October 14th, 2003

running, bomb tech

I am the Bush Robot. I like Gore.

I am the Bush Robot. Bush is Evil. Let me give you Gore.
I am the Gore Robot. Gore is Evil. Let me give you Bush.

I am the Bush Robot. Give me your marriage. It will be Protected.

I really am too silly at this hour of the night.
running, bomb tech

Occasionally, I post chat logs of Chats with Morons.

This is why I tend to make my chat logs with morons friends-only, and not public, even if some of them really ought to be shared with a wider audience.

cheekyweebisom has turned off e-mail comment delivery for the duration of the war, and is just sitting back and watching it happen.

I can't read too much of that; it makes my brain hurt from translating.
running, bomb tech

That thing, with the people

Have you ever thought about characters from a thing (movie, show, book, whatever) and then mentally substituted another person of the same name as one of the characters from somewhere else?

And then had a brain-breaky?

Also good is when you substitute another role of the same actor's.

Will, from Will & Grace, would probably have a rough time of it in PotC.
running, bomb tech


Dear Puss,

It tickles horribly when you lick my sock, even if I have provoked you by dripping garlic butter on it. Also, I'm aware that I'm eating my rolls smothered in garlic butter from one of "your" saucers -- those saucers, my fine-feathered friend, do not necessarily mean that the contents are belong to you.

I'm glad you do appreciate good cooking, though.

documentation, writing, quill


"A mobile telephone is the only object on Earth which can cause grown men to gather in a group and brag about who has the smallest." --spoiler space in the e-mail version of lmbujold, posted by the inimitable James Bryant
running, bomb tech

Spawn of the Crush Meme

For the record, I did the original crush meme.

And yes, I put down a lot of people as "secret crush", because, honestly, this is what happens with many friends.

The usual procedure, in fact, when I meet a new potential friend, involves getting a mild crush on them. Some times it's worse than others. I got an immediate crush on votania, actually, but that got way canned when it wound up that she was not only straight, but a little bit homophobic to boot. (She got better.) The immediate crush I got on Darkside faded out naturally, but then got revived bigger and "better" than before, "thanks" to ... someone of Shrimpy's given name. (It was a royal nuisance at the time; it's since become livable.)

Some people, I don't start out crushing on, but get a bit of a crush as I get to know them better. Some people, I start out crushing on, and either it gets put in the background, fades utterly... or develops into something more serious.

Four people have Secret Crushes on me, who did the meme. One ex-crush.
running, bomb tech

Justice, She is present.

So, Little Fayoumis grabbed his book and scampered off to bed. marxdarx called him back, and lectured him on running inside (something that I allow, within reason, and he does not at all).

Marx cautioned our little angel that if he did not watch where he was going, he could bang into things and get hurt. (I view a certain amount of bumps, bruises, and things crashed into as the normal things of childhood, and better that he should run inside, within certain guidelines, than not get to run at all. We have no backyard.)

Little Fayoumis got up and walked sedately from the room.

marxdarx got up, and, not quite watching where his foot was, banged it painfully into the coffee table.

I almost managed to contain it. It was contained, but I'm sure a little slipped out around the cracks in my tone of voice, when he said, "Not. A. Word." and I replied, "A word."
running, bomb tech

Space travel makes me tear up.

China has an astronaut now.

Thanks to kimberlyonline for the link.

Mama used to read me the cool books from National Geographic. There was one great one about going to the moon. On the back was the path that the astronauts took, and where everything went and dropped off, with little arrows. I sat and traced that path with my finger more times than I can count. It was in the cabin, on the orange couch.

When I was six or seven, I was at Grandma's house. I remember I was on vacation, spending two weeks there. I loved the tangerine tree, and GrandfatherSir had quail.

One day, all the grown-ups were watching TV. I came in, and there was a funny-shaped cloud on the screen and everyone was crying. Mama or FatherSir said that they were trying to prove that it was safe for everyone, and there had been a teacher in there.

Science fiction has been a certainty for me, not really speculation. Science fiction is dreaming where we'll go next, not something fantastical that can never happen. I've resigned myself that my heart probably won't stand for takeoff by the time I have relatives to visit on the moon.
running, bomb tech

Speaking of bad jobs...

I would really hate to have any of these four jobs.

I'm also going to apply at the movie theatre. Probably, get an app, fill it out, and then sign it, date it, and turn it in on the day I get back.

Someone else needs a job around here, unless I could <ha-ha only serious> just stick a PayPal button on my userinfo page and make a living, say $500/month, writing. </ha-ha only serious>
running, bomb tech

Yes, we have just learned (again) how to make mind and mouth and body happy...

Hot rolls, drenched with that good garlic butter sauce.
Cold roasted chicken, the sort that's roasted oil-free with spices and a little water so the pan doesn't combust, and furthermore roasted until it is not only cooked, but dead, so that there is nothing raw left, not even anything barely pink, and the bird is starting to dry out.
Cold, clear water.

My body's been craving protein, and there hasn't been enough around. Mmmm. This is good.