OK…. So, at this point, I grab my raincoat. I bought my raincoat for $12 dollars in ‘97 used maybe 20 times since. Raincoats are for desperation. Otherwise you just don’t leave the house when it is raining (see earlier entries regarding the fear of melting).
-----------------
Italics is off point... imagine that. Skip if desired.
Another side note, I went to a University of California. I kid you not, I have had finals cancelled due to rain. While I am on the subject of exams, not even my teacher made it to my exam today due to rain. Of course, we still had to take the exam.
The exam had questions analogous to this: (Just choose one) A domesticated animal with four legs and a tail is: a) dog, b) cat, c) horse, d) rabbit.
(My point is arguably all could be considered the correct answer.)
An exact question (for those of you familiar with even the vaguest notions of network security): The goal when developing a(n) __________ is to define the organization's expectations for computer and network use. A) acceptable use policy, B) acceptable use plan, C) security use policy, D) security plan.
(If you care for an answer and explanation, comment on this entry.)
--------------------
The title of this entry regards god’s masculinity. A page later and I have yet to get there.
So, I am leaving my house, braving the conditions, unnerving and potentially deadly (have you seen a Californian drive in the rain?). I close my door to make a run for my car, without the umbrella lying dead on my living room floor and with the $12 raincoat from 1997.
Imagine, in slow motion, me, in a v-neck, turning under the eaves, as a wind suddenly stirs and brings down a spout of water, falling, falling, slipping between my collar and my skin, straight into my cleavage. Pooled there nicely between my breasts and apparently water absorbing bra.
My entire bra soaks quickly, much to some “heavenly” twelve-year-old boy’s overflowing laughing delight. (Amazing shot too, missed my head and my entire shirt.)
I had no time to change.
Thus, God must be a man.
Monday, October 18, 2004
SB to LA and Rain
I am in Santa Barbara County approaching the Ventura County line when the pouring rain relents into a drizzle and then it stops all together. The ground is still wet, until I get to the county line. In Ventura County, it is entirely dry. I had no idea the weather patterns observed political boundaries.
The last time it rained in Southern California was April 17, for those of you who don’t understand why rain is a very foreign concept for Californians. This is the sort of fact Storm Watch 2004 covers when we get an eighth of an inch of rain.
I am absolutely ecstatic about not having to spend time watering the lawn and garden with water shipped in from Utah, because California is a desert and we buy our water from other states and ship it here and then we complain about the quality. Yet when we get it the natural way, through precipitation, we totally freak out.
Anyway, about my trip, when you are driving 20 mph or 0 mph on the 101 in LA, you get bored and read a lot of vanity plates and bumper stickers.
License Plate of this Trip: “BSKT CS”
My favorite bumper sticker is still, “Why am I in this hand basket and where are we going?”
Do any other women out there blast their car heater to use it as a hairdryer when running late in the morning? The guy in the other lane thought I was crazy. (This was a zero mph moment. A lot of hair dressing and makeup application happens at 0 mph on the freeway.)
Hopefully I will write again soon. You never know. The rain may continue; we could get a whole half-inch and I am a bit behind on building my arc.
The last time it rained in Southern California was April 17, for those of you who don’t understand why rain is a very foreign concept for Californians. This is the sort of fact Storm Watch 2004 covers when we get an eighth of an inch of rain.
I am absolutely ecstatic about not having to spend time watering the lawn and garden with water shipped in from Utah, because California is a desert and we buy our water from other states and ship it here and then we complain about the quality. Yet when we get it the natural way, through precipitation, we totally freak out.
Anyway, about my trip, when you are driving 20 mph or 0 mph on the 101 in LA, you get bored and read a lot of vanity plates and bumper stickers.
License Plate of this Trip: “BSKT CS”
My favorite bumper sticker is still, “Why am I in this hand basket and where are we going?”
Do any other women out there blast their car heater to use it as a hairdryer when running late in the morning? The guy in the other lane thought I was crazy. (This was a zero mph moment. A lot of hair dressing and makeup application happens at 0 mph on the freeway.)
Hopefully I will write again soon. You never know. The rain may continue; we could get a whole half-inch and I am a bit behind on building my arc.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Picked Up By The Gas Attendant
Benefits: Free gas! No small feat when the cheapest place in town is charging $2.45 for 87 octane.
Detriments: That slimy feeling that smells faintly like gas.
I guess I can bat my eyelashes a little for a $30 tank of gas.
