"Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am vast. I contain multitudes." -Walt Whitman

:malicious user:

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

psst...over there, under "obsessive behavior": new new stuff.
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Monday, September 29, 2003

hello world. serious randomness.

it was an interesting weekend. unfortunately, it's too soon to blog about it. let's just say there were two completely unrelated events that could both involve legal action. i'll post more when they pan out. or peter out.

in the meantime, i also cooked (& ate) quite well this weekend. it's the second most relaxing thing i can think of to do in the kitchen. saturday i made chicken in a cranberry/wine sauce. sunday i made emeril's muffaletta, but with bakery-bought sourdough bread. if you're interested, let me know and i'll post the chicken recipe.

the bs level at work is getting so bad i'm tempted to wear shorts to the office.

if you like richard thompson, or any of the female alt-country post-funk insert-your-ultra-cool-genre-label-here artists in the patty griffin mode, go get thea gilmore's new cd, avalanche.
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Friday, September 26, 2003

fill a room with half a dozen software testers plus QA. add coffee. add many krispy kream donuts. stir. close door.

commence testing.

we find our fun where we can.

incidentally, this is more dramatic if you substitute a classroom of kindergarteners for the testers. but after the caffeine kicks in, the behavior is pretty much the same.
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Monday, September 22, 2003

just had a half-hour teleconference where one of my coworkers joined me in my office. in that time she managed to (1) eat a significant amount of the candy in my candy dish; (2) rearrange the furniture; (3) spool out a foot of cellophane tape to toy with; and (4) leave behind a full styrofoam cup of water sitting at the edge of my desk.

lovely.
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Saturday, September 20, 2003

as i was saying...

drew and i took my 1976 datsun B210 to syracuse to move some stuff for my brother whilst he interned in ohio. [incidentally, it being my first car i had to name it, and her name was yaz pistachio. 10 points to the first person who gets that reference without having to search google.]

the map my brother provided worked fine until we hit the syracuse city limits and found out that the city fathers had implemented a massive upgrade of the highway system in, through, and around the city. after an hour or so of detours, we made it to his apartment.

like most city centers and college towns i've seen, parking near the apt was at a premium. i drove to the end of the block and found a mostly vacant gravel parking lot with an honest-to-god parking attendant booth containing a real live human being. i asked if we could park the car until 7 or so the next morning, and the man in the booth nodded.

and the gods snickered under their breath...


the entire contents of my brother's apartment consisted of one or two dozen cardboard boxes of his stuff, and mattress. my brother's apt was across the street from bragg's, a restaurant owned by the artist of the same name. drew and i had recently attained legal drinking status in the fine state of new york, and had even more recently attained a huge appetite borne of being in a car for six hours, so off we went to an evening full of beer and food and laughter, and more of each. somewhere around dessert the skies opened up (i seem to recall syracuse being one of those cities where it rains 423 days a year), so the trip back across the street was enough to soak us to the marrow. drunk, bloated, and drenched, i fell asleep looking forward to moving my brother's stuff in the rain under the pall of the impending hangover.

morning broke yellow and runny like the last egg rolling off the kitchen counter and hitting the floor, spattering your shoes with the last hopes of a hot breakfast. no, seriously, that was how it felt. worse than the hangover, the sky did not even have the decency to remain dull and cloudy. no. it was sunny and painfully, metallically white, the kind of bright that seeps in around your closed eyelids and runs slivers into your pupils.

i left drew at the apt and went down the block to the parking lot.

which was not where i had left it the previous evening. so i cursed my hangover and my confusion and the sun and syracuse in general and walked back the OTHER way, to the parking lot.

which was definitely not there either.

a block in the original direction then. to where i had parked my car.

no car. no parking lot. the lizard brain inside, the part that likes to sleep, especially through hot bright mornings in strange cities, crept to the forefront and peeked sleepily out through my eye sockets. "mmmgggmmm," it said. "shut up," i replied, "we have a situation."

"gggrmmrggddoood"

"shut up. i've lost the parking lot. it had my car in it. i need to find the parking lot."

