Getting me sport on

5 05 2008

Home of the BravesThis weekend, I did go to the Braves game vs. the Cincinnati Reds on Saturday. I made the first of many bloopers this weekend when I bought tickets for the Friday and we had to buy again for Saturday. Ooops. The next blunder was when I lost my MARTA card but we won’t get into that… anyway, I think I’ve come up with solutions to these issues.

So the Braves creamed the Reds and that was great. I thought it was unusual that people are actually allowed to do Tomahawk chops and all that. In Arizona I bet someone would complain, but in Georgia there isn’t such a large Native American population. So Braves it is. There were some pretty fired up attendees, and I shot a video of the fans up top as well as the joyous crowd out beyond us. There were actually two groups of guys that were chanting at each other in a strange sort of manly solidarity. It was pretty awesome. And another guy was geeked out in American flag pants. Hey, to each their own.

But wait, there’s more from this oh-so-sporty weekend:

  • BULLET OMG: It was a big week for the Hawks, as they managed to not suck as bad as everyone thought they would. They tied the series vs. the top-seeded Celtics and gave sportswriters and angry forum commenters plenty of fodder for a couple days. I saw a good chunk of Game 6 and the Celtics were really sucking it up. Imagine if the Hawks had won Game 7… imagine all the people. It’s funny though, former Suns player Danny Ainge is a big shot over at the Celtics now (the Celtics was his former team besides the Suns). I guess in a way I don’t mind too much that they’re succeeding. I always liked Mr. Ainge and his Hat Store in the malls in Phoenix.
  • Of course, as you know, the Suns got kicked by the Spurs early in the week. For a while, it looked like the Hawks were doing *better* than the Suns. I would like the Suns to get a championship someday. They’re long overdue, but alas, not this year. Not with the current setup.
  • ANOTHER BULLET, HOLY HECK: My Suns fandom goes way back to even before the 1992-3 dream season, when the Suns managed to Not Suck enough to get to the NBA Finals. Back when we had Sir Charles Barkley and Kevin Johnson and Dan Majerle and Danny Ainge and I could go on and on. Even back when they were playing in Veterans Memorial Coliseum instead of America West Arena, er, U.S. Airways Center. They even had one of the most thrilling games of all time as they stuck it out with the Bulls into a third overtime. But, alas, the Suns have never had a championship. I read an interesting article that said it pretty well as the writer mused on the demise of the Suns’ “Seven Seconds or Less” era: the Suns are that team you love to love, but you have to wonder what’s happening and if the success will continue. That said, I’m no sports expert and I’ll always be a fan.

So there you go. This is the most un-female series of postings/musings that I’ve had in a while. But computers and sports are for everyone, not just the boyz.

Rainy festival day

28 04 2008

Inman Park Festival rainHere’s a sampling of some of the fun that was had at the Inman Park Festival (referenced in my last entry). The patron at left, like many others, improvised a solution to the wet weather. I know others had better experiences than I did. I was out in the rain. It was still fun, and there were lots of people out there making do. I saw a child being carried in a waterproof stroller-trailer thing with clear walls. Strangely amazing; no photo. Wares that I took home: beaded hippie bracelets, a tiki sign, a PEZ sign and some refrigerator magnets with quaint images on them. All for $30. Pictures forthcoming. This is almost a holiday for Atlanta’s arts community. Joyful, wonderful and totally MARTA-accessible.

Popular culture fun

28 04 2008

Diners, Bowling Alleys and Trailer ParksWhile I wait for some of my more uh, interesting projects to upload, seeing as the popularity of video uploads is driving up conversion times across the board, I thought I would briefly review a book I’ve been reading. It’s called “Diners, Bowling Alleys, and Trailer Parks: Chasing the American Dream in Postwar Consumer Culture.” It’s no secret that I’m obsessed with such strange things. This book was sort of a birthday present to myself (just turned 25 on Friday, which was Day 1 of an excellent three-day weekend) and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was purchased in a lovely bookstore in Atlanta’s Virginia Highlands neighborhood. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, and I had spent Saturday getting through much of this book, I picked up some “tiki room” styled art and a cheesy PEZ sign at the Inman Park festival before dashing out to escape the rain. I have to think that my purchase inspiration was this book… here’s what I learned. First: I’d never heard of Pinboys before, but apparently setting bowling pins was a highly undesirable job back before the automated pinsetter was invented. Thanks to that, we could bowl and live happily ever after. Second, I guess I’d never given much thought to trailer parks or stereotypes, having long seen so-called “Snowbirds” flocking to the Phoenix area each winter like some sort of annual ritual, traveling as they do in their intermittent caravans of fifth-wheels. (Quartzsite is an example of the RV hobby’s popularity in the state.) All in all, for someone like me, this was heavenly. I really loved the diner pictures, too. I’m kind of an enthusiast. Passing by the Majestic diner in Atlanta’s Virginia Highlands neighborhood on Friday afternoon took me back in time.

