Archive for June, 2002

Found this over at Yami’s

Found this over at Yami’s blog, but apparently there may be a nuclear reactor at the center of the earth. Damn that’s crazy. I wonder how many different ways there are possible to exploit that as a weapon?

Got a new victory shag today. (I still haven’t searched for blogging-shag-watchers. I’m going to start a shaggers anonymous or something–I swear!) My own fantasies are like ripe plums, juicy and ready to spoil. The fact that I told a friend about my possible fantasy-come-true and haven’t heard from her since has me sort of eyeing my email with rather silly regularity this morning.

I have too much to do at work, and a weekend with far too much planned. There is a parade this evening that I’m planning on being in, and a parade on sunday I’m planning on watching. Tomorrow promises to be busy as well.

How’s that for a pathetic post.

I recently linked Cat and

I recently linked Cat and Girl from my Black and White Web site. I haven’t spent enough time lately working on my own websites. I’m thinking I’ll try and get some stuff done this weekend, like a redesign for B&W, (which it has needed for quite some time) and maybe those links on this here blog, yeah.

well, I’m back from vacation.

well, I’m back from vacation. (A few days wasn’t nearly long enough.) I walked out to the bridge over our slimey little river, and it’s about two feet higher than normal. A coworker and I saw some of the big fishies, and talked about how dust in your house is 70% dead skin. Next time I turn on the TV I’m going to call it the dead-skin-collector.

Lately I have been absolutely

Lately I have been absolutely plagued by pop songs stuck in my head. Some times it’s worse than others. Right now I have this abysmal song chanting up there like some kind of mantra. “Watch it spin arround till a beautiful oblivion…”

I just took a shower. Today was particularly satisfying. I’m not saying why. I want to tell laura why, but she’s not awake. I got an email today, and one of life’s particularly elusive fantasies has a chance of actually coming true. That’s all I’m going to say. You can email me if you want more details.

For some reason, in the shower, the title of one of those dumb bedside philosophy books just popped into my head. Don’t sweat the small stuff, and it’s all small stuff. Well, duh. But I was thinking about the times lately that laura has been angry with me for not telling her something I consider really small stuff. She just wants to know everything, and I don’t blame her. It occurs to me that as much as it’s all small stuff, it’s all big stuff too–and while I’m busy “not sweating it”, someone else may be busy drowning in the stuff. That’s why the title of the book, (and the whole philosophy) is fucking bogus. My small stuff may be helping little children die in South Africa.

On the other hand, it’s particularly satisfying to feel removed from things. To step back from reality and pretend it’s pretty much all unimportant in the long run. It’s not, but maybe–just for awhile–it’s ok if it is.

Today I am printing html

Today I am printing html emails. Yes. Printing.

I am a web production artist.

nuff said.

still no new victory shag. Either he’s waiting till Anna gets back in town, or his life is boring, or he’s been run down in the streets by women who just want a piece… I feel like one of those people who watch all the soap operas, and talk about the characters all the time like they’re real people. I wonder if there are other bloggers out there who post about his “exploits”. Maybe I’ll do some searching.

I’m taking a few vacation days. Tomorrow, monday and tuesday. So if there’s less posting, it’s because I’m at home relaxing, or maybe somewhere else partying.

The sci-fi author Jim Munroe’s

The sci-fi author Jim Munroe’s most recent novel contains various instances of product placement. He decided to send invoices to the companies he wrote about, and even followed up with some pretty damn hilarious “past due” letters. Here’s a couple of my favorite quotes:

“Let me clarify things for you, Steve. I am a science fiction author. This means I invent the future. SF writers wrote about rocketships – we got them. Cell phones – ta da. Tricorders from Star Trek are basically Palm Pilots. ”

“Maybe your accounting department is in the same country as many of your
clothing factories, and this accounts for the delay.”

I’m going to have to pick up one of his novels for sure.

On an unrelated note, dobbs (author of victoryshag–where’s the latest post?) and I have been discussing the nature of blogs vs real-tv. I just now decided in my last post that I think blogs deserve a new literary classification: Non-narrative non-fiction. (perhaps only new to me, I have no idea).

As for my narrative–tonight I get to go see the Flying Karamazov Brothers at the Guthrie!

I’ve got that new(ish) Elvis

I’ve got that new(ish) Elvis costello song stuck in my head, except it sounds like this:

Tear off your own thread!
Tear off your own thread!
It’s a blog revolution!!

I don’t know how that happened. I woke up with it.

I have nothing to say,

I have nothing to say, and I am saying it.

I guess I am desperate

I guess I am desperate for content. (I’m working on getting those links up, but I think I may have to re-design for them to work–they’re pushing my right nav-bar out, which makes things look funny with this jurry-rigged template.)

Anyway, here is another conversation ser and I had on friday:

  trophy-boy: how style-sheet-saavy are you?
  databl1p: pretty up “with it” if you know what I’m saying.
  databl1p: shoot..
  trophy-boy: =o
  trophy-boy: apart from just removing text decorations completely, how does one change the “underline” part of a text style?
  trophy-boy: is there a text-decoration-color tag?
  databl1p: interesting… I’m not sure.
  trophy-boy: dot dot dot
  trophy-boy: you are no longer my hero
  databl1p: hold your fucking horses.
  trophy-boy: NOW NOW NOW
  databl1p: the only thing I can think of is giving the paragraph a style with a bottom border … and you can specify the color of that border..
  trophy-boy: kk you are once again my hero
  trophy-boy: you can put the trophy back on your mantle.
  databl1p: my “mantle”?
  databl1p: your “trophy”?
  trophy-boy: your fireplace mantle thingie
  databl1p: my “fire” place?
  trophy-boy: yes
  trophy-boy: where you put your fire
  databl1p: where it’s “hot”!
  trophy-boy: yes, the sun rarely shines there, too.
  databl1p: IN HELL!!!!
  trophy-boy: and you should get the cause of the fire looked at
  databl1p: do you mean the burning sensation, because that didn’t happen until you put your “trophy” on my “mantle”.
  trophy-boy: well there is definitely not a problem with my trophy, if that’s what you’re suggesting
  trophy-boy: maybe you’ve been putting too many trophies on your mantle recently
  databl1p: Maybe your trophy has been on a few too many mantles!!!
  trophy-boy: ridiculous. i always am careful about what mantles my trophy is on
  trophy-boy: it’s not like i run around town putting my trophy on mantles
  databl1p: but do you generally use a doily?
  trophy-boy: i’m not into stuffed animals

Last night, while working on

Last night, while working on the code for Laura’s impending blog, I heard an obnoxious girl out the window. She was clinging to a boyfriend, posing for a very flustered looking camera man who urged them to stand still for 15 seconds. I assume he needed that to get the right exposure. Today’s VictoryShag was haunting. This guy has got to be a writer of some kind. I meant to emulate at least somewhat his post, but I’ve failed. I’m too in a hurry with this mortgage paperwork I need to get signed by my dad, and taking a “long” lunch.

I have really nothing to do at work anyway. Maybe I’ll write more when I get back.