See what happens when I don’t have internet access at work? Things in Ohio suddenly get very very quiet.
In my next life, I’ll feel guilty about that.
Part of the reason I’m doing the training I’m doing is that my current job just doesn’t fit me very well. I thought I needed a challenge. Of course, once I have a challenge, I bet I’ll turn into a whiner. Wait. That already happened. In 1973.
People keep coming to my blog looking for “easy ways to write sestinas” and “write an easy sonnet” and, my personal favorite, “surgery tips.”
Yes, in between my posts where I whine about sundries, I give people the keys to sestina writing and hysterectomies. But don’t confuse the two. Severe intoxication works wonders for the former, but can only lead to tears and male hysterectomies for the latter.
There are few sounds more disconcerting than to hear your hard drive simply spool down to complete silence. Ask me how I know!
In any case, my computer at work has now been upgraded to something made in the 21st century. And no, I’m not exaggerating.
Massive computer fu.
All is lost. All emails. All bookmarks. All cookies. All history. All programs. Pow.
Go ahead, Argentina. Cry for me!
On the right side of my page, there’s a list that shows where the people who read this blog are coming from. Please click on some of those fine folks’ blogs if you have the opportunity.
What’s weird is that I go to a number of blogs with similar lists, and I don’t show up. I click in vain. Do I have blogcooties? Am I shunned? It’s taken three months for me to realize that I’m missing. Click. Click.
And now I’m just whiny. Bastards!
Go here and laugh.
Ignore me. I’ll be better tomorrow. Still bitter and sniveling, but now with more fiber.
Now I’m just peeved.
The day started really well. There was good news on a couple of fronts. Steve’s wrist is healing (finally). The sun was shining. The cat Isaac jumped off the bed before coughing up a hairball. These are glad tidings indeed.
And then kerblooie.
This is only marginally to do with the immense sucking sound radiating from Jacobs Field, though I might need earplugs to finish out this homestand.
Got my final back and have an A for the first module. Surely, in some universe, that counts for something.
Is this the post-NaPo (and birthday) blues or something bigger? Poetry seems so vain to me right now, in all the meanings of the word. So conceited, so shallow, so worthless.
And there’s a boat tied to my Jeep and I don’t like it.
Stephen Colbert might have garnered more sympathy for Bush than laughs at the event, but I think the man definitely has nerves of steel.
Lots of people are talking about it, but Scoplaw’s got links.
I would never have heard of this story were it not for the wonderful world of blogs. It’s good to be on the internets!