Good to have you back

19 12 2007

Today, thanks to the efforts of a kind stranger, I was reunited and it felt oh, so good. Not reunited with an old friend or a black-sheep relative, but reunited with my lost wallet. That pocket-sized polyester casing holds the keys to my identity and finances. Whether or not carrying such a valuable item on one’s person is a prudent idea, I can’t say, but it’s good to have you back, old friend.

Looking at it, you can tell it’s had a rough journey. (Of course the majority of this damage came from the inside of my purse(s)). The MARTA monthly pass and small bit of cash inside were stripped from it, and everything else was left intact. Who knows what filth it went through, what cockroaches and other vermin crawled over it while it sat so destitute at the bottom of the train tracks.

It’s hard to say what happened to it, really. After disastrous experiences like this, wallets rarely like to speak of the horrors they’ve seen. I can only go off the anecdotes of witnesses such as the credit union representative who left me a mildly unsettling message on my voice mail at work:

“Please call back immediately. It is imperative that you contact me as soon as you receive this message.”

After I listened to the message, my heart was racing and my adrenaline was surging. I was certain for sure that someone had broken into my financial fortress and tried to make hell for me. Unfortunately, I have past experience with such things, and have little desire to improve upon that experience. I was on hold for a long time, freaking out as I contemplated all the forbidden charges being racked up on my account. My mind went wild in those few minutes, imagining wild spending sprees and Duck-Tales-inspired dives through piles of golden coins. I could see my Web account access showing massive amounts of money being deducted (since, of course, I have massive amounts of money).

So I eventually got through and she told me that my wallet had in fact been found. Or rather, that a man had called to say he found my wallet and wanted to talk to me. She then proceeded to tell me that this man had basically defied death by jumping into the track area to get it and then quickly getting out before the next train came. (Well, this is MARTA we’re talking about.)

This kinda floored me, so I got the digits for this dude and called him. He seemed to be an average Joe. Or Jimmy, rather. That was his name. He said he did it because it was the holiday season and he didn’t want anyone to go down into the track area and use it for ill purposes. He told me he would take a bus and then a train to get down to where I work. He had just moved to A-Town and didn’t really know his way around. This was actually going to be his first trip to the Centennial Olympic Park area. I thanked him and he said he would come over to my workplace. In the meantime, I dashed off to the gift shop to buy a small gift. So he found his way over and called from the concierge, and an accomplice accompanied me down to the floor for safety reasons.

And there he was. An average guy who felt it was necessary to get that wallet. He told me that he’d gotten to Lindbergh Station (a point where the north line splits off into a Y, and typically a very busy station) and seen a wallet down there. That’s the same place where I realized I’d losst the wallet. He passed by it and then came back again and saw it. At that point, he decided the risk was worth it and got it. It’s a considerable risk, especially given that there is an electrified bar on one side of the track. Luckily, the wallet was not on that side. And if a train comes, it probably won’t be able to stop in time. Plus, I’ve been on trains on a few occasions where the operator has BREEZEd right through the station by accident. So he got the wallet and called my hair salon (yes, I have a poor-woman’s hair salon for my monthly trim off the ends of all five inches of my hair) and the credit union to see if they would make some effort to reach me.

Gotta say, I was touched. I gave him a gift basket and a $20 bill as a token of my appreciation, and my oft-tested faith in humanity was restored. I already have a new driver’s license and have applied for new cards, so that part isn’t so much of a big worry for me. Those cards were set to expire anyway I guess, so we’re just taking care of that a little early. It’s more the identity documents I wondered about. My only question now is, what happened? And how can I prevent this from happening?

On the way home tonight, I coincidentally saw a man get down onto the tracks and search around and then get back onto the platform. It’s quite possible to get something off the tracks and live to tell the tale, apparently, so just leaving it there on the tracks could have still led to ID theft. This sight seemed odd because that’s something I just never see, except on this day. The track area is so full of garbage and rats that you don’t want to go near it.