"mmwwooodddggg"

"huh?"

"wwoooodd"

"wood?"

"wood."

indeed, there was, across the street, not far from a rumbling bulldozer [bulldozer? danger, will robinson!], a pile of wood that was somehow familiar. as if it might have been, in a previous life . . .

a parking lot attendant's booth.

i checked my watch. 7 am.

i stepped over the wood and approached the hard hat on the bulldozer. it seemed the parking lot had been scheduled for demolition, and had been closed for days. someone had apparently taken down the chain across the entrance. possibly the same someone who had been loitering in the now defunct attendant's booth and had assured me i could park there, free of charge.

[it should be noted that i could not recall this mystery attendant's appearance for love nor money. which is probably a good thing, because at that point i would have devoted my life to hunting him down like the one-armed man; and when i found him, i would have done unspeakable things to him involving toothpicks and an EZ Bake Oven.]

mr. bulldozer informed me that university facilities had had my datsun towed to an undisclosed location. i panicked. this was a strange city (getting stranger), what would happen to yaz? would she think i'd abandoned her? would she forgive? would she run off to canada and get funny plates?

i left the gravel-pit-nee-parking lot and collected drew. he took the news with that complacent, confused acceptance characteristic of the recently awokened and hungover - like i could have informed him that in our stupor last night we had joined the french foreign legion - and we traversed the campus for an hour until we located the facilities building, which was closed for the weekend. then we trudged back to the security administration, who said that yes, they were the evildoers who had towed my car.

drew was recouping in the lobby. i was sweating that horrible beer sweat. "thank god," i said, "can i have my car back please?"

from the skies above, more snickerring.

"we don't have it"

it seemed my car was now in the possession of the tow truck company, as syracuse university, thanks to the brilliant idea of completely reconstructing every square mile of the city at the same time, didn't have an unobstructed lot in which to store seized vehicles.

a taxi was summoned to take us to yaz. picture this: i stink of beer, rain, sweat, panic, and no shower; so does drew. we are in the back of a taxi without AC, staring wildly, trying to memorize the route from the campus to the impound lot as our driver takes detour after detour past machines pouring tarmac in the syracuse summer heat.

up above, the sniggering and snickerring has become outright guffawing.

mr. impound lot wants $50 for my car. after paying for the taxi, i have $40 in my pocket. yaz is shooting me pleading looks from between a very big lincoln and yellow chevy that looks like she's been around the block a few times. i feel like the 98-lb. weakling having sand kicked in his face while the bullies tease his girl. mr. impound lot doesn't want to hear my sob story. he wants $50 dollars. i only have 40, i tell him. then i don't have a car, he tells me.

there is now uncontrollable laughter bellowing from the skies.

and then i remember. i produce my dad's amex card.

somewhere in the skies, the laughter stopped abruptly, and a voice with a slight northumberland accent said "oh. forgot about that."

so drew, yaz, and i made our way back to the apt (thanks to using all remaining brain cells to memorize the route), and packed up my brother's stuff, and moved it all into his new house. while we unloaded boxes into his new bedroom, we made several trips past his new housemate, who sat completely motionless, dressed in fatigues, with a cane in his left hand and a patch over his right eye, staring at the HO train layout dominating the livingroom. normally, we would have been nervous about a semicomotose one-eyed cane-clutching man obsessing over a model railroad. but drew and i were now veterans of the syracuse mindwarp, and were immune to off-beat grad students.

afternoon, and time to drive back to long island. five miles onto the northway, i got pulled over for doing 70 miles an hour in a 55mph zone. as i drove off, citation in hand, i heard a chuckle from somewhere up above.
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Friday, September 19, 2003

Frgovie me if tish is odl:

Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in
waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht
the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae.
The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm.
Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef,
but the wrod as a wlohe.

amzanig huh?
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Monday, September 15, 2003

tequila mockingbird, whose posts often have the emotional whang upside the head that makes other would-be writers falling on their knees bleating "i'mnotworthy!", has been kind enough to subject me to a 5qI.