Does that make me a gas whore?
Detriments: That slimy feeling that smells faintly like gas.
I guess I can bat my eyelashes a little for a $30 tank of gas.
Does that make me a gas whore?
Saturday, October 16, 2004
What IS that?
(entry dedicated to Krista)
I heard a noise.
Like a tick tick tick noise.
So I go wandering around my house trying to find it.
It is loudest by my aluminum wall mount heater.
"What is that?" I think. I couldn't figure out what that noise was. I look around the room trying to see if I have been misdirected toward the heater. Looking around the room, I notice the window, and something happening outside. Then it all comes together. My investigation is over, with a smile and some regional stupidity.
I am such a Californian.
It was rain!
RAIN!
You have to understand, in case you are not from California, it has not rained here since March.
Rain! What a kick?! I don't have to water my plants. I hope the roof doesn't leak. I hope the sunroof on my car is closed. I don't have to wash my car. Driving is going to be scary.
Rain! Like water falling from the sky, where there is no chubby eight year old with a hose involved.
Oh... wait... it has stopped, kid you not! Well that's it folks. That was our three and a half minutes of rain in October. No more rain until November.
Good thing too. I am going out tonight and I can't get wet. I might melt or something. I had an ex-boyfriend who swore to me I wouldn't melt.
(His exact words were, "You are not going to melt. You don't melt in the shower, do you?" What he didn't understand was I am a Californian. My shower water is filtered, softened and heated. Shower water is not like rain water. I mean it is not even made by Dannon or Arrowhead or Perrier. Californians can eat tofu, where it might kill people from other regions. Rain doesn't bother people from other regions, but it kills Californians every year.)
Anyway, I am taking every precaution until experts release empirical evidence.
-----
PS1 My heater has an aluminum exhaust tube to the roof, that is why it is so noisy when it rains, if you care.
PS2 I continued to screw around with my working dual boot. Now I can't get into either drive. That is going to be an annoying few hours to fix.
I heard a noise.
Like a tick tick tick noise.
So I go wandering around my house trying to find it.
It is loudest by my aluminum wall mount heater.
"What is that?" I think. I couldn't figure out what that noise was. I look around the room trying to see if I have been misdirected toward the heater. Looking around the room, I notice the window, and something happening outside. Then it all comes together. My investigation is over, with a smile and some regional stupidity.
I am such a Californian.
It was rain!
RAIN!
You have to understand, in case you are not from California, it has not rained here since March.
Rain! What a kick?! I don't have to water my plants. I hope the roof doesn't leak. I hope the sunroof on my car is closed. I don't have to wash my car. Driving is going to be scary.
Rain! Like water falling from the sky, where there is no chubby eight year old with a hose involved.
Oh... wait... it has stopped, kid you not! Well that's it folks. That was our three and a half minutes of rain in October. No more rain until November.
Good thing too. I am going out tonight and I can't get wet. I might melt or something. I had an ex-boyfriend who swore to me I wouldn't melt.
(His exact words were, "You are not going to melt. You don't melt in the shower, do you?" What he didn't understand was I am a Californian. My shower water is filtered, softened and heated. Shower water is not like rain water. I mean it is not even made by Dannon or Arrowhead or Perrier. Californians can eat tofu, where it might kill people from other regions. Rain doesn't bother people from other regions, but it kills Californians every year.)
Anyway, I am taking every precaution until experts release empirical evidence.
-----
PS1 My heater has an aluminum exhaust tube to the roof, that is why it is so noisy when it rains, if you care.
PS2 I continued to screw around with my working dual boot. Now I can't get into either drive. That is going to be an annoying few hours to fix.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Tested Positive
Sick, Disease = Geek
Cool: Knowing enough to setup a windows server and xp workstation, casually, while watching Friends.
Stupid: Being a drive short of the intended Red Hat installation. (Sean, Sean, where is my drive man? I need a drive fix. {Picture me slapping my elbow, drug addict style.})
Sick: Thinking this was a Friday night well spent.
(Also sick, the trail of computer parts and screwdrivers all over my bedroom floor.)
Stupid: Being a drive short of the intended Red Hat installation. (Sean, Sean, where is my drive man? I need a drive fix. {Picture me slapping my elbow, drug addict style.})
Sick: Thinking this was a Friday night well spent.
(Also sick, the trail of computer parts and screwdrivers all over my bedroom floor.)