My inner non-cocaine-using Sherlock Holmes is currently conducting an investigation. Retracing my steps last Thursday night after work, I last remember seeing the wallet at Peachtree Center as I entered the turnstile and sticking it in my pocket (or — I hope not — setting it on the bench next to me). By the time I was exiting the train at Lindbergh, I knew I didn’t have my wallet anymore. So, if someone found my wallet strewn about the train tracks of that station, it’s probably because a person found the wallet and took what they wanted before discarding the rest. There’s also a slim possibility that someone picked my pocket along the way, but I’m not sure. One thing is certain, I think it’s highly unlikely that I dropped the wallet between the crack of the train and platform as I was getting out at Lindbergh. By that point, I knew I didn’t have it anymore.

It’s a mystery. I will try to be more careful from now on, and thank my lucky stars that everything has gone smoothly, so far. That wallet threatened to ruin my weekend (although that didn’t quite happen beyond some hours in the police station and on the phone) and possibly a little more. Nothing materialized though. Good to have you back, wallet of mine.

Thanksgiving bullets

23 11 2007
  • Happy Thanksgiving! It’s been pointed out that I don’t update this blog nearly enough and I’m making an attempt. That's a big bird for Thansgiving on Sesame Street
  • I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but one of the most posted items you will see on the Internets is an image of … well, Thanksgiving on Sesame Street.
  • That image is going around faster than a case of [insert disease here] at Manzy Hall. (Bad ASU joke)
  • Come on ASU, that wasn’t a good loss to the Trojans. Oh well, this team still has a lot of growing up to do and you have to admit, winning the games you’re supposed to win is still quite an achievement in a season like this with so many upsets and weird games.
  • Dear reader, you will note that I am, as per is to be expected, on a Thanksgiving trip to Phoenix
  • Visited a historical reenactment on Sunday that had been going on last weekend.
  • Throughout the week we’ve just been kind of taking it easy and driving, eating, etc., and I”m trying to mentally remap the neighborhood that I grew up in.
  • Watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade for the umpteenth time. I don’t feel right if I don’t see at least one teenage pop star I’ve never heard of lip syncing to ’80s pop songs on a giant pirate ship while cheerleaders and evil muppets gyrate around them.
  • Bob Saget’s helicopter flyover segment was refreshingly jarring in such a sugary sweet event, given his penchant for blue humor.
  • It’s a great way to learn about hot new shows on Broadway, like Young Frankenstein. I might go see that. The dancing Igor is what did it for me. Not to mention Frankenstein’s monster.
  • It’s a common confusion, by the way, that Frankenstein is the one with the arms sticking out and the bolts in the neck and stitches and whatnot. In reality (or my interpretation of it given some crappy Internet research), Frankenstein is just a dude. It was his monster who was “aliiiive,” and the popular image we have is actually a product of a 1930s movie adaptation. I think.
  • Dinner at Avanti’s at 27th Street/Thomas and it was good.
  • I mean we’re talking about Thanksgiving at an Italian restaurant. There were some other folks there who were intrigued by this idea.
  • This is one of those places where you see mirrors on the ceiling and guys with a mildly mafioso style… where it’s not odd to see a vintage Bentley parked outside.
  • You look inside and there are signed pictures from all manner of local celebrities.
  • A little pricey but nice for a special occasion.
  • The lamps hanging from the ceiling are actually blown-glass sculptures with a little notch carved into them for a candle.
  • I learned what a “Waldorf Salad” is. I hadn’t really known before. I mean I knew there were apples involved… yikes.
  • The catch is this Waldorf salad has either bleu or gorganzola cheese in it and I’m not sure if that was the norm. It was a bit of a twist I must say. I think it was gorganzola, and it had a pleasant stink to it.
  • My attitude toward stinky cheeses is that they look and smell rotten because they basically are. But, the food connoisseur points out, they are not rotten, they are merely aged. Just like all the other fungus-covered stuff in my fridge?
  • I suppose stinky foods are not dangerous, unlike the festering mess that always seems to surprise me upon returns from long trips, despite my best efforts to clean out any potential offenders beforehand.
  • I had pumpkin soup, spinach-stuffed turkey rollatini, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans and garlic bread as well. Plus a slice of yummy pumpkin pie.
  • A heated debate started about the commonness of grit in your pumpkin pie. Such grit is, I asserted, fairly common in less-processed pies. I don’t know where it comes from, but it seems like it’s probably just a little sand or other material that gets stuck in the pumpkin when it is cut.
  • Anybody shopping like a freak at 5 a.m. tomorrow? Count me out! Any savings will be badly offset by my typical habit of going waaaay too far and spending less to spend more.