first, my attorney advises me to get the legalese over with so as to avoid yet another embarrassing lawsuit. please stand for the reading of the rules:

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment saying "interview me" (or something that gets that point across).
2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different.
3. You will update your journal with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

thank you and be seated. now, tequila's turn to be barbara walters (and i will try not to break down into tears):

[drumroll please]

1. does it matter to you what happens to your body after you die?

to paraphrase john prine, throw my brain in a hurricane and kiss my ass goodbye. when i was younger and more idealistic, i thought that serving science or being filleted for donor recipients would be an honorable pasttime for my body once i was done using it. then, when i was heavily into reading horror fiction, i chanced upon a trilogy of stories about organ donors (i think it was ed bryant, but i can't find any references on google) that changed my viewpoint for years. now i suppose that i personally don't care all that much from my own point of view, but i hope that when i die, there is someone left behind that cared about me enough that he or she would want my body treated with dignity, whether it be burial, cremation, or some other option.

2. are you attracted to people with personalities that are similar to yours, or different from yours? what similarities, or differences, can you identify as a pattern in people you're attracted to?

i can't imagine two misanthropes enjoying each other's company, so i can't say it's 100% similar. i guess i can best answer this one by thinking about angel and i. we both enjoy the same pasttimes and have similar values. yet our backgrounds are considerably different, and our experiences are vastly different. i think the attraction is born of the honesty between us, the interest we have in each other because of the differences, and the ideals that we have in common. she is by far the funniest person i know, and the most beautiful, and the most trusting and trustworthy. she's also intelligent and street smart. the only other person i have the same closeness to is my best friend, and the bond there is more shared experiences than shared values (we often differ greatly on our habits and values). neal peart once wrote "just between us, i think it's time for us to recognize the differences we sometimes fear to show; just between us, the spaces in between leave room for you and i to grow."

3. bob, you're a guy...what;s the big deal about catcher in the rye? all my guy friends say i'm an idiot, but i just don't get it.

thanks for noticing.

catcher in the rye was probably the first book your guy friends read - for class, anyway - that contained profanity. and if they had in-class reading, they got to curse aloud in class and not get detention. something like that stays with you, because when you're a high-school age boy you develop a chokehold on any little rebellious act you can. because, after all, when you're a high-school age boy no one understands you and the world is friggin nuts and you're the only one with all the answers only no one will listen. . . kind of like holden... oh wait, i'm starting to see the attraction. think "the bell jar" for boys.

of course, if these guy friends have graduated high school and they still think catcher is the greatest novel ever written ("hey man, it was banned by the government man!"), they have other issues i can't help you with.

4. best onscreen sex scene ever. ready? go.

there's a devil on my shoulder whispering "deliverance"...


in recent memory, i would cast my vote for sex and lucia. sensual and incredibly hot.

5. describe the perfect pizza.

extra cheese, pickled pepperoncini, and pineapple. best served on incredibly humid nights in virginia with the ceiling fan spinning uselessly and all the worries in the world 400 miles away.



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Sunday, September 14, 2003

now & then

now

the felon has returned to virginia. much to my surprise, and to his mother's, we enjoyed his visit. he's the poster child for the multiple-personality disorder attendant upon heavy drinking, but since he was sober the entire visit, hr. hyde stayed at bay. his bus was scheduled to leave at 8:50am saturday, so i planned to drop him at the bus stop on my way to see my kids. we arrived at 8:48am, and i parked in front of the charter bus at the curbside. following the felon to the bus, i addressed the bus driver to ensure that a ticket could be purchased on board, and to explain that only the felon was going to virginia beach, not both of us.

whereupon the driver told me his bus was not going to virginia. the greyhound had left a few minutes ago.

a call to greyhound confirmed that the next bus out was leaving in just under 24 hours.

i said a few words that i don't plan to teach my children. then i called greyhound back to find out when the bus was expected to stop in hempstead, the last stop on long island before moving on to nyc and points south. greyhound informed me that the bus left hempstead at 9:25am.

