ramblings of a mind disturbed by joining the real world, dead languges, biology, knitting, art, an obsession with arctic anything, and now, a fish. and a boat.
I don't remember a whole lot of life in New Mexico. I remember a green room with lots of stairs and green carpet (that in true childhood fashion, we played king of the hill on and did our level best to kill each other with), I remember Danielle's house and their cat disappearing (hiya, coyotes!) and her brother not being allowed to play outside and something about a dog, I remember an upturned dish on the floor that I think had a massive cockroach trapped under it but it might have been a scorpion, I remember not being allowed in a shed (although that might have been Utah, now that I think about it), I remember colors and smells and dirt and feelings of age and stillness, and I remember getting into lots of trouble with Arielle (Ariel?) and Danielle, I remember wind and bright and balloons, and I remember a bush. I don't remember why I remember a bush, but it's there. being bushy.
Reading Tony Hillerman's novels made me feel like I'd grown up there, that his words plugged into my kidlet memories and extrapolated them further somehow.
so go read The Blessing Way and don't stop til you get to The Shape Shifter, because the world has lost another artist, another man with the deft touch that allowed us to smell and breathe and taste the world he created with words on paper, and the truest tribute for him is to fall back into his world.
Can't watch it now-right now-at this very moment? here are some of my favorite segments.
"Obama has said you can put lipstick on a pig but it's still a pig. And then Republicans are like *gasp* 'did you call Sarah Palin a pig?! That means you hate America!' And Democrats are saying 'No no no Republicans you, you don't love pigs, it's a pig's right to wear lipstick, it's- Free Shirley! it' Blah Blah BLAH BLAH BLEARGH *mimes vomiting."
"The candidates say 'well the family is off limits, you know, I mean.' it's like Sarah Palin says 'y'know my daughter's pregnancy- that's off limits, that's a family matter,' and Barack Obama sayin' 'yes, that's absolutely right.' but listen, here- here's what I say. if your families are off limits, why are they on the stage? why is it they're profiling in People magazine you and your damn family all over, the children marching around- shame on you, you manipulative hypocrite. I'm talking to both sides...I'm talking to all of you."
"Which candidate would you rather have dinner with? Here's an easy answer- none. They're politicians. I don't want dinner with you, I don't want your friendship, here's what I want to know. What are you gonna do for this country, pal, what are you gonna do?"
"Are we so lost we have to be sold our own democratic right?"
"If you don't vote, you're a moron...voting is not sexy, voting is not hip, it is not fashionable, it's not a movie, it's not a video game, all the kids ain't doin' it, frankly, voting is a pain in the ass; but here's a word, look it up- it is your duty to vote."
and the last 37 seconds should be seared into the brain of every citizen eligible to vote.
and trust me, don't read the 930 comments. if even the thought of leaving a comment along the lines of ... "I prefer my right not to vote" or "show that you dont acknowledge this presidential race. DONT VOTE!!!" or "america is about freedom and about being free why should i as a proud patriotic free american have to go vote for somebody else? i'd rather watch football" or "personally, I feel that I'm so ill-informed by the media, that my vote (if I were to vote) would be so ill-informed that I'd vote for bugs bunny or something." ...crossed your mind, then read this comic, and then go back to basic Civics, and stay there until you've learned your lesson. pack a bag, it might be awhile.
too many of them and not enough of these guys: "1) there are more than two people/parties running for presidency. It is not complicated to find someone close to your ideals. B) There are other important issues on the ballot." (even though there's a number-letter list confusion there.) or "There are plenty of third party candidates that you COULD vote for, and if none are to your liking, you're free to get involved in a grassroots party that suits you. Conspiracy theories, blaming everything on 'corporate elite' and mumbling about corruption and illusions is a COP OUT. Refusing to participate isn't going to change the status quo. You're just armchair-quarterbacking. You have to GET INVOLVED if the system is not to your liking."
And, because it's YouTube, of course there's... "a tranny of one king is better than a democracy of a million kings" (really?)
And maybe it's just I read too much scifi in my formative years (hi, Orson Scott Card!), but...does anyone else get intergalactic despot-powered-spacesuit-sorta vibes from words like Theocrat and Neocon? where's the Decepticons?
"it's held together by greed, bitterness, and 18 versions of CSI. and, apparently, an inability to pay the power bill." (Craig's talking about CBS, but...)
but trust me, it's a cunning facade meant to lure you to certain destruction. don't believe me? let me see if I can find the Cheerio picture from the Insta-booth thing at the museum. or the Spaghetti + Chopsticks Incident. or the ex-Pink Jumpsuit.
I ate a fig today! one of my figs! and it was only mostly ripe, but it looked so squishy and droopy I got scared for a moment that it was over-ripe and I would have missed out on The Figness so I poked at it and it fell off, which to my mind meant "ok, time to eat!"....shush.
Have even more tomatoes, albeit tiiiny wee little tomatolets, and even me, the resident hater of the red gooshy love-apples that aren't in the form of pizza sauce or salsa, likes them. Although whenever I eat one, my taste buds go "oo, tast...y...wait, that was a tomato. wasn't it?"
It's fun giving my taste buds existential dilemmas. (I really, really want to type existential dilemmae.)
I was talking to someone about how I lurve my phone, I just wish it were easier to browse the internet from it, especially since I don't ever use it until I'm wandering around increasingly seedier areas of El Cerrito/Richmond/Oakland/The City, with decreasing solar illumination, searching for a bead store/am-ba-lains service/LiveScan/fish store that eludes all skills I may possess with 411 or verizon navigator. They suggested I look at the iPod Touch, which apparently is like an iPhone without the phone bits. or like a very tiny computer that you can play music or video files on and use Teh Intarwebz, and has much of the functionality and look-I-can-see-the-screen of the iPhone. sounds intriguing, but essentially 300$ for 16 GB (or 240$ for 8 GB, which seems odd that twice the memory is only 60$) makes me cringe. I already have an mp3 player that I quite like, thank you, but...still...Teh Intarwebz is tantalizing. Although it was disappointing that I didn't have enough characters to engrave "passer, deliciae mea puella, quicum ludere, quem in sinu tenere*" on the back. (I could, however, engrave "amabo, mea dulcis Ipsitilla, mea deliciae, mei lepores**" ...ok, so i may have spent a bit of time on this. and yes, if I could have fit 'passer...tenere' the temptation would have been greater. ...shutup.)
as an aside, I'm pretty sure that, in the interest of honesty, 'talking' should be 'whining.'
also, LiveScan? CREEPY. Big Brother now has my digital 10-card, and now any employer using their service will know of any prior arrests AND any future arrests, from now until perpetuity or we all finally blow ourselves up in World War III or "oops, what was that button again?"
