New Orleans is hot, y’all. I thought Iowa was sticky in the summer – I had no idea how much like swimming it would feel with a humidity of 94%.
We drove all night to get here yesterday. I’ve never done that, and it was kind of Hunter S. Thompson-esqe (without the hallucinogenics). I swear Viva Las Vegas was playing the entire time I was dancing with the semis at 2 a.m.
I’m at an offsite group session with WiFi. I’m pretending to look up the word “websphere”.
Shhhh.
I’ve had the hiccups three times now in the past 24 hours. That’s the way I roll, yo. I’ve also had the same song stuck in my head since last night. I can’t tell you what it is, or it will never go away. Song-that-shall-not-be-named was a constant soundtrack while Jason and I played tennis after work. I think it went away briefly as we watched “True Romance“, a film Jason passionately wanted me to see. It’s a lot like “A Life Less Ordinary“, only with lead actors I’m not attracted to.
I’m all stressed out. Seriously. Trying to make my life ideal takes a lot of effort. I’d like to write a whiny white-middle-class-girl blues song about it, but I don’t know what rhymes with
I can’t consolidate my loans because they’re either private, or not enough to count.
I have a cat I don’t want, but no one to take her.
I’m going to lose my insurance if I go on vacation.
I have litigation hanging over my head from a rightly broken lease.
The tag in the back of my shirt itches.
My skirt has static cling, because I stopped shaving my legs.
I’m almost done with the book I like, and I loathe to read the one I have lined up.
Dun du-duh da dun. Call me Johnny Lee Hooker. (Sonya Lea Hooker?)
As you well know, I have had my first brush with science fame. Having been forced into*, and hating, the Invention Convention as a child, I am smugly linking to an article written about a camper I worked with when I was a Girl Scout camp counselor. I can tell you right off that this kid was super cool, and, more importantly, super game. She’d freaking try anything. I respect that. I respect that a lot.
Anyway, in the picture I have bad camp-hair, but the shirt I’m wearing has my camp name** on the back of it, and glows in the dark. It’s too bad that even though nasa.gov has my full name in it, you still get a self-help author or soft-core fan-pr0n when you google me. Better than having a name-doppelganger who goes by “Moonie” and loves dolphins.
*Not parental fault. They are only responsible for the “snowsuit incident”, and my eyesight.
**Echo.
I’ve always had luck at libraries. I think it might be they can smell the future librarian on me, or maybe they can tell it runs in my blood.
Twice during my nomadic AmeriCorps year, I managed to wheedle library cards out of libraries near which I lived for no more than six weeks, and with no permanent address in the county.
Today, I managed to let my local library lend me a roll of microfilm, to scan (for archive purposes). Microfilm! You’re not supposed to lend that shit out! I’m a little scared by my power.
I’m having that weird thing happen again, when I’ve been doing too much graphic design. I was just knitting something, and did something I didn’t mean to do. I had that half thought/half reaction of pressing Ctrl+Z. This would, of course, undo the last thing I did.
Except I’m knitting, and neither the yarn nor myself are equipped with an undo function.
I saw the new Star Wars movie tonight. I have to say, it didn’t suck. The first one sucked large large large amounts of antimatter. The second wasn’t much better. This third one is the best of the newbies. Now, I love the fourth, fifth, and sixth in the series – there’s a certain excited feeling I get when I watch them, a triumph.
Maybe it’s that this one aligns to the old school ones. I don’t know. What I do know is that I always find myself acting a little different when I leave movies I really like. For instance, after seeing the first X-Men movie with Abbie and Dave, I couldn’t stop chattering about what our superpowers might be (it turns out mine is the ability to turn into a 13-year-old boy by merely donning a hoodie and baseball hat). I did cartwheels out to the car.
Tonight, I raced home like the fate of the empire rested on the shoulders of me and my Taurus. Silly, yes. Dangerous? Not really. I live in a vacuum. Anyway, I have that super-jazzed feeling of just watching a really good action movie, and I’m a happy camper. It was worth the $6.
Somehow, Jason stumbled upon a web-based puzzle that is not unlike Myst, called Not Pr0n. I have become enthralled with it, and probably won’t post again all day. Oh my gosh, I’m so stuck.
So for my next tattoo I was thinking that I’d get a small square robot head with antenna and a smile right under my left boob. What do you think?
I bought a PDA this weekend. I was going to hide that fact for a while, since they’re not really that hip, and I kind of look like a dork when I whip it out and start jabbing at it while it makes little annoying click noises.
I named it the 6:1, after that particular domino that is the best domino to have in your hand. It’s referred to as “the pet”, so it’s an appropriate title, and since I’m affectionate to my things, it’s an appropriately named gizmo.
I’ve already put a ton of lists on it, which is way better than my last datakeeper, which was small pieces of paper that ended up in the washer and becoming lint.
So here’s my first critique. I would like the ‘tasks’ application to offer an option to throw said tasks (such as “making energy bars”) into the calendar. That way, I’m reminded to get stuff done.