Pumpkin spice and everything nice

18 10 2007

I like to go to Starbuck’s every now and then, and I’m not even talking about the one roughly 50 feet from my Place of Employment. I would rather go to a locally owned coffee house (that serves quality coffee), but it’s tough to find indie businesses in my corner of the OTP without a bit of travel. Anyways so the last two times I went to the particular ‘Bucks that I always go to, I have been the “every 50th customer.” This means I am eligible for TWO entries in the October drawing to win $1,000. I’m gonna give it a shot, you know? I figure this isn’t going to happen every day.

And by the way, I’m kicking myself for repeatedly ordering the Pumpkin Spice Latte, which cost me more than purchasing an actual pumpkin. It’s not unpleasant, but it bears resemblance to neither pumpkins nor spice. It is a fine and enjoyable latte, however. It’s a different story when tasting pumpkin beer, however. That stuff doesn’t sit well with me. The last time I tried some I thought it tasted vaguely like, um, “upchuck,” and I didn’t make it beyond a few sips. I’m tempted to give it another shot, but of course, that’s what I always say about the Pumpkin Spice Latte. My picks at Starbucks are straight-up cappuccino, the cinnamon dolce latte and the chai latte. Even then I have to be careful to just drink a little at a time and spread it out over a few hours to avoid getting an uncomfortable stomach-irritating caffeine rush, and you know, to make it last. I’ve tried non-dairy and that helps a lot, but the soy milk doesn’t touch real milk. If I want something a little lighter I’ll go for a green tea lemonade, lightly sweetened. Delish.


So… beyond that, I endorse Stephen Colbert for president. To be quite honest, he’s the only candidate I have any sort of affection or affinity for.

I should also recap my recent journey to Stone Mountain Park for the pumpkin festival (featuring pumpkins that are probably NOT picked directly from a local patch, but I can pretend, right?). It was good times, and it was a lot easier to get there than I expected. Admission to the park itself is free (although attractions are not) so it’s a nice place to go and chill. I’m definitely going to go back and try out ALL the rides if I possibly can. I love the little touristy village inside the park. It reminds me of a Cracker Barrel on a massive scale. (And Stone Mountain Village itself has a charming little Main Street). What kind of weirds me out is the carving on the side, which is of course the main attraction of the whole thing. It’s a monument to the Old South, and you see a lot of, I dunno, characters going to see it. Then there was the kid who asked me if I was “from around here” and the lack of transit in the direct vicinity of the park. For these and other reasons, what I’m getting at here is that I sense that the crowd at this park is more representative of the population outside the city than the people inside it. If you catch my drift. And then there was a bunch of guys who drove by me and yelled “Hey!” to scare me. They laughed when I jumped. I don’t know, it was kind of a strange atmosphere over there peoplewise. Still, an enjoyable time, and I’ll definitely go back.

What I really miss is Young’s Farm in Dewey, Arizona, which used to have the most awesome pumpkin festivals featuring pumpkins grown right on the farm (if I understand correctly). I know I went at least once with my roommate at the time, and I’m glad. That place was totally awesome, but sadly, the owners had to sell it out for some reason or another, and now they can build a subdivision there for heat-weary Phoenician escapees. And by the way…

Finally, I’m calling on all my readerses (I assume there’s at least a handful of you out there) to search for the term “adult balloon animals.” I’m currently the No. 5 result when you search for those words in Google, and the goal should be to become the No. 1 source of complete non-information on adult balloon animals. Together we can work together to make this happen.

Writing challenges and musical insecurity

6 10 2007

As you may or may not know, I want to write and I have ideas in my head, but I’m not sure how to get them on paper/computer, and I don’t know what’s the best way to proceed. As I see it, there are a number of questions you have to ask yourself when constructing a piece, and here is the list of things I’m asking myself:

  • Fact or fiction? In some ways, nonfiction is way more artistic because you can talk about something that really happened and find research sources. You spend more time crafting and perfecting your art. And fiction is way more limited, because in order to add reality to an invented scenario, you have to decide upon a “realistic enough” sort of scenario.
  • “Novel” ideas, anyone? With books having to compete with far more interactive kinds of media, is there a way for the ol’ tome to get in on the business? It’s my feeling that old-fashioned book reading could benefit from a little modernity, just enough to get people in on the game. Perhaps authors can start blogs and discussions and encourage people to share their perspectives and fan art. The fan art and fanfiction (and yes, slash) are seemingly a biproduct of this sort of need we have now to be participants in the media we consume.
  • Why create a standard text story in the first place? Maybe interactive storytelling is the way to go. Stories constructed from the start in an inherently interactive manner. Don’t ask me how that would get done, but I’ve done a little research into interactive narratives and perhaps that’s a good starting point. On the other hand, reading purists know (and I feel) that text has its own value; an intimate connection with the author as the words stream through your head in a sort of musical rhythm designed to dance through the verbal centers in your brain. The resulting imagery is often more powerful than any movie, and most people can attest to disappointment at the seeing a movie after reading an associated book. The trick is you, the reader, have to be of the right mindset to receive text. More and more, it’s getting hard for me to focus on something so old-fashioned as a book.
  • So you’ve decided you want to write a fiction book. How fictional should it be? Should it be set in a real place or a fictional location? How much should this place resemble real life?
  • Do you want to play it deadpan and straight, or do you want to have an element of humor mixed in?
  • How to narrate the story? Third-person narration feels safer because the narrator doesn’t have to have a stake in the story, but first-person narration can have its benefits. It depends on how involved the narrator should be. You can even have an omniscient narrator speaking in the first person about events happening to others. In any case, how reliable is this narrator going to be? The default typically is a “journalist narrator” who uses colorful commentary to describe the situation, but ultimately steps back and lets things unfold. Still, things could be done differently. A more unreliable narrator might choose to withhold information or give their opinions. In any case, it’s something to think about when constructing a story.
  • What’s the point of writing this? To have fun, make social commentary, address inner fears of the psyche or maybe do all of these and more? Maybe there’s something out there I can’t think of. In any case, it’s important to figure this stuff out.
  • Is there a workable storyline going on here? Is this a sustainable plot? Where is this going?
  • Has this same exact story been done BETTER by someone else?

I think that’s enough for now, but I’m working on some ideas. We’ll see.

Oh, and WordPress has added a tags feature (or else I’m blind to the fact that it was there before) so I can now add tags instead of relying only on categories. Now I’m wondering how exactly I’m going to use these in concert now, seeing as I’ve been applying a tag approach to my use of categories. Ah well.

Oh, and whilst at Borders today, I purchased four CDs. One of them was a Richard Marx CD (my first) and the others were from shall I say “cooler” artists. (Remember that “one of these things is not like the other” sketch from Sesame Street?) I was a little awkward about the Richard Marx disc and I put it near the bottom of the stack. I mean, I’m not such a wuss as to not buy the actual CD, but I’m still insecure enough to try to sandwich it between more socially acceptable items and pray to the deity of your choice that nobody says anything about it. So the Kevin Bacon-esque clerk chuckles a little and asks me straight out, “You a big fan of Richard Marx?” and I flatly denied it in the same way that I might flatly deny that I have some horrible disease, which was silly, but I did it. It turns out that *he* actually enjoyed it and I squashed him without really intending to, and I felt a little bad about it.

I’m going into this awful amount of detail about this extremely mundane event because music is such a personal and telling thing, but at the same time it means nothing at all. It’s a singular reflection of one aspect of our inner emotional state, and in some cases represents our fleeting emotional and social desires. Exposing your musical interests via playlist is a bit like opening up your soul to show who you are and maybe even who you wish you were. So, then, it’s not really in vogue to be emotionally vulnerable in this day and age. Sarcasm, stoicism and a stiff upper lip are common sights. For that reason, you (me, whatever) cringe at the thought of enjoying really emotional or cheesy things, until you reach a certain point that it’s so ridiculous that you can only celebrate it. I think that’s where I’m at now. And don’t get me wrong; maudlin, over-emotional and perhaps clingy people drive me up the wall. But sometimes it’s nice to indulge, and yet I feel very defensive at the store counter. So, everyone, the moral of this story is it’s time we embraced the Softer Side of Sears. And Richard Marx.

Growing up

29 09 2007

There came a turning point in my life when I realized I was growing up and there was no turning back. I used to wish that aliens from the planet Zeldar or some other thing from the infinite abyss of Outer Space would land on the earthly soil and jazz things up a little for the human population. As I got older, I started thinking, “You know, that sounds kinda dangerous.” And from then on, a full-scale extraterrestrial invasion wasn’t nearly so attractive to think about.