I feel like I should start hiding my laptop in my dresser and putting a grain of sand on the lid.
Yesterday was Fun With Not Having Any Fun At All, or how I learned to stop worrying and love inefficiency. the Alameda County Emergency Medical Services has a convenient list of LiveScan operators in the area. Great. I look up the one that seems best for me (right near Berkeley BART, which is on my way to the Alameda County Health Services building which is 'kitty corner from the San Leandro BART on the San Leandro side,' plus I can stop off for a coffee and a nummy sandwich from the little cafe and hit up the half price books for The Color Of Magic so I can finally start my participation in the Pratchganalong. anyway. back to the Day of Doom.)
For once, the 74 is on time, and I get on at precisely 1047.
This should have been my first clue that the day was Not Going To End Well.
I get to the Richmond BART and bart along my merry way to Berkeley, wander off to the LiveScan place, and am informed that their equipment was recalled and has not yet been returned to them. I recall seeing one on Telegraph close to where it becomes a one-way, so I pop into the Half Price Books, go "oh, right. this is the store with the 'need your Pratchett will pay top dollar' sign. drat." and head to coffee and sandwich, but the 1R is pulling up, so instead I forgo coffee and sandwich (this will prove to be A Bad Idea) in favor of getting on the bus. I get off at the Dwight & Telegraph stop, and scan storefronts for the LiveScan sign. no luck. must be further south, I think, so I start wandering.
When I get to the 9000s and Alta Bates, I decide to give up and call The Fount of Wisdom and Selfless Wielder of the Internet on Behalf of The Child, while walking into the Whole Foods Market for provisions and a potty break. (there are no public bathrooms in Berkeley. They're all 'broken'. Ok, there may exist public bathrooms in Berkeley, but trust me, they should probably be the subject of controlled demolition.) Mom directs me to 2512 Telegraph Avenue at the direction of the ACEMS website, and I walk back to where I started from, this time with my nummy orchard-fruit-and-black-tea smoothie and a bag of dark chocolate covered apricots in hand.
Scanning the storefronts, I see 2502 on the opposite side of Telegraph, and 2510 at the corner, so I back up one store and am greeted by...blank, barred-over windows and a sign saying "we've moved to 8355 Telegraph Avenue. Are. You. Serious. I was JUST THERE. no, really. JUST. THERE.
and so I revolt and walk to the secondhand bookstore on the opposite corner. They don't have any Pratchett either, but I pick up an ancient book of Cicero's legal defense speeches. ...shutup. so I'm a sucker for the smell of old books and dead languages. how can you not enjoy something where one line of latin results in eight of english? broken, painful english at that? not that it's english's fault that it's severely lacking in verb tenses and moods, but...I'm going to be quiet now.
it's the genes, people. the genes!
I walk to the bus. it's now nearly 1530 and I have to get to San Leandro by 1700. It discharges me at Russell, so I walk a block and enter the giant building with No Signage For Cal LiveScan (clue #22392362 for The Day of Doom). the LiveScan process itself is painless (but CREEPY), although I inform them that ACEMS has them still at 2512 Telegraph and they are surprised, since they moved september first. I am surprised when they tell me I can't pay with a check, despite the ACEMS website saying I could, but use my credit card. They give me a flier and a business card to give to the ACEMS when I get there.
By this time, it's 1545 and I'm close to Ashby BART so I walk the .5 mile or so and am greeted by A Giant Crater Teeming With Construction Equipment. Are You Serious, Oh My God, Really? part II. But it's still open, and I get on the Fremont bound train after 2 minutes.
I get to San Leandro BART at 1645. ok, 15 minutes to find the ACMS, no problem. kitty corner to BART on the san leandro side. makes sense now, because on the west side is freeway and the east side is city. kitty corner is a under-construction fountain and two hotel-looking buildings, and a sign for a bank. on the other corners are parking lot and Wendy's. I start walking north at the direction of the happy little voice of the Verizon Navigator, which tells me I've arrived at my destination on the right. I'm on a bridge, overlooking an overgrown ravine. (shades of Lake Country GPS Fail) I call the ACMS. 'oh, you see the wendy's? you see the big fountain? we're the second building that sort of looks like a hotel.'
oh, you mean the buildings with Absolutely No Signage Whatsover? those buildings? there's not even signage IN the damn building. luckily I look bedraggled enough and am close to the breaking point that some nice lady lets me in to the second floor offices (because it's now 3 past 1700, and they closed at 1700) and once she hears I'm from Richmond fetches someone to take my damn paperwork and my damn check and give me my damn California EMT certification, already.
Except that the website says that they accept personal checks, only that policy has changed, and the nice earnest young man tells me that he'll wait if I want to go get a cashier's check or a money order. ...at 1700. is a bank open? not in time for The Carless Wonder to get there. post offic-no. but despite all this, I apparently am allowed to, since I've Sold My Soul To Big Brother, mail in my paperwork. I do not cry. it's close, but I don't. I don't scream. it's close, but the people in the office have been so nice that I can restrain it. I go to the wendy's and get food because there has been No Food Since 1000. (I've forgotten about the apricots and the energy bar in the purse.)
I get home at almost 1940, because now that The Day of Doom is over, the 74 is back to its usual 'follow a schedule? what? what is this alien concept you speak of?'
so tomorrow (after a day of Hell No I Am Not Leaving The House) I shall bustle off to the postal services and mail off my stitchmarkers to my swap partner, get a money order, and mail my stupid paperwork to the stupid alameda county emergency medical services so they can give me my stupid certification so that I can get a stupid job and do even MORE paperwork so I can (probably) get a stupid commercial driver's license and a stupid state-physician physical.
stupid.
stupid stupid stupid.
Anyway. Because I've been whiny (and I didn't even get to what I originally sat down to talk about, which tells me a bit more than I thought) I give you...Hilarious Norwegian Sketch Comedy.
to set the tone: In Norwegian, the word for tree is "tre." its plural is "trær." the word for the cardinal number 3 is 'tre.'
The first line here is "hello and welcome to The News For Trees. The time is Tree (3)." and it degenerates from there.
then there's The News For Hair. (which is hår, which is pronounced very similarly to 'hore,' which means whore.)
or the Three Way Sketch.
There. some uplift for you.
well. uplift if you speak norwegian.