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Pleasures of an Apple Tree
This summer, my apple tree blessed me with beauty and plenty in hundreds of mild green apples and laden branches adorned by healthy, bright green leaves. The canopy, a palette of greens, was all the more lively against the earthy red brick patio beneath.
At night, the moonlight sneaking past my blinds, I lie in bed. In the warmth and safety of my bed, my consciousness fading, I hear the occasional hard, heavy apple bounce onto the red bricks below. A quiet midnight thump joining me with nature, where everything makes sense, everything in the world is true and good, and a moment of Zen experienced unsought.
The tree ready and giving, I choose my first mild green, slightly yellow, blushing red apple. I washed the hard apple beneath cold water and inspected the apple. I was not sure whether the apple was ripe. I steeled myself, prepared for a bitter mealy, terrible apple.
I crunched into my apple and naturally chewed. The apple bubbled over with sweet, delightful flavor. The apple was wonderful.
My apple tree is a beautiful canopy of green that makes home home, a lovely reminder in the middle of the night that the world is good and true, and offers me wonderful delicious gifts.
I love my apple tree.
Now once I get it to convert, it will be a match made in heaven.
;)
In other words, my apple tree is cool.
At night, the moonlight sneaking past my blinds, I lie in bed. In the warmth and safety of my bed, my consciousness fading, I hear the occasional hard, heavy apple bounce onto the red bricks below. A quiet midnight thump joining me with nature, where everything makes sense, everything in the world is true and good, and a moment of Zen experienced unsought.
The tree ready and giving, I choose my first mild green, slightly yellow, blushing red apple. I washed the hard apple beneath cold water and inspected the apple. I was not sure whether the apple was ripe. I steeled myself, prepared for a bitter mealy, terrible apple.
I crunched into my apple and naturally chewed. The apple bubbled over with sweet, delightful flavor. The apple was wonderful.
My apple tree is a beautiful canopy of green that makes home home, a lovely reminder in the middle of the night that the world is good and true, and offers me wonderful delicious gifts.
I love my apple tree.
Now once I get it to convert, it will be a match made in heaven.
;)
In other words, my apple tree is cool.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
‘NOT’ ‘URMOMS’ ‘VANITY’ ‘PL8’
‘ORMAYBE’ ‘IT IS’
‘MYMOMS’ ‘NUVANTY’ ‘PL8S’: LOL
There R vanity PL8S 4 which only peeps under 30 should qualify. God forbid my mother’s next PL8S B “BLINGX2’.
‘MYMOMS’ ‘NUVANTY’ ‘PL8S’: LOL
There R vanity PL8S 4 which only peeps under 30 should qualify. God forbid my mother’s next PL8S B “BLINGX2’.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Fall Is Here
Well, Fall arrived yesterday.
Friday it was warm and still.
Saturday it was warm… in those seconds between cold gusts of wind.
The light seemed suddenly different, a little more diffuse. (Perhaps partially from all the crap the wind kicked up.)
The wind rustles the leaves, dry leaves. Dry leaves make a different sound than lush green leaves. One sounds like the swish of a skirt on a pretty girl, the other like newspaper being balled up to pack away the belongings of someone who died.
I have light coming in my south facing windows, which I never noticed before, and definitely was not there during the summer. I am sure you are utterly intrigued.
I close windows before I go to bed. (Why hasn’t any one invented windows that automatically close when they hit a set temperature?)
The sun is not up when I get up at 5:30. (I take this to be a personal affront. How dare the sun not get up before me!)
It makes me nostalgic. I expect the nostalgia to last four days, then I am expecting the Indian summer to arrive.
This all sounds hilarious if you know where I live. The forecast for the next ten days:
Monday: Sunny 76
Tuesday: Sunny 76
Wednesday: Sunny 77
Thursday: Sunny 77
Friday: Sunny 76
(According to weather.com, not my forecast skills, which are probably equally good. I mean, worst case scenario, I might be off by a degree.)
It doesn’t say there is a 35 mph wind advisory, and that the damn wind is cold! As soon as you get your sweatshirt off cause you are baking in the sun, the wind hits, and you are shivering cold. It would be nice if it were cold or hot, and did not literally change with the wind. (I am such a CA weather snob.)
Oh wait, I said ten day forecast. Well, in all likelihood, just ditto those days for the following week. If you have ever seen the movie L.A. Story, you know how well this prediction works for Steve Martin playing a weatherman.
But I digress.