it was now 9:05. i had 20 minutes to drive 20 miles.

i have a 2002 honda accord dx. it looks like, well, like every other car on the road. it accelerates like a cement block moving uphill. 0 to 60 in 40 seconds, with the wind at my back. nevertheless, mere minutes later we were speeding west on the long island expressway. luckily it is after labor day and before thanksgiving, so you can actually go places using LI's network of parkways and expressways.

at 9:24am i pulled in front of the greyhound bus, parked illegally, and saw the felon onto the correct bus. next week i will address the "maint. required" light on the dashboard.

then

almost half a lifetime ago, i had my first car, a tangerine 1976 datsun b210 four speed. i couldn't stop on a dime, but i could do a u-turn on one. i was 18. my brother bill was attending syracuse university, but was interning a summer in ohio. he had failed to move a few boxes of belongings out of his old apartment into his new one across town in syracuse, and asked if i could drive up and move them. no problem. drive 300 miles to someplace i've never been, move your stuff, then drive back. to some people, this might seem to be an irrational request. but to me, it was an excuse to make a road trip. i gathered a change of clothes, my dad's american express card ("for emergency only!"), 60 dollars, my cassettes, and my best friend drew. bill had mailed a very detailed map that clearly showed how to get from our house to his old apartment, and to his new apartment. off we went.

it was a beautiful day, the mountains were majestic, i had my own car, my best friend, and lots of loud music. if you cannot empathize with this scenario, you are truly dead. after chugging up a peak, the highway began a long straight descent into a valley. fourth gear was humming happily, and the speedometer tapped the 70s. the tachometer teased the 4000 rpm mark. yes's live version of starship trooper was rumbling from the speakers. drew and i looked at each other and grinned that stupid grin teenagers get when they have just wordlessly agreed to do something stupid together. he turned the volume to 11. i pushed down on the accelerator.

if you have never heard starship trooper, you are missing half the picture, but you can follow along anyway. it is ten minutes of progressive rock overkill, and ends with an anthemic section that you can equate to, say, carmina burana or ode to joy in it's shear bombastic outpouring. steve howe's guitar slowly gives way to a growing, growling synth progression that eventually explodes into one of rock's best keyboard solos, releasing the tension that's been building for the previous seven and a half minutes.

somewhere in the mountains of upstate new york, the gods smiled upon drew and i. the organ grumbled and rose like a giant awakening; the speedometer passed 90mph, and we flew through the valley's shadow. at the moment wakeman's synthesizers fully exploded from the speakers, the datsun hit 100, and we erupted out into the sun as the highway passed over a gorge. drew and i yelled as loud as we could, and watched the speedometer kiss 110.

i shifted to neutral and let gravity slow the car as we began the next ascent. the cassette ended, and drew and i rode in silence for a while. it was one of those moments that lasts a lifetime. here i am telling you about it, so there's your proof.

the trip, incidentally, would go downhill from there. way downhill. but that's for another post. maybe later today.
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Saturday, September 13, 2003

i promise to post more later, about the missed greyhound and doing 100mph in a datsun b210. later. right now it's movie/snuggle time with angel (j.).


like you care.


hello, lurkers. k. this means you.

hello stalkers. wanda, this means you.
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Friday, September 12, 2003

the man comes around
johnny cash (1932 - 2003)
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Thursday, September 11, 2003

with the wound still wet
after you read this post, take a minute to say a prayer.
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Tuesday, September 09, 2003

warren zevon died sunday.

the world has lost a treasure.
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Monday, September 08, 2003

here comes the story of the hurricane . . .

i'd known j about 6 months in august 1998. it was a long-distance relationship (ny to va), and would stay that way until june 2002. i would drive down each weekend, and drive back sunday night. we'd been tracking hurricane bonnie since monday the 24th. on thursday the 27th at 11am, the national weather service downgraded bonnie to a tropical storm, and the east coast waved byebye as she drifted east out to sea. i left the office at 4 pm and started the weekly trek southwards. 384 miles straight down the seaboard, following route 13, which is rural road from delaware on down.