Ok, fine. uplifting for all y'all who don't: is this not the best picture ever? my cats do this all the time but I never have a camera to capture it. and by the time I come back, they've moved. I had written down somewhere where I found this picture, but I can't find it, and my attempt at retracing my steps has failed. if this is your picture, please let me know and I'll give you credit or take it down if that's what you'd like. but you should know that every time I see it, I smile and it makes my day a little better.
*o sparrow, the sweet little pet of my girl, with whom she plays, who she holds in her lap... **I entreat you, my sweet Ipistrilla, my little pet, my dear...
(those are very rough translations. it's been awhile. especially for the second one. (that's Catullus 2 and Catullus 32, if you're curious. and no, I only entertained the thought of something from cicero briefly before realizing that I'd have to engrave it on the laptop, and even then, it wouldn't fit.)
have you ever seen anything so pathetic?right before I maneuvered the laptop to take the picture he was passed out, his head flopped back onto the window screen, both legs straight out against the sill.
So I get up this morning, get dressed, and head to the bus stop for to set my feet upon the first step towards the roundabout of curiousities so gently called 'getting my NREMT certification certified by Contra Costa County.' (another CCC!) (and if you had Tindall and Shi's book for American History, you just snorted milk (or whatever) out of your nose.)
The 74 is, as usual, late. someone has finally toppled the F and the 88 from 'worst AC transit bus EVAR' throne. but it comes, and I bounce along jollily to the Richmond BART station. using 511.org, I know that I need to take the 72 northbound, so I get on the bus.
it goes west. to Point Richmond. then travels back to the BART station I just left from, THEN goes east/north. oh well. an extra 30 minutes of knitting time, right? OH WAIT I left a needle at home. how? don't know. I blame the cat.
So I get off at the appropriate stop, and glance around. hm. problem. looks pretty damn residential. I wander, cursing the lack of cell phone (more on that later), and find an internet cafe.
I caffeinate. mmm, coffee. I sit at one of the computers when it opens up and revisit 511.org. only I've left the address at home, so I look it up online again. it looks slightly different. no matter. plug it in, make it go. the website takes forever, but it finally loads, and I see the squiggly little red line that tells me where I should go...and it ends in MARTINEZ. yeah.
Make a fist with just your thumbnail tucked in it. looking at the back of your hand, your thumb is the peninsula, home of the city (san francisco). right across from the bend of your thumb is Richmond. (not the thumb-crotch, that's San Jose.) Martinez is roughly where your middle finger's knuckle is.
yeah.
NAVIGATION FAIL.
I stare at the screen, contemplating all manner of unpleasant things, then ask to borrow the cafe's phone (no payphone, I think they've gone extinct.) I must look deranged enough that they smile nicely and say no problem and would I like a free refill on your mocha?
I call the office in the hopes that there's some sort of satellite office that I can bury myself in paperwork in and avoid the whole bus-bart-amtrak-bus-bus thing. (which really is bus-bart-amtrak-bus-bus-sub-sub-kartma-trab-sub). what do I get? a happy perky recorded message saying the office hours and that today is closed in observation of columbus day.
yeah. I hang up, accept refill, and retrace my steps to get home around 2:30.
DAY FAIL.
(did you know that in venezuela this holiday is called the day of indigenous resistance? can we do away with columbus day and have Indigenous People who were here before Leif who was here before Some Random Spanish Friar who was here before (maybe Zheng He who was here before) Columbus was here.)
and Thor Heyerdal beat them all. (see 1:46 (marco polo), 2:06 (leif-ur), and 3:19 (columbus) and what he says there?...not 'crap.' also 4:30 (roald), 5:37 (neil), 6:16 (lillehammer), and oh, just watch the whole thing. the subtitles are actually not that bad.)
Anyway. tomorrow I am NOT retracing my steps, because all I have to do to get to the Alameda County Emergency Medical Services office is to take the bus, then the bart, then walk across the street.
why norwegian winters are sometimes a scary, scary thing: the voiceover says "you've seen riverdance...you've seen stomp...now they're here, direct from broadway and west end, welcome the group...
...buttstomp.
Yeah. The Cat. The Cell Phone. The Mystery.
I'm hoping it's in the car, because it's not under the couch (which is where I found it last time) or under the cabinet (where I found it the time before last). tried calling it and it went directly to voicemail, bugger. so don't try to call me.
I'm not translating it, but it made me snicker and snort the remains of my mocha on the cat.
sorry Jayne.
oh, and there's more. but I'll leave that up to you.
this begs the question if someone's written a book about parthenojesus.
oh, I'm going to hell. at least I'll be in good company.
and I'll go happily as long as there's a DVD player, a TV, power for the same, and all the NCIS DVDs ever made.
The Kitten has been banished to my bathroom since his episode yesterday of leaving little brown pawprints all over The Boy's bathroom. he's mewling pitifully, but since The Boy caught him licking his soap, which apparently some cats just do for fun, hopefully with the banishment of the bar soap the leakage will cease. still hoping I don't hear from the vet that it's worms or some parasite, because soap is so much easier to fix. Raz is also upset because his playmate is banished- he'll go sit outside my door and paw at it, which sets the kitten off, which makes raz start with his I'm-a-dying-baby cry, which makes me start wondering when I'm going to get a phone call from my neighbours or child services, and have to explain...no...it's not a child...it's a furkid...
I don't have genetic hypertension, so you, Universe, are intent on inducing it in me via improbable collusions of events.
well, Universe, Murphy, Anti-Karma... it ain't gonna work.
...ok. it might.
At least the cat is medicated now (even though my arms are slowly turning into swiss cheese...stupid cat you're supposed to like the flavor of the goo) and will with luck stop...leaking. even if he did decide to be sick at the worst possible time ever. like the garbage disposal picking a great time to need a $300 upgrade. gah.
Also, Landlords of the world: if you're gonna write a deposit return check, then a) spell the recipient's name right and b) make sure you've got funds to cover it.
Question to the ether: if you incur charges because your ex-landlord's check didn't go through, can you make your ex-landlord pay it? and doesn't a bank kinda have to tell you that a check for you hasn't cleared? and why does the cat keep attacking my laptop?
Thursday, October 02, 2008
you tolerate a bad smell. you tolerate dealing with a broken leg. you tolerate bad weather.
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, STUPID California I hate you die.