Fall is here. Just thought I would let you know.
Friday it was warm and still.
Saturday it was warm… in those seconds between cold gusts of wind.
The light seemed suddenly different, a little more diffuse. (Perhaps partially from all the crap the wind kicked up.)
The wind rustles the leaves, dry leaves. Dry leaves make a different sound than lush green leaves. One sounds like the swish of a skirt on a pretty girl, the other like newspaper being balled up to pack away the belongings of someone who died.
I have light coming in my south facing windows, which I never noticed before, and definitely was not there during the summer. I am sure you are utterly intrigued.
I close windows before I go to bed. (Why hasn’t any one invented windows that automatically close when they hit a set temperature?)
The sun is not up when I get up at 5:30. (I take this to be a personal affront. How dare the sun not get up before me!)
It makes me nostalgic. I expect the nostalgia to last four days, then I am expecting the Indian summer to arrive.
This all sounds hilarious if you know where I live. The forecast for the next ten days:
Monday: Sunny 76
Tuesday: Sunny 76
Wednesday: Sunny 77
Thursday: Sunny 77
Friday: Sunny 76
(According to weather.com, not my forecast skills, which are probably equally good. I mean, worst case scenario, I might be off by a degree.)
It doesn’t say there is a 35 mph wind advisory, and that the damn wind is cold! As soon as you get your sweatshirt off cause you are baking in the sun, the wind hits, and you are shivering cold. It would be nice if it were cold or hot, and did not literally change with the wind. (I am such a CA weather snob.)
Oh wait, I said ten day forecast. Well, in all likelihood, just ditto those days for the following week. If you have ever seen the movie L.A. Story, you know how well this prediction works for Steve Martin playing a weatherman.
But I digress.
Fall is here. Just thought I would let you know.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Rules and Regulations
I am sorry; I have been remiss.
I have been busy helping a friend import rats into Manhattan. (Trust me when I tell you, this is no easy task from California.)
I tried to explain to her they already have rats, but apparently they did not have the right ones.
I wish I was creative enough to make this up, but I don’t have to… it is true.
I have been busy helping a friend import rats into Manhattan. (Trust me when I tell you, this is no easy task from California.)
I tried to explain to her they already have rats, but apparently they did not have the right ones.
I wish I was creative enough to make this up, but I don’t have to… it is true.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
I Forgot
My friend Dria is the type of person who if you didn’t love her, you would keep her around anyway for sheer entertainment value.
Today, she stopped at a gas station, began pumping gas and went into the station to get something to eat.
Returning to her car, she drove off with the nozzle still in her car, giving a good (and probably expensive) yank to the pump.
Now I know Dria, so things like this are not a big surprise. Nonetheless, she explained it to me, “I was so excited about eating my lollipop, I completely forgot.”
Love you Dria.
Today, she stopped at a gas station, began pumping gas and went into the station to get something to eat.
Returning to her car, she drove off with the nozzle still in her car, giving a good (and probably expensive) yank to the pump.
Now I know Dria, so things like this are not a big surprise. Nonetheless, she explained it to me, “I was so excited about eating my lollipop, I completely forgot.”
Love you Dria.
Friday, September 10, 2004
In The Category Of: You Can’t Make Stuff Like This Up
Dog Shoot Owner in Self Defense
A Florida man, shooting and killing his dogs, was wounded when one of the dogs took matters into his own paws and shot his owner.
Unfortunately, the end score was owner three, dogs only half a point.
The man will be charged with a felony and the dogs will be sent to target practice, for better aim next time.
References:
http://rdu.news14.com/content/headlines/?ArID=54869&SecID=2
http://www.suntimes.com/output/news/cst-nws-puppy10.html
Unfortunately, the end score was owner three, dogs only half a point.
The man will be charged with a felony and the dogs will be sent to target practice, for better aim next time.
References:
http://rdu.news14.com/content/headlines/?ArID=54869&SecID=2
http://www.suntimes.com/output/news/cst-nws-puppy10.html
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Cool: Bar Jenga
Jenga (A Hasbro game, see website Jenga)
Jenga
Drunk
With drunk friends
On an unsteady bar table
The tower was literally two feet high, if not higher before tumbling.
Even better was the interesting suggestions the Jenga blocks had. Handwritten on each piece was a suggestion, take off a piece of clothing, kiss a friend.
A good time!
Jenga
Drunk
With drunk friends
On an unsteady bar table
The tower was literally two feet high, if not higher before tumbling.
