Archive for December, 2003

New years

Ah, it’s more official than ever. This morning the Boston guy called, and he says, “Where are you? Are you at the airport, can I pick you up?” I can’t ever tell if this guy’s being serious or not. But the executive summary of this story is that I’m wanted out there and pronto (by Jan. 3rd), so that he can get me all set up and working before he leaves on some longish trip. Arrrrrgh. Just when I meet cool non-dumbass people, too. But let’s worry about that later, nothing (fire, flood, or act of MIDE) is going to stop me from celebrating my last night in Chicago with a little New Years Par-Tay. KRISTOFF was able to stay ’til maybe 4-ish (far-away party engagements). So I got to be the world’s worst host for a day as I went to the bank, changed over my car title (ready to SELL that biatch! or give it away to someone I don’t like), etc.

The Doctor sounded like he had the most happenin’ plan, so I cordially invited myself there. T*, for some reason, actually wanted to hang out with me (ok, the Nando gang) over her own people, so I picked her up and brought her along. She got to meet and be frightened by the Great and Ever-Powerful Kristoff :-) Ah, so we started by (finally) seeing T3 end-to-end, well okay, not right away; we get about 1/3 into it and the Doctor family shoos everyone out ofthe house and leaves for several hours, what’s up with that? Kristoff had left already; so myself, T* and Dave come back to my house, Dave randomly ditches to hang out with his gf, so we decided we’d watch Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back. So my parents are sitting around in front of my nice bigscreen Trashin TV but not actually watching it, just kind of getting in the way. I subtly hint that this is not really the kind of movie they might appreciate (e.g. it has more fucks in it than a Delta Chi house, and centers mainly around bathroom/sex humor and drug usage), but they seemed to be adamant about seeing it anyway (maybe it’s the Tim + movie + girl thing), and apparently found it to be quite worthwhile entertainment. So Dave and fiancee reappear at my house and stay there, while T* and myself eventually return to the Doctor’s when he gets back from his dinner outing extravaganza. So, we watch the rest of T3 (after convincing Matt the obsessed freak that we don’t need to restart from the beginning), and then the deleted scenes, and the special features, and the director’s commentary, and…ya, getting a little excessive, so we (over Matt’s dead body) kill the T3 disc and try to find stuff to do. All of the Doctor’s party plans have fallen through, so we set out walking, then driving, then walking around the neighborhood listening for wild young-people parties (no dice). We ended up ringing in the new year in my rolling deathtrap, to the sound of a badly degrading exhaust system and more people squished into the backseat than it was really designed for. (Ya, sorry guys…and I hope y’all used deodorant). Then walking around the neighborhood again talking about all kinds of petty mischief we could get up to but didn’t. Eventually we got back and just started talking and stuff. Dave and almost-wifey showed up, and she flirted with pretty much everybody (except Dave, which must have infuriated him to no end), even the little Nando pervs, who spent the entire night trying to look up T*’s skirt. and succeeding, lucky bastards So at maybe 4-ish in the morning, we dropped off T* (who I was sure would get into all sorts of trouble, but luckily didn’t) and Dave’s gf; last, last goodbyes to these people I might not see for half a year. I wasn’t crying or anything, but damn…this all went so fast…

Sweet home

My good buddy from college, KRISTOFF, crazied on in this morning in his bright yellow fruitcakebeetle. We decided that, being one of my possibly last days in Chi-Town, we’d take the train downtown and spend the day bumming around. Armed with a trusty (or is that touristy?) street map, we went in search of a few cool shops we knew of, including music stores that actually sell decent music, and lots of it (not the Top 100 stuff you find at Best Buy). We didn’t walk in *too* many circles, only a few, but spent the better part of a day walking around in the beautiful downtown. I think I must’ve tripped over something along the way, since I developed a wow-I-think-I-tore-something pain somewhere in the top of my foot that didn’t go away for about 2 weeks, ruining my I-never-stay-injured-for-long record, and spent the rest of the day (and then some) stumping around like some old man. Finally, around maybe 9 or 10 we came back home, and stayed up crazy late watching cheezy horror flicks. Also heard some *interesting* news/gossip about a couple of our other mutual friends, which I’ll not go into here.