Raziel hates me because I took him to the vet today. Jayne hates me because I took him to the vet today AND back to the shelter to get him microchipped since they were out when we adopted him. The city of El Cerrito hates me because I parked on a white curb.
just a white curb. no signage. the green curb on the opposite side was posted as a 30 minute parking zone, so I deliberately didn't park there since I wasn't sure how long I'd have to wait at the vet's with the kittehs. The curb by the corner was red, which is obvious no matter your state. so, me, I park where all evidence suggests that I am safe and happy.
what the hell does a white curb mean? a 3-min load/unload zone. NOWHERE in the CVC does it say that a white curb = 3 minutes. I couldn't find the elusive 'ecc' that my ticket cited. CDOT gave me nothing. CDMV gave me nothing but distance-from-the-curb and hill parking and 'obey posted signs' which is FUN when there aren't any. where did I find something, anything stating that a white curb = 3 minutes? wikipedia. WIKIPEDIA. What. The. Fsmurmgggrrrfraghlmr.
and I know. Ignorantia juris non excusat. (although I think that's been bastardized by the legal system and that ignorantia legis neminem excusat is closer to what they mean when they say that ignorance of the law excuses none BUT that's the angry classicist talking. ((back in the box! back in the box!)) )
"I will not explain it, because then you will see the djinn in your dreams." "Actually in this village I am a famous sheep murderer."
go watch "37 Uses for a Dead Sheep" because it's awesome. Turkish sounds like a great language to be a crotchety old man in. 09poop''''';;;;;;//;hgjkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk-,h
how on earth did the cat manage to spell poop? probably because that's all he does. ah, well.
although I did start watching based entirely on the fact that when I saw the title, I heard Lars-Trygve's voice in my head saying brightly "I saw a dead sheep!" in response to Marte's "I saw a gosling!" after The Great Sheep Caper.
please, by all that is holy and right and wonderful in this world, please let it be so that this woman needed several takes to make it through this video without cracking up. please.
otherwise, I'm going to cry. and move to my happy little island of sanity.
So according to MyHeritage.com's celebrity photo matching thing, I look the most like Rogue.
or three of the popular K-pop stars. or Zhang Ziye. or a J-pop star/actress.
...now I'm not saying you're not going to find some entertaining fragments buried in my genetic code that don't come from Norway or Germany (Hello, Northern/Eastern Europe!), but I'm pretty sure that mongoloid isn't going to be applied to my skull in the far future. (Hello, futuristic Temperence Brennen! ...wait, that means I died a horrible death and ended up somewhere strange. ok, let's back up. um....Hello, Temperence Brennen working on cataloging a old cemetary full of peacefully-dead folks!)
Anyway. no matter the photo, there will be at least 3, more likely 5, of 10 lookalikes that are asian. is it like that for everyone? I don't know.
I'm off to make my SALMON ONIGIRI OMGYAY*, grab my knitting (shawl of doom will die), and head to BART to muni to muni to the building where I get to fork over $90 to take a stupid computer based exam. boo NREMT. boo.
*I have been listening to my lecture notes for the past 3 days. oh. mai. gawd. I think my brain is fssszzzzzt. so you can just deal with the outbreak of intarwebz.
I have long held that this movie is, in fact, fantastic, so I was most pleased when I flicked on the TV for more paper sorting, sighed when I realized that it was a Burn Notice marathon and not an NCIS marathon, decided to see if there was a Clean House on (I love me my Niecy! even though she drives The Boy insaaaaane), and happened to pop into R&G on my way down the channel list.
Just in time for the wind.
and as I was watching, I went...that...looks...like Gary Oldman. can't be. I'd know. check info. gasp. it is. flippin' sweet.
although the evil part of my brain is going "where's PETA now, hm? who cares about the TORTURES being inflicted on countless innocent waterbears, huh? HUH?" but it is being hustled back to its cynicave by the more rational parts of the brain, which are going "shutup! are you nuts? you want them to go even crazier? back in the cave! now! don't make me get the superego..."
anyway, back to the shiny. from the great XKCD. who I recently discovered has alttext tags on all his comics, which meant I had to go aaaaall the way back through the archive. not that it was that painful. twist my arm.
(that's Oh for Pete's Sake, for all y'all non-classicists. dvs, everyone who isn't Mom, since I don't think grandma and grandpa read this. hi, Mom.)
But seriously folks. Why is it that you can find all manner of freaked out people ranting and raving and quoting and fearmongering about pinko commie plots against us, the Good People of America The Brave, involving that sweet bane of our existence, Fluoride, and the aforementioned Terror of The Deep, Dark Doctor's Office, Vaccinations.
oh god, oh god, we're all gonna die.
Except that we ARE, because nowhere can I find the masses mobilized against the overproliferation of antibiotics. note that I mention 'masses,' because there's plenty of info out there, but I'm talking about your stereotypical, internet-forum poster with lots of pretty links and well-written (and horribly written) vitriol.
(please note that each of the links above will lead you to a shiny website of www. insert-topic-here debate.com. someone's paying for that domain.)
and yes, this website's fairly shiny. but they're about all manner of things, like bovine growth hormone, global climate change, etc, and this is just one small subset of the massive website.
google 'antibiotic debate' and pretty much all the top articles are of the 'feeding antibiotics to livestock' variety. "antibiotic overproliferation" gets you...a sudden jump in really big words that are by no means friendly to the general public. (do it with 'antibiotic overperfusion' and you need a medical degree. sheesh.) "antibiotic terror" gives you everything you want to know about Anthrax. But take note of the third link down. yes, still about Terror (Fear! Fear! Fear!). but what specifically?
MRSA.
your four letter word for "oh my god we're all gonna die and this time I'm serious, man."
Multi-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus. Think it's hyperbole? they're still crunching numbers, (and yes, I know, stats are stats are stats and you only trust them as much as you can throw them), but it's very likely that in 2007 more people died from MRSA than did from AIDS around the world. it can lead to sepsis (mmm, bacteria in your blood! yummy!), TSS, and necrotizing pneumonia. (...ew.)
You don't need antibacterial hand soap. OCD? get an alcohol wipe. kills the bacteria AND the viruses, not to mention your beneficial skin bacteria. oh, well. Antibacterial Body Wash! Antibacterial window cleaner! Antibacterial spray and wipes for your door handles and kid's toys! Antibacterial laundry detergent! Antibacterial Kleenex and Toilet Paper. (you laugh. I've seen it.)
soap. and. water. go ahead, add a capful of bleach to your mop bucket or some vinegar to your spraybottle if your skin is getting that skitchy feeling after Billy's friend Joe has been wiping his snot all over the walls of your house and toys and the cat and you. raw chicken goo on the counter? soap. water. lemon juice will make it smell nice. and Billy can drink it without side effects other than an unhappy digestive system.
let's save the antibacterial soaps and sprays for industrial use, hm? like BART bathrooms, because....ew. and hospitals, although even there, the little squeegy things near almost every entrance and exit? alcohol based.
on the other hand, this cracks me up and gives me hope. (I have quite possibly been reading too much Mark Morford.) you thought you'd seen every peripheral possible for an iPod? you thought wrong. Hi Larry Ass. (thanks, scott, for a wonderful turn of phrase.)
on the other other hand, what is it that makes me unable to post a reply when it's obvious that I am never going to influence the debate?lkjh;lukjkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkj988b and why does Jayne insist on adding his unintelligible 2 cents to everything?
