Diversions

How did I spend last night? Why, creating a WinXP virtual machine on my Macbook, watching Eureka, eating Kit Kats, and knitting, of course. Wasn't everyone?

No wonder I'm single. It's just easier that way.
 

Home again

In early September I moved the blog to Tumblr. I was certain the new and exciting Tumblr format would magically dissolve all my blogging blocks, much like each new and exciting Swiffer product will magically make me want to clean my house.

Yeah. It worked just about as well. Surprised?

So I'm back in my old, familiar Blogger home. I've moved most of the Tumblr posts (9/2 - 10/13) over here so you don't have to worry for a moment that you might have missed something, uh, interesting. I also turned comments back on. (I'm hoping the Mumbai escort services have forgotten about me.)

Unfortunately, my last Tumblr post still holds true, so here it is, slightly modified to fit the current venue:

I was afraid this would happen. I’ve hit the wall. I knew I had wa-a-ay too much energy after I got back from Boston, and I knew I would have to pay for that. And paying, I am.

I’m going to crawl into my burrow for awhile and, um, groom myself or something. Forecasts say it’ll be awhile before I am able to cough up anything new… aside from a random Facebook status update.

So keep the tender bits down and I’ll catch ya... eventually. I always do come back, eventually.

p.s. Oh, and you can breathe now. The rumbling from my Oct. 3rd post turned out to be just gas. I do still like the connection between blogging and IBS, though.
 

Star Trek Universe

Watching the first episode of Star Trek: Deep Space 9 from 1993. Just realized that the computer pads everyone is carrying look suspiciously like color Kindles.

Hmm…
 

She's gonna blow

I've decided that blogging is like having irritable bowel syndrome. Some posts are like explosive diarrhea: the pressure builds quickly until the moment you realize the shit is going to come out, ready or not, and it’s gonna have to go somewhere, regardless of quality.

Other posts start off normally enough, but something happens and the process s-l-o-w-s w-a-a-a-y d-o-w-n, causing it to gain mass and lose momentum until it culminates in a catastrophic event where the hard, dry, dense-as-a-collapsed-star turd must be birthed, even though you know it’s too big and will tear you asunder, or you will die.

We’ve known each other long enough that I feel comfortable sharing that there is blog post with the mass of a cantaloupe working its way through the pipes. No idea when it’s going to arrive, but you might want to don some protective gear.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
 

You may feel some discomfort

You’re going to want to eat as soon as possible, before it gets too sore.

— The orthodontist tech, after outfitting me with new wires approximately the diameter and flexibility of pencil lead.

The crypt-keeper

Lovely Daughter and I saw Freaky Friday the other day. As I watched the teen cavort and whine and snarl and generally act out in the mother’s body, I was somewhat mortified to realize that I act like that all the time. Being reminded that I resemble Jamie Lee Curtis didn’t exactly help my attempts at denial.

Who knew that anything featuring LiLo could be the source of such self-doubt?
 

Corn

Corn scares me. I like it to eat, but not to hang around in.

— Lovely Daughter, watching Harry and Ginny battle Helena Bonham Carter outside the Weasley mansion.

Today, I learned...

...that if you’re not looking, a chocolate glazed stick donut tastes just like its paler cousin. Comes in handy if they’re out of glazed stick donuts at 10pm. Which they usually are.
 

Lovely Daughter's big evening

With Bob the IV pole as chaperone, we casually strolled to the end of the ward, through the double doors, and over to the elevators. We scanned to be sure no one was watching, then punched the down button. When the door opened, we scooted inside, dragging Bob behind us. Rode down to the lobby, peeked out the door, then rode back up and strolled nonchalantly back to her room. We felt very wicked! Bob best keep his big yap shut, the snitch.
 

Reality bites

Is there anything sadder than sticking your hand in the bag only to find you’ve already eaten the last glazed munchkin?

I think not.