Little reminders

The first part of today involved picking up T* and taking her back to my house to hang out and meet my brother and some friends. So we hung out a bit at my house, and then went over to see The Dr. for a few hours. It was a good time. The whole time my brother’s fiancee was calling and leaving messages/text on his phone and the guys kept track of how many minutes between calls/messages, and he acted all pissed off in front of the guys (e.g. “why won’t that bitch leave me alone?”), while at the same time sending back all this lovey dovey stuff. We tried watching T3, we saw a bit of it but T* had to be home.

The second part of this day was somewhat less of a pleasure. When news of my Boston job opportunity got around, all of the sudden my ex-girlfriend starts writing to me and wants to see me again. I figured this kind of an odd (more than) coincidence, but agreed to meet her anyway–at the very least, I thought, I would get a few burning questions answered, or at least find out how and why the relationship failed so I could learn from any mistakes rather than repeat them. So, we would agree on a time and place, and she would agree on it and later come up with some excuse for why she couldn’t make it.

Then there was the phone thing. She called me randomly from her work to talk, so we talk for a while, then she puts me on hold for about 10 minutes, with the annoying on-hold music and everything. Then she comes back, and I say “hi again” or whatever, and click, I’m back on hold. This happens several times, until I decide I’ve had enough and hang up. I can just imagine this one doing it as an experiment, to see how much I would put up with (e.g. how much power she still held over me. lol) She did call back immediately after my hangup, and claim that some work was being done on the phone system that day, and all the lines were screwed up (which could have even been true, but I am long past the point of trusting this one ;-)

So, tonight was the night she actually showed up. The whole night she was all pretend-flirty and (as we watched a movie) close, maybe too close for people who have no further interest in one another. Strangely, I enjoyed this (having a semi-cute girl close and all) far less than I would expect myself to.


Ah…spent a good portion of today (yesterday) hanging with a couple friends at Ja*’s house, enjoying some yummy pizza. These are good times, I am going to miss them so much. At one point Ja* actually laughed Sierra Mist out his nose; at several others, Je* got us to (temporarily) lose our appetites with what can only be classified as Too-Much-Information stories.

Then, talking to people online again like always :)
I’m bored
me to
go find a midgit
find 2 midgets
and make them wrestle
why a midget?
b/c they funny
and small
and if they give you shit, you can step on them

Xmas in a nutshell

Today was our big Christmas dinner with my mom’s side of the family. To my shock and amazement, everyone stuck around after they were done scarfing floor-turkey (of course, we didn’t tell them they were eating floor-turkey…um, it was all washed off and stuff…I think…) and talked and stuff. My uncles and us young ‘uns got into a discussion of all the crazy, stupid, dangerous and illegal but very fun-sounding stuff they did in their younger years. I’m not repeating any of it here, due to the dangerous and illegal part (sorry folks).

Afterward, my aunt and uncle were having their own Christmas party with some people they know, so we had about 20 people crammed into this little condo all shooting the bull. Good times, even if I always come back reeking of 2nd-hand smoke.

Then I was online and talked to T* and F* (both of whom I should ask about using their names here :) and it sounds like the holiday blahness is not as localized as I thought. I talked to T* for a couple hours, and it sounds like she is having as rough a time with old-relationship retrospectives as I am having with everything else. I really hope she is feeling better; other than being there to listen and a shoulder to cry on (or in this case, a virtual one) there’s not much I can do for her; my cheer-people-up abilities are lacking, especially at the moment. (More like misery-loves-company abilities…) F* seemed in somewhat better spirits, given the nature and frequency of scatalogical references, and we talked for a bit about how I am planning to move all my stuff to Boston, and whether I’ll actually attempt to get there in my (but of course :).

Holiday bleh pt2

Ya, it’s the holidays, so my folks have gone raving psychotic. I awake to the sounds of them screaming and bitching at each other downstairs, which only happens just before Christmas (like clockwork) and to a lesser extent, Thanksgiving, especially if there are relatives coming over. How it works is that Party A gets worked up into a frenzy and goes homicidal nonlinear for reasons that are not entirely clear, but seem to involve the belief that the house and everything in it must be no less than perfect / spotless, and that any food prepared must be on par with that of a team of the finest gay French chefs. Which I can’t honestly say I see the point of, since it serves no other purpose than to show off to our relatives (guests) (who are less well-off, and anyway do not put on such pretenses when they have guests over) a false impression of how we really live, so that they can go back to their respective shitholes feeling extra good about themselves for the holidays. Nevermind the fact that the primary goal of our average relative will be to come over for a few hours to eat our food, shake a few hands and then scoot.