I just took a quiz where I was prompted to choose what I'd indulge in if I wanted to get myself a treat. the second option down was "a new book" and I mentally said "aha, perfect."
then I kept reading, and the second from the bottom was "some art supplies."
I may have said an indelicate word.
choosing the first, I was given this response:
You Are a Lip Piercing
You are rebellious and defiant. You resist conforming and following rules. You're the type to get pierced anywhere you want, and you're not taking your piercings out for anyone! Reflective and philosophical, you've spent a lot of time thinking about how you'd like to live your life. And it just so happens that your preferred lifestyle is pretty far outside the mainstream. While people may find you standoffish, you aren't necessarily rude, mean, or judgmental. You just don't try to fit in. And that's enough to scare most people away!
Neither one is a piercing that appeals to me, but hey, random meaningless quizzes are what the internet was meant for, right? *cough*
the wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly, but they finally turned enough to let the NREMT agree to let me test! whee! tomorrow I get to call whoever it is I need to call and find a test center and date.
also, thanks to more waiting for jam-to-become-jam-and-not-really hot fruit juice, I have discovered that: (not going to link all these, because some of them aren't very entertaining, but you, too, can lose time to blogthings, should you desire.)
I am "76% Obama, 24% McCain" (but not likely, because it was a two-option thing, and we all know how much I love those.) my travel profile was disappointing; I was hoping for a quiz, not a "check off the cities you've been to and we'll calculate a percentage" (hello, people...there are more than 15 cities in europe.) I belong in the UK. (although the quiz title was "what english speaking country are you") I am Very Worldly. I am a Natural Beauty (read: too lazy to wear makeup and fight with hair) I am 48% democrat, and 20 % republican. (I guess the other 32 % is off with arbeiderpartiet.) I am a Moderate Mama (other alternatives were Liberal Lady and Conservative Chick) (this one's pretty dead on, so far.) I am Chinese Food. I should Play The Harp. (because apparently my dominant personality characteristic is my 'zen-ness' and my secondary personality characteristic is my 'quiet independence') I am more like Angelina Jolie (than Jennifer Aniston) My psyche is Yellow. I am Macaroni and Cheese. I should learn French. I am 60% Normal. my 80's Theme song is Living on a Prayer by Grambonjovi. er. Bon Jovi. I should be a Cherry Redhead. My beauty element is Earth. I am a Classic Martini (which means that my drinking soulmates are the Chocolate Martini people and my drinking rivals are Margarita Martini people, which begs the question...what the hell is a margarita martini?) I need some Black in my life (which I do believe contrasts rather glaringly with the whole Yellow psyche thing.)...but if I change my last answer, I need some Green in my life. My Dosha is Kapha (but I trust Randi more than any internet meme) My power bird is a Vulture. I am a Light Pink Rose (thus, I represent sweetness and grace. please don't die laughing.) My boobies' names are Mork and Mindy. (well, they are now.) I like names that are Retro and Fashionable. My Geek Profile shows high Academic Geekiness and moderate Music, Scifi, and Geekiness in Love. I am a Blue Girl, and my Inner Color is Blue. I am 78% Tortured Genius, and I could pass 8th grade science. I am best described by the paintig San Giorgio Maggiore, Twilight by Claude Monet I am the Tango. My inner muse is Euterpe. (that's music, for those of you non-classicists.) Alfred Gockel should paint my portrait. My name is Marshmallow Angel Rockstar Itchylips Teddybear Flawless Raspberrylips Easy Yummybear Angeleyes. My Scandinavian Name is Halle Kirby. (kirby? what?) My Inner Blood Type is B. (inner blood type. wow.) Lucy Lawless is my Celebrity Boob Twin. I have a Melancholic Temperament. I should honeymoon in Mexico. (nah.) I am an Auditory Learner. If I were a goddess, I'd be Psyche. My aura is Blue. (other blues are Angelina Jolie, the Dali [sic] Lama, and Oprah, and I should be a Psychic, Peace Corps Volunteer, or Counselor.) What would a Dali Lama be? and can I be present for the conversation between the Dali Lama and the Dalai Lama? (Dalai Lama: Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own- Dali Lama: FISH!) I am 48% Misanthropic. and lastly, if I were an art movement, I'd be Romanticism.
for god's sake- I thought I'd heard the worst possible pseudoscience-informing-policy bullshit, but nope.
don't read the comments. it's bad for your blood pressure.
don't believe me? someone stated that antibodies aren't around anymore because of vaccines, and that's why we're seeing measles etc etc outbreaks.
um.
um.
um.
the whole point of vaccines is that you create antibodies in response to it! Edward Jenner is spinning in his grave enough to power the entire eastern seaboard.
if you can't vaccinate your kid because of autoimmune issues or the like, then fine! be glad that (hopefully) most of the kids your kid will encounter won't be likely to pass along an illness to your kid. if you don't want to vaccinate your kid, then don't bitch when you get kicked out of day care, school, play group, or whatever. if you have the freedom to do something, you have the freedom to experience the consequences. deal. with. it. if you can't vaccinate your kid because you can't afford it, then let's organize a takeover and go hold the government hostage until they put in some USEFUL healthcare, like, say, total coverage until the age of 18, free.
(hi, homeland security! yes, I did just use the words 'hostage' and 'govenment' in the same sentence. oops! did it again! neener neener neener.)
the pertinent part of this little clip is the quote at 0:55.
tomorrow between 1400 and 1800 we get to pick up our new kitteh. he is little and fluffy and stripèd and cute. the woman at the animal shelter saw us playing with his buddy, who kept trying to escape, and when we said we were interested in adopting not him, but his buddy, she went "oh! but..." and I said that since the other little cutie was so outgoing, he would certainly win someone over quickly, and that we'd had experience with a shy fluffball. (and in my brain I said "and the one we want is preeeeetty.)
Carrie Vaughn is evil for making me wait so long but sainted for getting two books out in one year.
Unknown, 2009.
S.L. Viehl has a new Stardoc coming out.