And now, I sit with my new Georgia driver’s license (transferred from Arizona) tucked safely in my wallet. I just got it today, and in record time thanks to the efficiency of the state’s “DDS” (not dentists) centers. Normally the DMV/MVD takes way way long, and you sit for extremely long periods of time moving your eyes between a scrap of paper printed with a cryptic letter and number and looking at the little LED signs above the booths that seem to hold the fate of the universe in their screens. You then let go for a while and listen to Robo-Woman of Doom announce the letters and numbers as you visually scan a room full of people who are scary as all heck and possibly are in there because of their vehicular violations. And then there’s the average folks and tons of teen drivers and their parents. (I did see an elderly lady come in that was hunched over and using a walker. She looked as if she could hardly direct her own body, much less a giant hunk of metal. I’m hoping she was accompanying someone else, but who knows.) So hurray for getting in and out of there in a half hour; they called my number so fast I barely got to finish my paperwork at each step before it was time to go on to the next one. And this is the South we’re talking about…

Now, sentimental sap that I am, I have strange feelings about my new card. The AZ license is gone now, and I’m glad I took a few pictures of it earlier before handing it over. It’s a marvel of beauty, with an image of the Grand Canyon in the background. I still have my learner’s permit with a hole punched in the top. But now I have a real license that reflects my current residence, and the picture actually resembles me this time. That’s a plus. Not that it’s currently much more than a piece of plastic at the moment, but it is now free of that pesky “UNDER 21, YOU GOON” notice that has dogged me for the last three over-21 years. And now, I can start moving forward with various plans that I’ve had in the wings for a while. More on that later.

I scream Sunday

17 09 2007

One of the joys of Sunday for me is working the early-morning shift, which inevitably is slow-going. Well not today. There was actual stuff going on, which was nice, I guess. I felt useful.

Anyway, on the way to work, I was  riding the TRAIN. (Come on ride the train, and ride it! Come on ride the train….) As per usual. But it was going really slow. Like 5 mph or something, it seemed. It took me an hour to get to Five Points (city center), which was absolutely Rick-diculous considering we weren’t even single-tracking. Man, oh man. It should only take 25-27 minutes on average. (Yes, I have it down to a science.)

And… I went to the mall in the evening and sat out on the patio to enjoy the nice weather, and then I went in and looked at clothing with alien motifs. Like, glittering colorful neon/gold-studded aliens that would make 50 Cent pause and sign up to go to a Star Trek convention. Yes, folks, aliens are *in* this fall fashion season.

In light of this, I thought I would write another bizarre poem:

Roswell’s just a few miles away
Roswell, Georgia, not New Mexico
So I don my alien apparel
And try not to go over a barrell
With extraterrestrial lexicon.

You probably saw me at the Dragon*Con,
Keeping one eye on the guy dressed for robotic cosplay
With a Macintosh cardboard-box codpiece on,
He put his geekish manhood on an LCD kind of display
But I was too busy listening to my old-school iPod Nano to stay.

Alas, it were that I had to board the train to nowhere in particular;
And I felt faster pumping through my heart’s ventricles
I was offered a free hug by a man covered in fake blood
And it was then that I understood
That my trips on the train were getting pretty spectacular.

Indeed, many a frustrating trip can inspire colorful vernacular
For while stuck in the train, we encounter an interesting population;
It’s a tough adjustment for those who prefer their interactions to be insular;
For you come into contact with every segment of societal persuasion.
You’ve got to factor the uniqueness of the experience into the overall equation.

Random stuff

16 09 2007

Boring weekend, moderately busy week at work. Lots of change is in the air.

Mom says she’s bought a hex bug that she wants to give to me. It’s essentially a ROBOTIC COCKROACH. Which is just what I need. I’ve killed a few roaches this week, as well as pantry beetles that have been spotted in here on a few occasions. I think I’ll like this high-tech bug thing. It just might help me bridge the gap between myself and my six-legged friends.

I am being informed that Equus is coming to NYC this year and it’s being suggested jokingly that I go. I can only giggle in response. (Actually I’ve already sort of unintentionally [meaning I didn’t exactly make a strong effort not to see them] seen pictures of the dreaded scene, so it’s probably all downhill from there. Is that too much information?)

Clones win! I find it amusing that the Register actually made a serious graphic diagram of the big last-minute play. I’m still waiting to hear about ASU’s game vs. San Diego State. Georgia Tech and the Braves both lost from what I’ve heard.

It’s nice and cool outside, about 60 degrees.  Winter is coming soon and fall is upon us. On one hand I’m happy and on the other hand I don’t like cold weather.