Parties B, C, and D can either try to help, in which case they’re bastards for getting in the way and doing everything wrong, or stay the hell out of the way, in which case they’re bastards for not helping. Either way, all parties get screamed at, which tends to encourage an avoidance response that ultimately more or less guarantees the latter. Party B bears the brunt of the hissy and thus may also be driven out of the linear region for short periods.

*That* sound was a cooked turkey being either dropped or thrown on the floor, and I’d really rather not know the details. Think I’ll continue hiding out.

I don’t like to say that I’d just like for all this holiday stuff to be over with, but on a brighter note, I can say (unlike many people that I know) that I live in a non-dysfunctional family 362 days a year.


Ah…project pimp-out-my-car-until-some-idiot-will-buy-it continues :-) Late last night, about a vanload of construction site dumpster wood and you know, since the dumpsters were probably too full to put anymore scrap in, the much-nicer wood leaned up against the dumpsters became aware of its true calling, which is to provide Phat Window-Rattling Bass Action powerful, precision sound to my rolling death trap powerful, precision automobile in the form of an shoddily expertly constructed subwoofer box. Why am I writing about this? Because nabbing free wood is fun, building all kinds of stuff (not just ghetto-blasting equipment…my east-coast bachelor pad will need a workbench, dammit!) from it is funner, and pissing off the rich people living near these pathetic mansion-factories It’s RACCOONS! Big, noisy raccoons with a VAN!…well, that just never stops being fun :-)

Holiday, bleh

Well, my walking papers just came. That is, the formal offer from the place in Boston that’s hiring me. Which I will take, because I’ve been out of school for a year looking for work, and dammit, I need a job. But until today it never really, truly sank in that within a few weeks I will be shipping off to a strange new town, not knowing a single person for 6 states in any direction. And it is really bothering me.

The holiday block is fast approaching, and I have no idea what I will do with my remaining days of freedom. I would like to spend as much time as possible with the people I know here, but they’re all mostly busy, and mostly morons at that, which gets annoying fast. As for New Years eve, forget about it, everyone (even the morons) has prior engagements except for one, who will just want to get drunk and be stupid. I’m not sure which would be worse, spending it home alone, or with that ex (haven’t asked what she’s got planned), or with a drunk guy shouting out ‘Balls!’ or another stupid thing every few minutes. Bleh.


Tonight, my bro came home all pissed off. He was in a car accident in Cicero with some lane-jumping punk, which hurt his girlfriend’s recently-operated-on knee and mashed up the front/side of his unghettomobile a bit. Also along for the ride were E (Eric) and terminator The Doctor yogurt boy Matt, and it was like 3am on a Monday, so we all decided to go out trashing. For the uninitiated, trashing refers to driving around the neighborhood on trash pick-up day (the ritzier the neighborhood, the better) watching the curb for discarded electronics, antiques, or whatever else your free-stuff-loving heart desires. It’s mostly an excuse to drive around with people, screw off and be stupid, but you can also pick up a lot of nice and surprisingly non-trashy stuff. Sadly, this week’s haul consisted of nothing but the trashy kind, such as a mono VCR (what’s up with that?) and weapons of mass destruction. What began as a simple trashing run went until about 6 in the morning (!) of just goofing off, and a good time was had by all.



So, a while back I was watching Blind Date (arrgh..TV…brain…melting). There was this guy, and this girl, and they obviously had some attraction, and things appeared to be going well. In the course of the typical smalltalk, they got on the subject of parties, and he told her about a time when he was at a drinking party and fell asleep / passed out on the floor, and when he awoke the next morning and peeled his face off the carpet, there were pube hairs from the carpet stuck to his cheek. From that moment forward, this chick completely froze him out for the entirety of their date. Granted, it’s not the best idea to tell a gross pube story on a first date, but still, jeez, ya gotta forgive sometime. This guy returned to his former charming (well, pre-pube-story) self and everything (until he had had enough of that ice-maiden routine, anyway :-) I don’t remember if he started being a dick by the end of it or not).

Somehow this got me thinking about the severity of typical goofs in e.g. a dating situation, and their recoverability. While it does bother me somewhat to know that for any goof < = maxgoof, there exists a specific sequence of actions or words that will cause the situation to be recovered, and for any goof > maxgoof no such sequence exists, knowing neither these recovery sequences nor the value of maxgoof bothers me infinitely more.

It should at least be understood that, as humans, it is our nature to fuck up. It should have to be a pretty severe fuckup (e.g. running someone over repeatedly with a truck) to be unrecoverable by any means.