I do hate it when authors kill off their main characters. still. She hasn't pissed me off as much as Jennifer Roberson did, so I'll keep looking forward to her books. (that sounds terribly...I dunno. snotty? I know full well that sometimes the characters don't do what you want them to do, and that the authors in question are not writing their books for my personal pleasure. It's just...I liked Cherijo, not memory-wiped-weird-not-cherijo-Jarn. I don't quite 'get' her. Maybe the next book will make me better like her.)
October 2008.
Mercedes Lackey still loves me.
Apparently Mercedes Lackey's dream cast for some of her characters includes Sting as Firesong and David Bowie as Falconsbane.
Vanyel? Johnny Depp. Oh yeah. I'd go see that movie. well. those movies. About as fast as I'd go see Johnny Depp as Crowley in Good Omens.
November 2008.
Laurell K Hamilton's next Meredith Gentry book is out. Hopefully this series won't follow the same path as the Anita Blake series.
June 2008.
WHAT. lies! I haven't seen Shadows Return anywhere! Lynn Flewelling, there's a gummint consp'rrcy keeping me from your goodness!
ahem. er. anyway. there's also a new one in the summer of 2009.
Jacqueline Carey has a ton of new books out, but it's been too long since I read her first series and as I recall, they were ...dense. in a good way. but still. not easily picked up and put down, like...say...on BART. or AC transit.
Spring 2009?
More Mary Russell from Laurie R King? we can but hope.
Ok. Blogger is officially pissing me off now. why does one line- four words- of non transliterated hebrew make my layout go all manner of wonky? sigh. Unfortunately, it's hit my stubborn button, so I will win. even if it kills me.
Here's the thingie from kateswiegehts. again.
yadda yadda use random music player, boo stupid format restrictions, first line of each song, I hate blogger, friends guess, yadda update when they guess right.
stupid blogger.
1. Open your eyes undo the seem 2. If you wanna hang out you've got to take her out. 3. La lune, trop blanc, 4. It begins to tell 5. Well I'm getting up now 6. She's got her halo and wings 7. Det er meldt regn så til de grader 8. They told him don't you ever come around here 9. Just a little bit stronger 10. Halleluja! Halleluja! Halleluja! (again. mom's the only one getting this one.) 11. I think we need an agent 12. She's alright but sometimes she's so wrong 13. DJ please 14. The mama pajama rolled out of bed 15. Parkeringsvakt vær fornuftig nå 16. Hot hot hot sweat sweet 17. Mai-ia-hii mai-ia-huu mai-ia-ha mai-ia-haha (the 'numa song' ain't gonna cut it.) 18. Stars are out tonight 19. Youth culture 20. Od yavo' shalom aleinu (I HATE YOU BLOGGER.) 21. Vi- vi kunne fly 22. Oh Maria Maria 23. How can the small flowers grow if the wild winds blow and the cold now is all around 24. Wandering child so lost so helpless 25. Take away the sensation inside 26. Hei lå li lå lå lå lå lååååå lå lå lå lå lååå lå lå lå lå leeei lå (um....good luck.) 27. Fox in the snow 28. Pardon me while I burst 29. Gloria nomeus jesu'kristo 30. This ain't a song for the broken hearted
stupid meme not allowing the true version of this 30 song thing cause I can't represent lyricless songs. like THE BEST SONG EVER. but I can't find it online and I'm too lazy to (or not annoyed enough) to faithfully recreate the previous post. go buy this. right now.
I think I broke the blog. At least the formatting thereof. I took away the hebrew! what's the deal, bloggie me boy?
I planted the figs today! finally. the wild turkey fig has three little figlets, the panache...has lots of pretty green leaves. here's hoping that it's not one of the wasp-pollinated figs, cause otherwise...no figs for me.
the passionflower has its own pretty pot AND trellis, so it's no longer grasping for anything like legs, bikes, other plants, the grill...trust me, it was the Plant of Doom.
I discovered the Fine Living Network runs the original japanese Iron Chef. it is awesome.
unless you discover this during Battle Cuttlefish.
Bracing For Inflation. ....bracing? really? Let's look at what we were paying for gas a few months ago: 5.10. 5.10! Five-teeen, fiveten! *cue Grosse Point Blank "ten...years! ten years! quote...go*
a little late, guys.
but. but. but. he. ehehe. ehehehehe. so I was trying to find a clip on youtube of the aforementioned "ten...years! ten years!" quote, since I'm sure no one but my mother is going to understand it, but found this instead.
and it made me giggle like a fiend, so I share it, as a balm to the soul.
aliumque:
et:
also: two things. 1) Ho. Lee. Shit. 2) ...waaay too much time on your hands, dude. but I bow to your epic patience and fiddly nature.
what? google maps doesn't know where something is?!
is true. I finally called my ride-along and said "um...you don't exist. how do I get to you by ungodly early tomorrow?" (I paraphrase.) Talked to someone at the main office, got transferred to someone else, then was told it's just off the freeway exit. which means it's about 1.3 miles away. biking took me 11 minutes, although I sat at the stoplight FOR EVER before gritting my teeth and biking through the red light.
add "stoplights that only run off of sensors" to the Hate List.
as I got there, the only way I saw that I was at the right building was the giant 'am-ba-laince' (oh, orvis/scott, you crack me up) pulling out of it. I got a very strange look from the driver, which said "um...why is there a girl on a bike in a glowing orange shirt that says "stay out of work, stay out of trouble, stay out of jail" on it? guys?"
I biked away without further interaction.
Someone's car "I'm locked now" beep sounds exactly like the cop car "watch it" siren beep. it's very unnerving.
On my way home I stopped at the general storelet and got a cherry garcia bar. mmmm. ben and jerry's = awesome. Ate it while wandering around on the dock, and spotted two moon jellys (one fresh, one...not so fresh) washed up on the rocks, so I meandered back to the mom and children eating their ice cream (popular idea, y'know) and mentioned that they were there, should they desire. last thing I heard walking back to my bike was "Whoaaaaa! they're huuuuuge!" and "eeeew!" and "we should take it home and show dad!"
my evil biological oceanography plan is furthered by such baby steps...muahahaha...
I realized that almost none of my current knitting projects are on ravelry. will fix that. eventually.
don't do shrooms. or if you do, don't come to my ER. I'm just sayin'.
feet. so. hurty.
ate lunch at cafe on Tgraf. good. pulled pork sammich. got lemon ice freezy thing at different cafe, which was original destination, but had only fried chicken or egg salad sandwich for foods and we wanted something else. was also good.
found yarn store! not open mondays, though, which was sad.
