I'm pregnant.
April Fool's.
ha, ha, ha.
The Poison Prince has returned after two blissful weeks without his presence. In 15 minutes he has managed to throw a wet blanket of negativity and despair over the land, causing lots of swearing with his e-mails full of red all capital letters.
Thank gawd I have a light at the end of this tunnel. Hope I can escape today without a personal encounter.
Okay, time for my semi annual rant about the time change.
Most of you should know by know that I hate it, and truly believe that Congress maintains this archaic clock management system that benefits pre-electricity agrarians so that we are too tired to protest unfair tax codes.
The time change totally snuck up on me this time; I got out of bed Sunday morning thinking that I must have slept pretty late. I was confused as the cable box reflected the "new" time, but Godfrey's backwards clock was set at the "correct" time (another layer of confusion to the mix, that) so my foggy brain took a few hours to realize tha the annual theft of an hour had been perpetrated. My internal clock was off and I had no idea when I should be preparing meals. I tried to stay up late but still couldn't fall asleep - what time was it, midnight, 1, 2 AM? This morning I was convinced that it had to be too early as it was so dark, even though I knew I had corrected my bed side clock to reflect the "new" time. And now, at work, the day is absolutely dragging by. I will surely have no energy to "enjoy" the extra hour of daylight. Frankly I'm not inclined to mow the lawn when I get home from a full day of frustration work.
Bite me, Congress!
Some suck-up has brought donuts to celebrate Captain Insanity's birthday.
He has inspired me to consume too many empty calories already, so no thanks.
Meanwhile, a cow-orker constantly whistles the same section of the song "Mad World" by Tears for Fears. While my love of 80s music likes his choice of tunes, I'd really appreciate it if he'd, oh I don't know, maybe finish the song!?!
Get this: olive & feta flavored crackers. The package claims they're "great for entertaining". I say they're great for hording and inhaling. Too good to share. Top them with Cajun Krab Dip, and there's a party in my mouth! And some of you are invited!
This taste sensation has been brought to you by the Super Target. That's right, a Target on steroids, complete with groceries. While I find that Super Mal-Warts always have a sense of despair about them, Super Target is fun! I mean, they have Isaac Mizrahi designing for them! What's not to like? Nothing! They have a Starbuck's and fresh sushi! Hooray Super Target!
It's apparently true - I'm not getting any younger. My doctor, Dr. Heavyaccent, had the nerve to say this to me as she pointed to my age, written in a large scrawl across the top of my chart.
Needless to say, I'm looking for another doctor. But that's the subject of another entry.
So here I am, hurtling madly toward middle age, if I'm not there already, still don't own a house, no kids (that's something I'm happy about, actually), and I'm about to go to grad school - which will put us even farther from going to Europe, home ownership, and the other things one normally does when one is "not getting any younger".
I'm either stupid, crazy, or a free spirit. Possibly a combination of all three.
But I think I got the last laugh when dining out recently. I ordered a beer, and the waitress carded me. She apologized, saying that she had to card anyone that appeared to be under 30.
"I love you," I told her as I showed her my ID.
Ahh, the gentle sound of rain - mixed in with the rumble of distant thunder, early in the morning. So soothing, until you remember that you left the car window cracked open and that it's been raining for 12 hours.
Why do people insist on microwaving fish at the office? Perhaps they don't realize that their fellow cubicle inmates do not appreciate working in a place that smells like a wharf.
(Before anyone can say anything - wharf is not the Klingon guy in Star Trek Next Generation, who smells like lilacs, according to one episode. And I am very embarrassed that I know that.)
The first part of this one was inspired by a recent "found / spam" poem composed by Faciteundas; he did some neat things with repeating a motif. I am still working on one in iambic pentameter, but rhyming is proving to be a bit of a problem.
Escaping Offshore
Just a thought
Hi, a question for you
Wanted to share something with you
Important
Check it out
Haven't seen you around
Pantomime hubbub
Wrathful bridegroom
Centimeter
Super Penile Machiavelli
Algorithmic cramp
Guaranteed by science to work
Attract and seduce men
Escort misogynist hoof
Pornography aforethought contemptuous
Derange wail
Goal: Sacramento frigid
Hobbyhorse concocter shame
I think that designing a web site with a committee composed of people who have no experience in HTML, graphic design, or advertising is brilliant! I mean, first of all, everyone knows that designing things by committee always works great, because it's so easy to get a consensus. Second of all, if you don't know what goes into building and maintaining web sites, you're freed of all practical concerns. What a great idea! Why have a web designer present at that meeting? Those designers, always nay-saying! There in their ivory towers!
