Wednesday 24th March 2010

observations, scientific and otherwise

it's been seven hours and fifteen five days since she took her love car away. long enough for me to compile an ordered list, of things, just in time for her to come home to.

  1. she claims the covers end up on my side of the bed in the morning because i pull them that way in the night. i claim it's because she rolls exclusively to her left (toward me) all night, converting her own rotational energy into linear motion of the covers. in these last five nights that i've had the bed to myself, the comforter has mysteriously remained perfectly centered, without having to pull the frakking thing four feet back over to her side every morning.
  2. by the narrow definition of the word, i have no actual proof that fast food eaten in a girl's presence tastes better than fast food eaten not in a girl's presence, but i have some anecdotal evidence to that effect.
  3. sometimes, fast food eaten not in a girl's presence does not taste as good as fast food not eaten.

    by the way. 'froots?' i seem to have a vague memory of these 'froots,' and their odd-sounding cousins the 'vej tubbles.' will you please tell me more?

  4. the freedom to leave the seat up is a pretty minor one. i cite the fact it's a well established habit for me to put it down each time, cover and all; leaving it up requires conscious effort and just leaves me acutely aware of the act's underlying emptiness.
  5. bulldog kisses are a damn poor substitute for wife kisses.
  6. pulling on yesterday's socks is way easier than going downstairs and collecting the clean laundry.
  7. cynical schadenfreude is most satisfying when it has the opportunity to annoy someone.
  8. measured in terms of wakefulness, appetite, and leg-jumps per hour, the dog is less happy when chelsey is gone.
  9. measured in terms of wakefulness, appetite, and leg-jumps per hour, the boy is less happy when chelsey is gone.




girls, you just don't know the power you have over boys. if you do know it then you are evil geniuses. evil, pretty geniuses. we just don't stand a chance.


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Wednesday 3rd May 2006

stupid dumb dumbness

what am i doing for lunch this fine wednesday, this very dead-center of the week, this bottomless valley out of which lies the long climb to the weekend?

grumbling in mouth, mind, and stomach.

i go to the local mctaco king in the box outlet and sit in line for nigh ten minutes before ordering. it is only then that i realize i have no wallet. in this greedy grubby society people rarely do things without thought of reward, and corporations never do; thusly i sputter curses and mumble something under my breath when the nice guy at the window asks me for five stupid bucks. the loose change in the car has all been spent on coffee, and (being picky about financial matters) they don't accept discarded wrappers or bits of gravel as legal tender.

i speed back to work expecting to find the rotten thing lying smugly next to some pens and folders and such—but no. it's clearly not here either.

at this point i realize that one of two things is true:
1. my wallet has sprouted a brain and motor appendages and has hitchhiked to parts unknown, maxing out my credit cards on a joyride of sin and debauchery. i will get help from the police who will try their hardest but tell me in the end to just let him go. i will hire private investigators who will turn up nothing. then, just as i am about to give up hope he will call me three weeks from now, using my own calling card, to tell me he's sorry and wants to come home and will i please come to tijuana and pick him up. i will say 'yes, of course, i'll be there as soon as i can.' i will catch the first flight south and we will have a tearful reunion and in the background someone will be singing a jingle and i will see the camera crew and will go on a rampage when i discover it has all been a visa commercial. i will finally be subdued by airport security and army regulars who will throw us in jail. after nineteen months of torture and near-starvation and sensing my death is near at hand, i will tell them all i know, at which point my government will finally locate me and storms the prison, killing my captors and freeing me. i will be too weak to leave with them, though; i will ask for my wallet and i will die in his arms.

2. i left the thing at home where i removed it from my back pocket because it is uncomfortable to sit on.


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Monday 3rd April 2006

comicon, comicoff

this weekend in seattle i went deeply into the red in both personal spending money and wife-points, gleefully spending both on some very silly things at the fourthennial emerald city comicon. i picked up some neat comic books—ahem, i'm sorry, graphic novels—loaded up on free schwag, saw the penny arcade guys, unloaded the free schwag into my car and went back to the free schwag table for more free schwag.

highlights:
stale nerd sweat
six-person descent
finally being the least nerdy person in the crowd
artwork more powerful than you can possibly imagine
gabe cursing at tycho, in real time
actual jedi

lowlight:
food. as happens all too often on the road, i wound up with too much fast food in my belly. fried food is not food. it's like yoda says: chew or chew not; there is no fry.


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Tuesday 30th August 2005

maowage

all parties involved were glowing and oozing happiness. except the bibleboy, whose dance moves on the platform suggested that he was about to simply ooze.

and oh wowee zowie the food. if anyone responsible is reading this, you have my highest praise.

food, flowers, music, lights, tables, dresses and suits, even the coffee: all winners. the bride will tell you that we stole her song. i will tell you that we got married fourteen months ago.

the bottom line is that it was a terrific wedding of terrific people. if i ever get married again, i would want to have a wedding like this one.