Clinical in T-4 hours. I am suitably attired in Icky Uniform Pants of Death (mmm, polyester...) and Pseudo-Official Polo of Presentableness. (a stretch. I know. but it's not that bad of a polo, so 'of Poo' (which came to my mind first) isn't applicable)
But.
since I am feeling squicky because they didn't tell us anything about what was expected of us, I am also sporting one of my favoritest tshirts ever:Best. Basketball. Team. Ever!
well, actually, not even remotely. Still. I loves it.
and peering over the couch at it, daring it to leap at him, and then whining when there's divots left in the leather (stuff it in your sock-hat and eat it, PETA) from The Kitteh launching himself off of / over.
in completely unrelated news, I was attacked by Meow Mix while making lackluster chicken carbonara, and The Kitteh was pleased.
Knitting on Sweeney Todd progresses nicely. Knitting on Amber's Scarf progresses...not at all, because I still can't decide why I don't like it. I may have to (shame) frog it. Which would be A Pain In The Ass because I knit it in sections, lengthwise, being paranoid that I'd run out of yarn, then grafted them all together while I was Playing With AC Transit, my absolutely favorite activity ever. Not.
Have my clinical tomorrow. am nervous. have no idea what to expect, and am not exactly sure where I'm going, since there are two "Alta Bates" hospitals near Telegraph that aren't Alta Bates Summit. (because otherwise there would be three.) luckily, I get to eat food and drink coffee with Steph beforehand.
So I've discovered another great knitting blog. Crazy Aunt Purl. and in reading through the archives, I have wanted to laugh out loud (but have restrained myself, since The Boy would be greatly confused if I were to try to explain and I'm sort of trying to keep him around and not scare him off, y'know)
but still. Today, I read this:
Up 'til now I have been using the paleolithic method of laundry, where the heat and pressure from the top of the pile cleans the clothes at the bottom of the pile. No diamonds emerged, but the socks did band together and try to stage an insurrection.
Hilarious. and I am guilty as charged of attempting the same.
You should go check her blog out.
also? Eomer is hot.
and one of the things I like best about the Lord of the Rings movies is the little tiny facial expressions that last only for a second- like Aragorn's "oh, look...orcs...I shouldn't...but...oh, hell, why not, let's go have some fun" at the top of the hill before the Fellowship splits up, and Legolas's glance of "Are you f*cking kidding me? I mean, I know, I'm the Piratical Elfboy of Troy, but still..." before he runs up the elephant-that-is-not-an-elephant-oliphant-thing.
(The Boy and I have been watching the Trilogy, if you couldn't tell.)
I particularly like how I'm 75% of all the following: Vimes, Carrot, Vetinari, The Librarian, and Nanny Ogg. All of them. Together. I'm not sure what that says about me, but I'm sure it's quite entertaining for further psychiatric assessment.
You are Samuel Vimes! Captain of Ankh-Morpork’s city Watch! You are a knight, married to the very wealthy, noble lady Sybil Ramkin. You often walk the streets at night, and are able to tell where you are by the feel of the cobbles under your boots. You always do what is right – that is, what needs to be done – to keep the city safe, even when it seems bad.
Carrot Ironfounderson
75%
Commander Samuel Vimes
75%
Lord Havelock Vetinari
75%
The Librarian
75%
Gytha (Nanny) Ogg
75%
Esmerelda (Granny) Weatherwax
56%
Death
56%
Greebo
50%
Cohen The Barbarian
38%
Rincewind
38%
My clinical is Monday, and my ride-along is Wednesday. The Universe is making up for the extreme delay in getting my paperwork processed. Let's just hope that extends to the NREMT and jobhunting as well. hm?
I had my dates wrong. I have until April 09 until my next Dresden fix.
Sad panda.
Amber's scarf needs something. I'm afraid it's going to turn out to be beads.
your first glimpse of mountaaaaaaaaaains:this mad-looking little bird. chirping away, greatly indignant that I was daring to take his picture. I like the look of crazy in his eyes, although I think he's altogether too dry-looking for such a damp day.
Rereading Small Favor. Dresden + Oceanography = WIN.
Why the Kitteh is strange, Part...whatever. I'm sitting in The Ancient Black Pleather Armchair Monster, wrapped up in a blanket, either getting sucked into the depths of Ravelry or getting bashed upon by giant stinky bears/cougars/minotaur lords in Oblivion. The Kitteh decides that the computer is consuming too much of my attention, and jumps up onto the arm of the chair. He then proceeds to walk across the keyboard, stick his butt in my face, then flop down monorail-cat-style on the other arm of the chair.
This is not exciting enough, though, despite a few half-hearted bats at the mouse, so he jumps up to the back of the chair and bats at my head, then stares intently at the totally blank wall and makes the strange "I want that" cat noises. at nothing. no bug, no spider, no bird sounds...just blank, sort of egg nog colored wall.
Still boring. He then jumps back to the arm of the chair, steps on the laptop again, claims the corner and attempts to bite the corner of the screen, glares at me when I flick my finger at him, then proceeds to nudge my arm out of the way, burrow and paw his way around and through the blanket, and go spelunking behind me. But he can't really go that far, since I'm leaning back, and instead settles for turning around and hunkering down, only the tip of his nose showing.
But even this is boring, so he nudges and pokes his head out, taking up a sphinx-like position and staring intently at my computer screen. see?Then: sudden excitement! some piece of carpet fluff catches his eye and he leaps for it, digging all razor-sharp Claws Of Doom into my leg in the process, and is clearly highly entertained by the squeaky noises made by moi. He was later banished to prevent further Knitting Disaster.
as I'm writing this, The Boy is torturing The Kitteh with the laser pointer and a pop-up frisbee. and he's also torturing Aurelius the goldfish, who keeps trying to eat it whenever a drive-by laser ends up in the fishtank.
Still haven't heard from EMS instructor about externships! notwheee!
but mountains! wheeee!
also, today's Nemi. So...what do you do for a living? You- I think you are unbelievably beautiful, that was why I wanted to go out with you and drink wine- but do we have to talk about that? I mean; like everyone else always does? I'm so tired of it! "bla bla bla"- Boring! it's like everyone has been given each their own spiel with the ability to talk on what they have in their heads- and it is never real, fine things that really mean anything! Couldn't you have instead asked me about what the finest sound I know of is? can't we talk about how long it has been since we sat in trees or what scared us most when we were kids and if we're still afraid of the same things? ask me about which five things I have to do before I die!
...you don't want to say what you do for a living? Self-defense. I'm trying not to push you away.
every job needs a master's degree. or 1-5 years of experience.
oh, wait, here's an entry level position.