(Resisting temptation to invoke controls theory…)

Xmas play

Oh yeah, and my brother’s Christmas play was today.

Antikythera Machine

Christmas dinner with the side of the family in Iowa. Actually, this is a loose approximation; it actually consisted of meeting for lunch at this diner, about half the group leaving directly afterward, and those of us that remained coming back to my uncle’s and watching a show on the History channel for a few hours. Not quite the canonical family Christmas gathering, but it WAS a damned good show.

Came home and finished playing with the sacrificial car stereo. Found out the voltage offset detected by my fancy (cheapo) test equipment was in fact caused by my fancy (cheapo) test equipment, and that it was in perfect operating condition as long as wasn’t actually being measured (or was being measured in a more creative way). Whoops! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some short-happy scope probes that need to be burned at the stake.

enum{out, stuff, people}

Ah, yes, now I remember why I don’t tell my folks what I’m doing when I go out. Believing the issue of where I was the day before to be satisfactorily resolved (“Where ya going?” “Out.” “What ya doing?” “Stuff.” “Who with?” “People.”), my old man comes out of the blue with something similar to (I forget the exact wording) : Strange that you would want to hang out with your cousin’s little friends. What are you hoping to accomplish there? (with implied wink-nudge-wink)

(Yes folks, if I leave the house it means that I am working my mojo. Nevermind the part about this dude being a DUDE and all; it’s these pesky little facts that really get in the way of good conclusion-jumping.)

As the aforementioned is but a single symptomatic comment in a long medical history of mistaken conclusions, ill-informed judgments and unsolicited advice, this entry could easily turn into a 10-page rant. And it probably will.

The pattern is very simple, and in fact can be expressed programmatically:

1) My eldest son is leaving the house.
2) Will he be with anyone that sounds, may be, or may become female during this excursion?
3a) (Yes) (For each her in list_of_hers) He is inseminating or attempting to inseminate her.
3b) (No) Better continue this script just in case.
4) Is she physically attractive, on the level of a supermodel?
5a) (Yes) Offer keys to Corvette and schedule emergency out-of-the-house time with the wife. END.
5b) (No) Warn against insemination of genetically-impure stock.
5c) Make disparaging comments about any potential insemination recipient (potentially female person).
5d) Actively discourage insemination opportunities with genetically-impure stock.
5e) Foist hot but not-interested girl you know on eldest son.
6) Lather, rinse, repeat.

I did once date this girl for a little while who was among the nicest, sweetest and generally most alive persons I have met, but was by most accounts physically unattractive. Man, the load of shit I got for that. This entry would go on all day if I let it, so I’ll instead close with this Reminder To Self: Reaffirm personal policy of not allowing female friends to come in contact with my old man, thus making them the target of unnecessary and misdirected scrutiny. Especially the ones I’m not fucking (which is, um, ALL of them).

The shivers x3

My afternoon began with my most favorite thing ever, a trip to the dentist! And I find out that after all these years of immaculate dental hygeine, I have a cavity. So I got drilled and filled and sent on my merry way with that strange sensation(?) of not being able to detect half of my face. Certainly an interesting feeling, but one that I happen not to like.

With the strong possibility of moving to Boston approaching, I have been making it my goal to hang out with everyone I know as much as possible. Tonight I was driving around with my cousin and her friend. Near her house is a subdivision where everybody goes (or went) absolutely crazy with Christmas lights and decorations. I remember being through there a couple years ago and coming out night-blind, but they seem to have gotten much more subdued, with a few exceptions. The most notable was this blinding house complete with a Noah’s Ark, a helicopter with rotating (sequentially-activated light strings) blades, lights and lights and lights suspended from fishing line, seeming to just float over the entire yard, and the house played MUSIC. Freaky, saccharine-sweet nondenominational holiday music, from a well-concealed bullhorn (well, sounded like one, anyway). What I was really hoping to see was the house with a Santa Claus in an electric chair hanging upside-down from a tree, with strobe light aimed at the noggin for that nifty zap-zap effect. Not to sound evil or anything, but seeing this display a couple years ago next to all the neighbors’ frilly holiday decorations was for some reason deeply amusing. Alas, no Santa execution display this year.

After that we followed some really bad directions that took us way the hell out of my know-where-I-am area (Ogden Ave headed in the general direction of Mexico) in search of more crazy lighting people, but didn’t find them–navigated back to my area by dead reckoning, greatly concerning my passengers who had even less idea where they were. You live, oh, about that direction (pointing to some trees), so we’ll try this street. Don’t worry folks, I know what I am doing.