if you go south, you have a crossroads in northern delaware whereupon you must make a decision. staying with route 13 is faster because it hugs the coast, even though it's got traffic lights and speed traps and too many signs for ham/fireworks/bbq/cigarettes. the interstate (I95) goes southwest through washington dc, down to richmond, and you can catch a state highway back east to the beach. it's superhighway, but it's three more hours of driving.

i called the chesapeake bay bridge tunnel at the crossroads, to ensure that it was still open. no prob, they said, come on down. route 13 it was, towards the 17 miles of pavement over/under water that connects the eastern shore of va to virginia beach.

at 11:20 pm i was two miles from the northern end of the bridge-tunnel.

whereupon they closed it.

an hour earlier, bonnie had decided to have another go at the mainland, and had picked up strength as she lumbered westward. at 11 pm the nws upgraded bonnie to a hurricane. again.

bonnie and i met at the toll booth.

approximately two dozen cars and a dozen tractor trailers were directed to the rest stop next to the toll plaza by the state police. it was a choice between waiting out the hurricane in a parking lot a half mile from the ocean, or trying to make the ten-hour round trip back up to delaware and back through dc.

i chose the hotel nissan.

i parked facing west, then ran across the road to the police annex, where the only phone within 2 miles waited. the eastern side of the road was blanketed in reeds and sea grass; the west side was completely clean. the rain came in bursts, like a bucket brigade being dropped on us. the wind was incredible, but also incredibly warm and humid. i called j to let her know i'd be a little late. her house had already lost power, and they had sandbagged the front door. a few hours earlier, when the storm had been weakening, j had stood in the backyard two blocks from the ocean, arms spread, and yelled at the sky "c'mon bonnie, is that all you've got?". now, bonnie was taking her up on the challenge.

j and her three teenage kids were taking care of the house and j's invalid parents. gramp's airbed had deflated due to lack of power, so they had transferred him to another bed. i was in a 84 sentra 17 miles away. with no way to get there.

the path to true love never did run smooth, did it?

back in the car, i tilted the seat back and grabbed some zzzs. what the hell. even hurricanes get boring after a while.

around 5 am the bridge-tunnel was reopened, but there was no power. it was like an exodus, slowly moving cars and trucks moving across the water in grey morning light. there were none of the ubiquitous seagulls to accompany us, no northbound traffic. the only illumination in the two mile-long tunnels came from our headlights. i rolled down my windows.

there was no wind. at all.

i arrived at j's at about 5:45am. we'd spent 6 hours apart, 45 minutes away from one another. that, people, is the definition of frustration.

hurricane bonnie edged into north carolina's southern coastline near wilmington on august 26, 1998. bonnie was the first major hurricane (category 3) of the 1998 season, and the winds and flooding rains damaged buildings and cut off power to nearly a half-million people. the storm, which was nearly 400 miles wide, stalled near wilmington for an hour after its eye crossed land at cape fear at 5 pm on august 26th. due to the slow movement of bonnie, rainfall totals were rather high in parts of eastern north carolina and extreme southeastern virginia. overall damages are estimated in the $1.0 billion dollar range. insured losses were approximately $360 million, but these losses do not include flooding and agricultural damages, which were quite extensive. three deaths were attributed to the storm. peak wind gusts recorded during the hurricane reached 104 mph.
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BELOIT COLLEGE "MINDSET LIST" FOR THE CLASS OF 2006

Most students entering college this fall were born in 1984.

1. A Southerner has always been President of the United States.

2. Richard Burton, Ricky Nelson and Truman Capote have always been dead.

3. South Africa's official policy of apartheid has not existed during their lifetime.

4. Cars have always had eye-level rear stop lights, CD players, and air bags.

5. We have always been able to choose our long distance carriers.

6. Weather reports have always been available 24-hours a day on television.

7. The "evil empire" has moved from Moscow to a setting in some distant galaxy.

8. "Big Brother" is merely a television show.