"excellent opportunity for students. Minimum requirements: 1-3 years experience in similar lab environment with a Bachelor's degree in related field. no official lab experience excluding college labs is acceptable with a minimum of a Master's degree in related field."
yeah. entry level...who knew it meant absolutely squat!
and I apparently picked the worst state to become an EMT in, and the way things are working out I won't be able to apply for jobs as an EMT until late august if I'm lucky, september if I'm not, and our old landlord hasn't given us our deposit back yet, which we kind of maybe needed to pay things like, you know, rent and loans, but hell, we don't need food, really, and sure we can continue abusing the grace and generosity of my parents because we still haven't started our payment schedule for our car loan and if I apply for a different job (which basically would be retail, since science jobs suck and don't consider college lab or field experience to be field experience despite the fact that that's the whole point of taking the fucking lab/field classes to begin with) then I've essentially wasted 3,000 dollars on an EMT class. and...grumblegrumble...
What. The. Fuck.
I'm sorry. I blame Orvis for my language, just like I blamed Johnny after I got off the boat. yes, there is a profession that- at the very least ties, if not exceeds- sailors for profanity use.
on a lighter note, I saw an episode of Survivorman where he went to Baffin Island. there were several times when my evil marmot was saying "...psh. pansy." man has no idea how to build a snow cave. you build down, not up. down good, up bad. up good for lunchtime windbreak, and if you're building an igloo, fat rectangular cubes are your friends, not skinny slabs.
and the cat is still cute, although still enamoured of the 'attack-the-form-under-the-blanket-at-0300' polar bear stomp.
and that's basically keeping me from sheer and utter insanity. that, and mountains = t-7 days.
Cyan: finding anything you like? Nemi: well... in the world of shoes, this pair is a deep-water fish. they have bulging eyes and are slimy! and they have a boooooip on their head like this that lights up and scares all the other fish that want to be on a shelf far away from these shoes. Blonde: wha... Nemi: *shudder* Cyan: She doesn't like them.
I'll leave you with that.
that, and an equation.
3 shots + 1 arm + overeager BART door* = OW.
*seriously. this isn't like an elevator door, that gently closes- barely making contact, you know- and then sproings open in shock that it might have closed on a gooshy human. This is BART. BART doors close, then press, then squeeeeeze- then reluctantly slide open about a centimetre. Also- People of the East Bay? do not amble idly during rush hour.
in an interesting congruence of events, I had my skills test for emergency childbirth today, which is the same day that my cousin Eric's wife Robyn had her bebbe!
little bebbe Little Ick. aw. I'm with Eric- go for Tor. :)
We beat out the other 5 people who had applied for the kitty. I'd have a picture, but he's still wicked* shy and hides under the bed or the couch until about 10pm, when he comes out and wants to play and jumps on the bed and says mjau plaintively because we're not playing with him and tries to eat my plant and sit on my head.
*10 months of living in the Bay Area, and I still have yet to absorb 'hella' into my vocabulary. thank. god. Living in Mass, apparently, made a bigger impression. that's ok. wicked is an acceptable superlative.
so no picture yet of kitteh. now he's pissed off because we trimmed his claws and put on Soft Paws, which are these cool little plastic caps you glue onto their claws so that when they try to claw things they fail. and when they're comfy and happy and to show it they do the 'I'm going to dig-my-claws-through-your-legs-into-your-femur' thing they also fail.
I love the look on Viggo Mortensen-as-Aragorn's face as he faces the horde of Uruk-Hai and orcs at the top of the mountain before they split up the Fellowship. it's all "oh, look, a giant horde of beasties that want to kill me...flippin' sweeeeeet." and the Piratical Elf Boy of Troy is all "what? me? hold off the stream of warbling orcs with blinding fast arrows? no, dude, it's totally not CG. elf's honor."
hung out at the pool (elliot's) with the crew, then got invited to be party crashers for not-dinner (since we'd already eaten and weren't planned-for eaters, y'know) at some of our extra-geeky friends' place in Marin. got to see their new aquarium setup.
might be getting a kitty. went to petsmart for gravel because the undergravel filter in the betta/frog tank went splort (it was nasty. like whoa. congealed algae. ew. that's what 2 days of 80 degrees in old apt did, and what prompted the early move to new apartment.) and paused to look at the kitties that hopalong animal rescue had at the petsmart. six very bouncy kitten-kitties, and a tired, relaxing mama-kitty going 'thank god, the divider's up...' and two teenager kittens that were less acrobatically ADHD than the kitten-kittens, which isn't actually much.
and then there was The Kitty. apparently named Sport, (which won't last long if we actually get to adopt him) he's a very shy, very gorgeous kitteh. looks just like this:only with husky-blue eyes. like a little tiny amur tiger. rarwr.
every time I have to carry my passport and my wallet at the same time, I get this little tiny shiver and a tiny little voice deep inside me says "...go."
and man...today...I really, really, really, want to listen.
because I have finished my last. ever. masteringphysics problem set.
whooooooo!
joy. rapture. a hard boiled egg.
and now, as a treat, I shall watch more Dexter.
which is pretty good, despite the fact that I find the way they're portraying Deborah to be totally contrary to my mental picture, which, since the guy who plays Vince and the guy who plays Doakes are dead on, will probably require rereading of the first two books. (yeah, like you'll have to twist my arm.)
although apparently the kids are normal, and not carrying mini Dark Passengers, which is sad, sad, sad.
c'mon. if CSI can have several sociopathic children on their show, why can't a Showtime show? I mean...it's Showtime. it's like HBO-fall asleep watching some funny little comedy, wake up to Super Real Sex XIXXI etc.
aspiring graduate student of biological oceanography, currently hosting an epic battle between real life working as an EMT and the rebel alliance in my brain that want me to run away to the tundra and spend my days knitting, skiing, reading, writing, and playing with molten metal.
some days the Rebels win.
right before I maneuvered the laptop to take the picture he was passed out, his head flopped back onto the window screen, both legs straight out against the sill. 
from the great XKCD. who I recently discovered has alttext tags on all his comics, which meant I had to go aaaaall the way back through the archive. not that it was that painful. twist my arm. 
Best. Basketball. Team. Ever! 
.....yet.
this mad-looking little bird. chirping away, greatly indignant that I was daring to take his picture. I like the look of crazy in his eyes, although I think he's altogether too dry-looking for such a damp day.
Then: sudden excitement! some piece of carpet fluff catches his eye and he leaps for it, digging all razor-sharp Claws Of Doom into my leg in the process, and is clearly highly entertained by the squeaky noises made by moi. He was later banished to prevent further Knitting Disaster.
Cyan: finding anything you like?
only with husky-blue eyes. like a little tiny amur tiger. rarwr.