Arriving safely back in my native habitat, we stopped at Burger king and had some grub, betting on whether we could get ourselves kicked out for some physics demonstrations involving Bernoulli’s principle and Coca-Cola. Afterward, what do ordinary citizens do late at night shortly before Christmas? Why, sneak into supposedly-haunted old graveyards of course. So, we spent an icy-cold hour or so in Bachelor’s Grove, shooting the BS in hushed voices and trying to scare each other. What gave ME the shivers, though, wasn’t just the cold or the graveyard, but this dude my cousin was with bragging about all these drugs he’s done, what he wants to do next, getting expelled for speed in school, and so forth. Not that it’s any of my business to begin with, but one can’t help but feel a little bit concerned.

After all this we ended up in some suburbs of Riverside. Not to disparage any city planners anywhere, but I don’t think the roads there are laid out with the intention of being driven on. They’re designed to increase the perceived size of the neighborhood, because you can drive for 3 hours in any combination of directions without actually getting out of the place. Furthermore, they probably spell out something naughty when viewed from the air :-)

QOTD: Well, if I were this guy, I’d come up and haunt you for assing on my gravestone.

Practicin’ my B&Es

Damn. Now that I have this journal-thingie I feel compelled to write in it, and stuff. I don’t remember what I did all afternoon, but evening-to-night I was testing out this old car CD deck I was going to install (you know, to double my car’s resale value and all). So I scoped it to see how much power it REALLY puts out (25 watts, my ass) and noticed it was putting out way-y-y too much DC for my and my speakers’ liking. (Hey, Tim, are the speakers SUPPOSED to smell like that? or have you taken a job transporting burnt fetuses?) So I spent the evening doing what any normal, everyday person would do and took it apart on my bed, scattering its guts far and wide like some kind of sadistic consumer-electronics cult ritual. The next couple hours consisted of tracing connections back from the output amplifiers to find out what the hell they are and (hopefully) which one had the fault on it, being simultaneously amused and saddened by its brain-dead design and cheap manufacture. (Resisting anti-consumerism old-man don’t-make-em-like-they-used-to rant…)

Then, being the sticktuitive person that I am, I got bored with that and decided to go online. This friend of mine was on and, AHEM, supposed to be doing her homework, but slackingmaking origami instead, so I went over to her house with the intention of helping on stats homework or at least holding her at chainsawpoint and enforcing a no-slacking order. I may as well use this stuff before I forget it (har har har), and if I’m going to geek out all night anyway, I’d much rather do it WITH someone.

Unfortuantely not much stats got done, as her room seems to be caught in, to paraphrase the Kentucky Fried Movie, a slacking force of extraordinary magnitude–and I seem to have forgotten pretty much everything I ever knew about statistics–and the book authors were on crack, and kept changing the terminology from one page to the next. (Granted, us EE folks are guilty of this from time to time, but always with good reason: we’re lazy, and imaginary numbers scare us. Why fiddle with that j-omega crap when we can just call it ‘s’, and forget all that icky complexity?) So ANYWAY, most of this time was in fact spent talking (whispering) a bit and admiring her artwork, and trying unsuccessfully to mentally disassemble this bendable paper lizard guy she made but swore she would never tell me how.

Now, for my adoring Internet public, I should probably qualify a few things. By ‘this friend of mine’ I mean someone I just recently met online, and her folks, and probably her other friends, don’t know of my existance. By ‘went over’ I mean crawled past the parentally-occupied front windows and neighbor’s motion-sensor light late at night and snuck in through the bedroom window, which is higher than I am tall and has nothing to grab onto except this aluminum non-load-bearing sill that, while she assures me that her, oh, 80-lb self has used without problems, my 150-lb self was a little less sure about :-) (Can you believe it? My first time sneaking into a house thru a window! After considerable difficulty in trying to boost myself through while not leaving telltale scuff marks all up the side of the house, I make an early New Year’s resolution to start working out more…)

Afterward, I came home and felt like I could use a big mug of tea, only to find that we’d had a water main break somewhere upstream of us and of course no water. (Hmm…broken water mains in Willow Springs? It must be winter or something.) So I just grabbed a bunch of Mountain Dew instead. The nerd stuff portal site known as Slashdot has been down for, like, a day or so, so the withdrawal symptoms are giving me the shakes :-) Maybe a little caffeine will calm my ner(d)ves. Or just keep me up all night, with not much to do except write in my text file….