9. Cyberspace has always existed.

10. Bruce Springsteen's new hit, Born in the USA, could have been played to celebrate their birth.

11. Barbie has always had a job.

12. Telephone bills have always been totally incomprehensible.

13. Prom dresses have always come in basic black.

14. A "Hair Band" is some sort of fashion accessory.

15. George Foreman has always been a barbecue grill salesman

16. Afghanistan has always been a front page story.

17. There has always been an heir to the heir to the British throne.

18. They have no recollection of Connie Chung or Geraldo Rivera as serious journalists.

19. Peter Jennings, Dan Rather, and Tom Brokaw have always anchored the evening news.

20. China has always been a market-based reforming regime.

21. The United States has always been trying to put nuclear waste in Nevada.

22. The U.S. and the Soviets have always been partners in space.

23. Mrs. Fields' cookies and Swatch watches have always been favorites.

24. Nicolas Cage, Daryll Hannah, Eddie Murphy, and John Malkovich made their first major film impressions the year they were born.

25. The GM Saturn has always been on the road.

26. The "Fab Four" are not a male rock group, but four women enjoying "Sex and the City."

27. Fox has always been a television network choice.

28. Males do not carry a handkerchief in a back pocket.

29. This generation has never wanted to "be a Pepper too."

30. Ozzy's lifestyle has nothing to do with the Nelson family.

31. Women have always had tattoos.

32. Vanessa Williams and Madonna are aging singers.

33. Perrier has always come in flavors.

34. Cherry Coke has always come in cans.

35. A "hotline" is a consumer service rather than a phone used to avoid accidental nuclear war.

36. The drug "ecstasy" has always been around.

37. Genetic testing and DNA screening have always been available.

38. Electronic filing of federal income taxes has always been an option.

39. Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) has always been available to doctors.

40. Trivial Pursuit may have been played by their parents the night before they were born.

41. The U.S. has always maintained that it has a "clear right to use force against terrorism."

42. The drinking age has always been 21 throughout the country.

43. Women have always been members of the Jaycees.

44. The center of chic has shifted from Studio 54 to Liza's living room, live!


45. Julian Lennon had his only hit the year they were born.

46. Sylvan Learning Centers have always been an after-school option.

47. Hip-hop and rap have always been popular musical forms.

48. They grew up in minivans.

49. Scientists have always recognized the impact of acid rain.

50. The Coen Brothers have always been making films.



And in 1984, perhaps it was "Too Soon to Tell"...


Technology analysts questioned the need for briefcase-sized computers.


The National Children and Youth Fitness Study announced that children were overweight and underactive.


A CPA organization heralded that computerized audit systems were being used to avoid errors and they were doing much better at spotting mistakes and providing internal audit controls.


Film critics declared that George Lucas was looking for new directions because Star Wars interest was waning.


Videotape technology was said to be killing the film industry and slowing cable network development.


Analysts stated there was no market for Direct Broadcast Satellite systems.


The U.S. Supreme Court declared sleeping to be a form of free speech.


© 2002 Beloit College, Beloit, Wisconsin


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Sunday, September 07, 2003

what's white and furry and goes "gaWHONG!!!"? my dog walking into a street sign.

we took a walk down the hill today to the farmstand and picked some tomatoes, red onion, and the last ball of homemade mozzarella. then we trudged back UP the hill, with the dog pausing to (a) fall into a sewer grate and (b) trip over a stick. i think it's time to get him trimmed.

dinner was grilled portabello sandwiches with mozzarella, beefsteak tomato, grilled red onion, and spinach sauteed in bacon drippings. on the side, my apartment-famous three-tomato salsa:

4 farmstand tomatos (if you use store-bought tomatos, your salsa will taste like cardboard. and you will deserve it)
6 tomatillas
1/2 lb. sun-dried tomatos
8 - 12 oz. cooked bacon
1 onion
1 clove chopped garlic
8 oz. sliced black olives
juice of one lime
1 chipotle chile in adobe sauce
8 oz. mushrooms

chop everything and toss. you're welcome.

