I generally comb out the spitcurl before leaving for work.
I generally comb out the spitcurl before leaving for work.
Unhappy thoughts:
- A near-total lack of filing cabinets.
- Gearing up for summer reruns.
- Rotten veggies.
Happy thoughts:
- Doing a hard job well.
- The North/South trail where if flies over Alt. 19. I frigging love powering up the overpass.
- Certain episodes of Futurama.
I shoulda stayed embed (I can totally see myself hammering that line into the ground):
Do you support the gas tax holiday being pushed by Clinton and McCain?
No more than I support the economic stimulus package, which is to say, not at all.
The reason gas costs so much has nothing to do with the gas tax, and everything to do with the oil companies, which continue to post record profits. Not gross incomes. Profits. It's time to change, and the best way to get most of us, myself included, to support transportation options that are less harmful to the environment, is to put the cost of gas up out of reach.
The gas tax supports things like road repairs. It's just one of the reasons not *every* road in this country is a toll road, and it's one of the very, very few ways that projects like road repairs get funded. It needs to stay, because roads need to be built and maintained, and also because there's absolutely no guarantee whatsoever that the oil companies will drop the price. We could very, very easily end up paying the equivalent of the gas tax in straight profits.
]]>...but they seem comfortable.
For anyone with an interest in odd conversions, the foot of my bed is slightly larger than two dogs wide.
Saturday, I went for a bike ride with Mike. We were about ten miles from the house when he rolled over a staple, and flattened his tire.
Not a problem. I carry a spare tube.
So we fixed his tire and finished our ride. I bought a new spare tube on Tuesday, and Thursday night, we rode again.
...the tire slipped a little bit in my hand, and the pump ripped the brand-new valvestem out of the brand-new tube, making it completely fucking worthless.
Mike rode home and got his truck, I threw my bike in the back, and he gave me a lift home. But as soon as I think of something horrible enough, that little fucking pump is gonna PAY.
So I'm sitting at lunch, at my desk, watching Season One of How I Met Your Mother on DVD. The credits roll, and I see that, lo and behold, the episode featured guest star Susie Plakson, who I think is awesome and should call me when she's in town and all that.
So, yeah. Susie. In the credits. From awesome warrior woman (and, in a different role, spectacular redhead,) to the plainly dressed Minnesotan wife of Bill Faggerbakke, who was playing a middle-aged riff on his Coach character, "(allegedly) lovable dimwit assistant coach #2"
All, however, is not lost, as I learned some cool things while looking for a picture of her in her Plains State apron in her Midwestern perm (thankfully, I was not able to find one, which means we don't all have to look at it.) Did you know... (I didn't):
- She has recorded at least one Country music album
- She paints, sculpts, and pots?
- I knew she had played two different aliens on Star Trek. Turns out, she had roles as four different characters on three different series, only three of which required prosthetic foreheads.
Do not adjust your sets. The wall behind me is, in fact, mustard yellow (at least the good kind of mustard, and not that toxic French's crap.)
Lovin' it:
- Everything about my new desk/work area other than the chair.
- Leaving on time.
- A five-inch world globe (I swear I'm gonna cut it in half and store tiny bottles of booze inside.)
- Uphill climbs.
- Binder clips.
Hatin' on it:
- Staples.
- Uphill climbs.
- My desk chair.
- Nutrition bars.
- Tangled phone cords.
Embeddin' it:
What is your definition of cheating?
I had a big long thing here, and then I deleted it in favor of what I really want to say, which is this: cheating is always a second- or third-party activity. *I* don't cheat. I may not always consider myself bound by the same rules as the rest of the players, but I don't consider it cheating when I do. When I do it, it's a competitive advantage, or some other rationalization.
So I Wiktionary'ed the word, because I do that sometimes, and I found that it most generally means "deceptive behavior," which I guess is how you can cheat at cards and also at relationships, which was always a bit on the strange side to me. When you're generally cheating to win, doesn't that make your relationship a competition, which is a strange way to look at your partner? But if all "cheat" means is "be sneaky," then I suppose it makes sense.
To kick this off into the more esoteric territory, in any given situation, particularly competitive situations, why *shouldn't* we cheat? Swinging back around into the competitive advantage rationalization, why are we so caught up in being arbitrarily fair? If I have a resource or an opportunity that could help me 'win,' then why not use it? I tend not to, because it upsets people who aren't cheating, but where does it stop? Getting a copy of a final exam ahead of time is "cheating," but studying harder than other people isn't? in championship tennis, it's illegal to let your coach help you during a match, but totally okay to have better equipment than your opponent?
It's becoming increasingly obvious to me that I have no real idea of where this is going in my head, but the broad strokes are there.
Nicked this from Connie:
Your Personality at 35,000 Says... |
 Deep down, you prefer spending time alone to spending time with others. You enjoy thinking more than talking. You are good with your place in the world. You are confident and comfortable with who you are. Your gift is having a way with words. You know how to express yourself well. You are inspired by great thinkers and heroes. You find human accomplishment riveting. It's very easy for you to feel happy. You can find peace with any situation. |