"I think it's brilliant! Dare I say, genius? No - but maybe...he saw the idea, he picked it off the tree, and he put it in his pocket!" (Steve Martin in "Roxanne" discussing the 'Octoberfest in July' idea by the mayor.)
Well, my first choice, Miami of Ohio, denied me. It soothes me a little to know that they only took three people for the program I was applying to. (If you're applying to grad school, beware a window envelope from the admissions department. Trust me.)
Florida State has made me a nice offer, so it looks like we are moving to Tallahassee, which some of you may recognize from the 2000 election debacle. I went to FSU my freshman and sophomore years, before making the odd decision to transfer to UF. So FSU is my once and future school, as evidenced by the following student IDs.
Not to be an alarmist or anything, but it seems that talcum powder, frequently found in make-up products such as the lovely Clinique compact I purchased last night, is Bad For You. This, according to the informative article found here at preventcancer.com. Not quite sure why it hasn't been banned if it's so bad. The talcum powder industry must be pretty powerful. You'd think they'd put a warning on it, since people powder their "special areas" with that stuff. A damn shame, really; I love that make-up. So much so that I'm considering keeping it and using it anyway. I will probably initiate a search for a safer replacement in the meantime.
There's a billboard on the Interstate that features a picture of a big juicy steak, with the accompanying text, "What Vegetarians Eat When They Cheat". Isn't any meat a vegetarian might eat cheating? And doesn't that just beg for a dirty joke?
johnkerryisadouchebagbutimvotingforhimanyway.com. Despite the silly name, there's some analysis on the image of Kerry, and analysis on how "Special K" is perceived on certain topics can be variously attributed to the media, to the Republicans, and to Kerry himself.
I also found this article on the "Skull and Bones" connection that binds Kerry and Dubya a good read, though it seems a bit more alarmist than the situation may need to be. Democracy Now tends to be alarmist, though generally intersting. It basically sounds like they're both in the same snobby, very wealthy fraternity.
Isn't it time we got a third party here? They're both jerks!
It's true: I DO have a lot of problems with Florida. It's hot, it's humid, the drivers are stupid, it's hot, there are bugs here that are bigger than canned hams, the traffic is awful, it's hot, there's more pollen than the average pair of lungs can handle...
However, since I have been looking at this place through a camera lens this year, I've been reminded of how damn pretty it can be here. Especially in the spring. Colors like you wouldn't believe. Warning: big images ahead.
This is wisteria, and the stuff grows wild, though this particular clump is in my Mum's neighborhood. Purple! More common in north Florida.
Here, our intrepid shutterbug plays with depth of field. Ooooh, ahhhh.
I have been wanting to photograph this rather run-down piece of Florida history for some time. Actually, I think they are still open for business, though with the advent of the Interstate system, most tourists don't visit places like this on 301 anymore.
More interesting in black and white.
I think the intense color of these azaleas is too much even for modern color film. They're this bright fuschia that almost hurts your eyes. These plants are also more common in the northern part of the state.
Saturday we had a yard sale. It's all part of an effort that includes eBay, donations to charity thrift shops, yard sales, drive-bys, and possibly bonfires. Anyway, the ad said 7:30, so of course the early birds show up at 7, while we're still carrying stuff outside. The first guy asked at least three times if we had any trains or military collectibles. He seemed disappointed that I didn't have any of my father's awards there to sell to him. (If I had them, pal, I wouldn't sell them at all! And asking the same question over and over is not going to change the answer!) The second bird was a strange one, an oldster who had been lured by the ad's promises of art supplies. He demanded to see them, and I brought out the large box of paints. "These are too old. Look, they're all dried up. They aren't worth anything!" "Well, then I expect you won't want to buy them, then." He grudgingly offered $7. I insisted on $8, mainly because he was such an ass. He walked off in a huff, but he kept looking back to see if I had changed my mind. Later I let the box go for $5 to a much nicer person.
That old coot obviously never heard the old adage about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar. Being nice has helped me out over the years; I usually have a very good reason when I'm specifically not nice in a situation.
Today, I have sneezed some 345 times. It's quite exhausting. Not to mention annoying. Stupid pollen. Only five more years or so and the allergy shots should start working.
I saw this rather confusing set of signs during my visit to the English department a couple of weeks ago.
One day this week, I saw a bunch of DoC inmates picking trash along the side of the causeway. It was a beautiful morning, so I hope they were able to at least appreciate the fact that they were in prison and on garbage duty, which sucks, but there are worse places to do that besides the beach on the bay.