(OUCH WIFE why are you hitting me, that joke was all in good fun)



on to the /meta agenda (and also on the back burner of my mind) is a hatelife wiki, which anyone would be able to add to and edit. any thoughts? would any old/new hatelife users be interested? if the answer is generally no, please please tell me before i throw another log on the fire.

how am i to concentrate on work with them talking about generators and electronics and solar panels and port 80 and other nerdy stuff all day long? these conditions are untenable.


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Wednesday 24th August 2005

this realm, this … salmon

the river trip we just completed was tremendous and i wish i had written something about it earlier (rather than become enamored with a fresh style.css file to play with), because now the details are slipping into a general sense of what the trip encompassed, and general senses are rather difficult to write about when one has a brain like mine. but i'll do my best, as always.

waterfalls and hot springs, and sometimes both. the plop of elderberries on slow, deep water. a tent, a sleeping bag, a pillow, a wife. sunscreen and bug spray and deodorant and biodegradable soap. a perfectly cast line, and the fish!—inches and inches and inches of cutthroat trout, all tauntingly catch and release. tinder, kindling, down-and-dead wood. fire island (no relation). the unabashed horror of the scat can. the love/hate relationship with the inflatable kayak. the shock of cold water on sun-warmed skin. sore muscles. bruised hands. torn feet. pancakes and eggs and horrible little fake-meat turds almost every morning; contrast with well-smoked salmon followed by an abundance of spaghetti. river otters on the opposite bank, for which cutthroat trout are not catch and release. running to catch up with the boat. a long-overdue tan. a long, long night drive in another man's diesel truck pulling another man's trailer whose lights refused to light, attracting the attention of a nice gentleman in a dark blue suit and a black and white car who told us what a good idea it would be for us to drive two hundred-odd miles with the four-way flashers on—the same ones that would begin to make strange scraping noises very late at night. arriving home and the subsequent race for the shower. a long, sad unpacking.

and that was my exciting vacation. holiday. thingy.

my parents just returned from their own vacation holiday thingy to the uk. they mock us with their postcards. 'oh hello, landlocked americans. today we got lost in camden town market, had fish and chips in a pub, and had high tea with h.m. the queen herself! also we got take-away, took the tube, and went to the loo. tomorrow we're going to formally separate from the roman catholic church. cheerio, fatties!'

damned tourists.


i'm only beginning to understand the bbc radio version of douglas adams' hitchhiker series. it's so superlatively different from the book after about the sixth episode that following it becomes a chore (albeit a very enjoyable one, due in part to the fact i am strangely attracted to lintilla's voice) for my book-familiar memory. and why have i not yet seen the movie? the answer to that is unknowable.


dear anyone: we must play risk.


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Sunday 3rd April 2005

well, I'm back

I'm messed up, and will be for days. what a difference an hour makes. I'm firmly of the opinion that if you want more daylight in your day, you should simply get up earlier. wouldn't that have been easier than making the rest of us shift our system of measurement twice a year?

fascists.


sin city is visually stunning. it's just a shame I've never read the original(s)—as it was, the necessity of the continual violence was lost on me. but if you can stomach some intense CGI'd blood (now white, now red, now yellow), and if you like the eye candy as I do, it's a good flick. at least rent it. some day, people smarter in these matters than I am will probably say it was an 'important' film.


consumption of ben & jerry's dublin mudslide is my new favorite way of contributing to the heat death of the universe. oh sweet beautiful best of all possible worlds; I defy you to say it is not so whilst your mouth is full of this pure joy.


you sense the presence of monsters! you unstack your rod. … I know, just simply know, that if I download this my life will certainly fall apart. I'm already reading the book (see the list somewhere to your right) and it's taking all I can give to put it down once in a while to do things like speak to my wife. WIFE you saved me from a rush of blood from the head but can you save me from the radiant beauty of the silmarils?


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Tuesday 15th February 2005

you are not your pile of junk

we've completely moved. (but we have yet to finish moving in.)

every part of me is sore, I can't find anything I need, I didn't sleep well last night and niether did she, I'm not feeling well owing to having eaten only fast food and reconstituted pizza for the last week, my router ist kaput and I haven't yet explored all the ramifications of this, my fingers are rubbed raw from moving sandpaper-covered cardboard boxes from here to there and back again, and there was no room for the old couch in the new place.

but now I get to reorganize my entire collection of needless worldly goods. so it all works out in the end.


THOM YORKE please sing louder, the neighbors are pounding on the wall so clearly they cannot hear you well enough.


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