QOTD: Double-deuce action!

Journal thingie

After making the snap decision to start maintaining a journal-thingy (well, non-snap, I did have a little inspiration :-) , I’ve decided that this text-file-on-my-desktop thing just won’t cut it. And I don’t trust those millions of free-online-journal sites with my ever-so-valuable Intellectual Property. (Business model, what’s that? Where’s my data, you going-out-of-business bastards! I WANT MY DATA!) Watch me over-engineer something completely excessive using PHP, mySQL and various other buzzwords. Mmm, full-grown relational database to handle what should should probably stay in a text file, yeah.

It will begin with an update-from-anywhere script to store my crap into a database on my server (yes, I have my own server. I am a nerd. Deal with it.)

From there I will probably decide there are entries I don’t want people to read. Or only certain people to read. Or entries certain people should NOT read. Or entries I fully intend for a certain person to read while under the impression that they shouldn’t be able to, but they’ve somehow managed to sneak a peek at it anyway. I’m sure there are instances where that would come in handy, but I can’t think of any specific examples off the top of my head. It might be useful for burning people who like to snoop. Speaking of which, I’ll be wanting records of when any known snoops are reading the damn thing. (e.g. we broke up a year ago, get out of my life already bee-yatch!) All of this calls for a completely over-the-top access-control and authentification scheme. Yeah, I know, authentification isn’t a word. Or is it? Well, it is now.

And since this will be an online thing, there is of course the issue of ‘why is this crap online?’ for millions of random internet people who don’t (and probably shouldn’t) give Shit One about it. Maybe I should make it so I can tag each entry with an attribute, e.g. “worth reading” vs. “meaningless minutae of my personal life”, so people don’t actually have to wade thru that stuff (who wants to read the day-to-day life history of a non-famous person they haven’t met?) Once I’m doing that, I may as well have a ‘Rant’ attribute as well, since I do a LOT of that, and there are people out there who love a good rant and will doubtless want to filter all non-rant entries.

Of course, some percentage of rants will involve cruddy companies and/or products, and I’ll likely end up getting sued or something. (Hey…you company snooping bastards HACKED INTO my personal over-engineered online diary? For Shame, I should sue…)

I’ll also want a way to backreference previous entries…wait…HTML, duh. And a comprehensive search feature. My own personal mini-Google for all the stuff of my past I can’t remember offhand. Like this guy, but without making me look like a cyborg. An actual Quote-Of-The-Day blank wouldn’t hurt, either.

Oooo…I’m all nerd-drooly at the thought of it. Why am I still writing in a text file?

QOTD: You mean you have to say UNO every damn time?


Last night I was talking with my cousin online, and she asked if any of my friends were on so she could fuck with them. Matt was on. So she messaged him out of the blue, asking me all sorts of personal questions about him, and used this information to play the role of a crazy stalker chick. He got soo scared! Then my brother came home, and since he knows pretty much everything there is to know about Matt, we got him in on it too. The ‘stalker’ knew what he named his car, his dick, his town, etc. his scars and where he got ’em, where he worked, where he was RIGHT NOW, his private number…. (teeheeheeheehee)

The dude was scared as all shit! Finally we let him in on it and explained everything, and he was no longer scared, but crazy hella mad as hell (redundant?). It turns out, unknown to us all, he had just recently gotten an actual restraining order against an actual stalker bitch! Explains the mad-as-hell-ness, I s’pose. Whoops.

QOTD: Do not meddle in the affairs of Dragons, for you are tasty and good with ketchup. (From someone’s newsgroup signature)


Once again, I make an investment of time that I know will never be returned. That gold-diggin ex of mine wrote me wanting to get together, and I wrote back. Why did I do this? By any sane cost-benefit analysis, I should have become oblivious to her existence in July or so–the action of responding is simply not justified. I tend to consider myself a logical person, which this behavior totally defies, yet I continue to do it. Why?

Easy Silence

Well, that’s a first for a while. Although I am all too familiar with the (brooding, judgmental) ‘uneasy silence’, before today, the concept of an ‘easy silence’ was fading into the blackness of my mind. I am more used to those who consider a transient lull in conversation to be a fault condition that must be remedied to prevent some as-yet-unspecified failure.

QOTD: I got directions off of Mapquest, but to actually follow them would require me to violate the laws of physics.