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thanks to modern technology, i can now watch movies that are loaded on my laptop (or in my office pc) on my new tv, in 5.1. cool.

thanks to the same technology, it is sunday afternoon and i am working on workstuff. not so cool.
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about the "current earcandy": it's not that current, but it's too much hassle to constantly update the template. the elp is 15 cds worth, so i really have been listening to it all week. the other stuff is old. i think you can tell a lot about a person by inspecting his or her refridgerator, bookshelf, and cd collection. aside from the fact that i'm generally a misanthrope (but a cuddly misanthrope - picture a teddybear at the bar chain smoking and drinking maker's mark), one of my favorite ways to start a conversation is to ask a person what's in their cd changer.

so what's in yours?
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'sa funny ol' world, innit?

the felon has been polite, sober, funny, sober, helpful, and sober. he is staying until wednesday, after which he's returning to va. he even helped me pick out a new tv (flatscreen 24").

today i spent a few hours running mouse around to do some clothes shopping. we took spawn-of-mouse with us, so j. got a break from babysitting. tonight mouse et al. went to va to pick up some baby stuff we stored down there with relatives. her boyfriend has never made the trip, so i expect phone calls at 3am asking for directions. i hope he doesn't stop for help south of the mason-dixon line, 'cos he looks like a hitler youth white supremicist (he's not, but you can't tell by looking). felon is sober and asleep on the livingroom couch.

but i'm still sleeping with the car keys.
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Friday, September 05, 2003

sssccchhhhiiiittttttttttttttttppphhhhääääääzzzzcccddddd

they make movies on IFC out of days like this...

so.

work got worse, then evened out, then got worse. at least i got to burn 6 disks for sorin & cristina (check your mail soon, guys). dog, bless his soul, offered to take me out for drinks afterwards, at 430. at 425, neeta shows up with 20 minutes worth of work (thankyouverymuch), which lead to me having to work this weekend. at 5 oclock i made it to the bar where dog (thankyouohthankyouohTHANKYOU) bought me many several a few beers. then i went and picked up my stepdaughter from work, and f*ck it and the whitetrash image, we went and got a few more drinks. mouse is very funny when she's buzzing. mouse offered to sign her entire paycheck over to the bartender. (that spelling at the top of this entry is hers). then i came home to face the felon, with the home-court advantage of being more drunk than he is.

then it got weird.

the phone rings. apparently, j's cousin has sponsored us for a weekend at a timeshare in hilton head sc. i told him i was too frazzled to deal, please call back wednesday. he will. if you're in sc, invite us in. we'll pay our way in stories.

so the felon will be spending a night or two on the couch. i've nailed down anything that can be pawned. thank god i'm already flat broke. i'm sleeping with the car keys in my pocket . . . again.

if there are posts tomorrow, it means he hasn't stolen the laptop.

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life is hell

work today has been hours of waiting followed by a screaming match and pissing contest followed by more waiting.

and while i was on the phone with j the felon rolled up in a taxi.

and now my mouse is broken.

i smell blood...
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Thursday, September 04, 2003

the weather is finally getting cooler, which is good because the cat keeps leaving behind hunks of himself. when you have a 25-lb. cat, one good shed can smother you in your sleep.

today my music collection officially passed the 2700 album point. i say officially because there's over 300 albums that i haven't cataloged yet. someday the riaa will strangle the last p2p to death; in the meantime, i'm stockpiling.

a couple of phone calls tonight revealed that my ex-con stepson jc got picked up for petty theft and then released. but since he worked in people's houses as a plumber, his boss had to let him go, because jc had become a liability. the latest rumour is that he was on a bus headed north. he was 394 miles away last night. he may be considerably closer tomorrow.

things could get interesting...

...remind me to tell you the florida christmastime stolen vehicle story some day...
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Wednesday, September 03, 2003

the tv is dead and j. isn't feeling so great either.
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i used to be disgusted. now i try to be amused.
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