The oblong blur came into focus. "Hey, dude," said Gregor. "#@$!%," said I, and grabbed a washcloth and aimed the flyswatter carefully. Gregor was not injured by the whack, of course, and scurried for the nearest corner. Fortunately, the "nearest corner" was of the wall and the shower, and the washcloth was applied with great vigor. I called for a trash can, and decided that I did not even want to bother seeing if the washcloth could be salvaged. I sprayed the nearest cleaner-of-convenience onto the spot on the wall.
Went and gave plasma after a bit. On Monday, one of the random donors said hello to me (greeting me as The Lady in Black) and said that it was good to see me back. Evidently my presence is distinctive? The waiting room was nearly empty, and I was in and out. My pulse was on the borderline -- Mountain Dew in my applesauce was a bad plan, but not utterly horrible.
After I was done, I took the money and the rolled pennies to the bank. I got some laundry-quarters, and got the pennies changed to a more convenient format. Hooray for pennies!
trystan_laryssa turned out to be out. Story of our lives, eh? Her schedule/life have been all EEERNT for the past couple months.
Then there was group, and it was good. The rest of the group noticed that one of the new people was going all good and was having a great time, but then went all whisperquiet and looked like she wouldn't be back. Myself, I think I know what the trigger event was, because I was a little eepish myself, but all's well that ends well. I hope she does come back.
Dinner was fun. Turns out Andrea knows who Miles is! Glee! Our darling waiter is a hair-geek, we decided, though he left before we could tell him that.
Still working through the shipment of trashy novels from easalle the one time. They're great for the plasma place -- I don't have to worry about the movie, I don't have to worry about picking a good book that I feel like re-reading, and I don't have to worry if I should accidentally (or not-so-accidentally) leave it there.
There's been a nice rousing discussion of http panties, and the other possible codes besides what ThinkGeek has to offer. 100 is nicely helpful for when one's partner is taking off one's clothes. 206 would be amusing for someone with MRKH and a sense of humor about it. 300 has potential. 304 needs context. 402 can be found on the corner by the phone. (Context on that one is elusive, but is contained in my journal sometime between 2001 and 2004.) 405 is amusing. 410 would do for someone formerly female. 412 is the case for !Darkside, in my case. 503 should be done in dark red-brown, for those who have problems with that.
Gemini (May 21-June 20)I thought the Shakespeare thing was common knowledge, because, OMG, those are commonly-used words ... right? Right??
Russ Kick searches for messy facts that lie half-hidden beneath the official versions of reality. In his two volumes entitled 50 Things You're Not Supposed to Know, he reveals, for example, that most corporations don't pay federal income taxes, George Washington embezzled government money, a third of all American homeless men are military veterans, and Shakespeare filled his plays with sexual references. Russ Kick is your role model, Gemini. May he inspire you to find out about at least three things you're not "supposed" to know. May you adopt his brazen approach as you breeze in to off-limits areas to get the scoop on tantalizing truths that have been missing in action.
Cancer (June 21-July 22)Hmmm.
Throughout history there have been secret schools that don't advertise their existence. To enroll, students must either be invited or else stumble on them by chance. In post-Renaissance Europe, for example, Rosicrucian mystery schools taught an esoteric form of Christianity at odds with the Church. Seventeenth-century English poet Andrew Marvell and his cohorts had their underground School of the Night, and ancient Greek poet Sappho stealthily gathered young women at her Moisopholon, "House of the Muses." In recent years the Sexy Bratty Genius School has periodically convened classes at 3 a.m. under a highway overpass in San Francisco. According to my reading of the current omens, Cancerian, you're close to making contact with a similar source of teaching. Whether you end up actually matriculating depends on how you answer the question, "Do you want to learn about things you've considered impossible?"