Even better was the interesting suggestions the Jenga blocks had. Handwritten on each piece was a suggestion, take off a piece of clothing, kiss a friend.
A good time!
Monday, September 06, 2004
Cool: The Ice Cream Man
I live in a neighborhood where the ice cream man comes by a couple times a day, on warm weekends.
I don't know why, but I absolutely love this. It has a 1950's perfect suburbia feel that just seems to smile and say, "Everything is wonderful. Would you like a nice, sweet, cold, ice cream?" (Picture this being said by a woman with a fifty's hair style, a narrow waisted dress that poofs out to the knees.)
The ice cream man is definitely cool.
I don't know why, but I absolutely love this. It has a 1950's perfect suburbia feel that just seems to smile and say, "Everything is wonderful. Would you like a nice, sweet, cold, ice cream?" (Picture this being said by a woman with a fifty's hair style, a narrow waisted dress that poofs out to the knees.)
The ice cream man is definitely cool.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Gym Exercise Only!
Can someone explain to me
The people who go to the gym
A half block away there are plenty of spaces
But they wait for a parking spot closer to the gym
So they can get on the treadmill
And run four miles.
The people who go to the gym
A half block away there are plenty of spaces
But they wait for a parking spot closer to the gym
So they can get on the treadmill
And run four miles.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Porñata?
The Erotic Piñata?
As much as I would like to believe I am creative enough to come up with stuff like this, alas, I am not.
A company in Encino, a city in California best known for bedrooms featured in a porn collection near you, is now offering Porñatas.
Porñatas, for those of you not familiar with the terms, are Porn Piñatas. I assume everyone will be comfortable with the term porn. A piñata is animal-shaped cardboard decorated with tissue paper, filled with candy and then held above kids wielding bats. The kids beat the shit out of the piñata until it breaks and drops all the candy.
Porñatas, made with the adult party in mind, make sinful that once wholesome sport of destroying a doll. The Porñatas can be naked men (Big Bad Budging Brian for example) or women (Devilish Debbie perhaps).
The dolls come empty. They can be filled with the obvious piñata pastime candy. Then there are the more lewd ideas. For a fee you can select an “add-on” (not to be confused with a strap-on). Add-ons include penis and boob toys and edibles. There are other ideas like condoms, props, lotions, etc.
It hardly seems right to beat dolls depicting limbless, defenseless people. (Yeah Yeah, I suppose I am oversensitive.) Nonetheless, it seems a bad omen if your date shows a little too much enthusiasm with the bat.
On that note, my friend Linda had a great idea for the next generation. She suggested that beating the doll with a bat didn’t seem the spirited way to get the candy out. She thought of a different method of “beating” it out.
Just a warning, I caution against confusing a friends bachelor piñata with your eight years old's. That might cause some friction in the parent circles, and not the good kind.
Reference:
http://www.eroticpinata.com
As much as I would like to believe I am creative enough to come up with stuff like this, alas, I am not.
A company in Encino, a city in California best known for bedrooms featured in a porn collection near you, is now offering Porñatas.
Porñatas, for those of you not familiar with the terms, are Porn Piñatas. I assume everyone will be comfortable with the term porn. A piñata is animal-shaped cardboard decorated with tissue paper, filled with candy and then held above kids wielding bats. The kids beat the shit out of the piñata until it breaks and drops all the candy.
Porñatas, made with the adult party in mind, make sinful that once wholesome sport of destroying a doll. The Porñatas can be naked men (Big Bad Budging Brian for example) or women (Devilish Debbie perhaps).
The dolls come empty. They can be filled with the obvious piñata pastime candy. Then there are the more lewd ideas. For a fee you can select an “add-on” (not to be confused with a strap-on). Add-ons include penis and boob toys and edibles. There are other ideas like condoms, props, lotions, etc.
It hardly seems right to beat dolls depicting limbless, defenseless people. (Yeah Yeah, I suppose I am oversensitive.) Nonetheless, it seems a bad omen if your date shows a little too much enthusiasm with the bat.
On that note, my friend Linda had a great idea for the next generation. She suggested that beating the doll with a bat didn’t seem the spirited way to get the candy out. She thought of a different method of “beating” it out.
Just a warning, I caution against confusing a friends bachelor piñata with your eight years old's. That might cause some friction in the parent circles, and not the good kind.
Reference:
http://www.eroticpinata.com
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