I really want to post something amusing and clever, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen. I’m just not feeling it.
Shoes
I never put my shoes on yesterday. I left the house in my slippers and carried my shoes to the car, where they remained until I got home.
Shoes, I believe, are highly overrated (unless you’re wearing a really cute outfit. Which I patently was not).
Music
I have rehearsal tonight. It’ll be fun once I get there, but I’m feeling oh-so-lazy right now about doing anything at all.
Geek
Alright, I hate all web-based RSS aggregators! None of them work. I’m currently using two, because neither actually gets all my feeds updated. Why is this? Anyone?
I want a new Pocket PC. Mine’s old, and full, and some of the buttons don’t work so well. Plus I want the latest opsys just ’cause.
I also think I wanna buy a used iPod and put Linux on it.
Finally, I can only make this layout render properly in IE if there are no images in the entries. This is entirely fucking stupid. Furthermore, in IE, some of the list tags are weirdly interpreted so there are random little bullets all over the sidebar. This makes me crazy and grumpy.
Alcoholism
Apparently I drink daily now. Apparently I stop at the bar after work every single night and have a cocktail. (Good thing I only work three days a week then, eh?) I did last night, and I’m certain I’ll be doing it again tonight. In fact, B. and I were making jokes yestereve about how we’re “getting in shape for the winter drinking season.”
Yup, that’s Iowa living for you.
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I’m with ya on the shoe thing. Except for the fact that my dog has a foot fetish and likes to chew on my little piggies. So, every morning I get up, put on my steel-toed slippers and kick the damn mutt.
Ok, he’s actually not a mutt.
Dog-kicking is the part of pet ownership that causes us to live longer, happier lives than those pet-free bastards. Everybody knows that. And for folks without dogs, there’s the throwing-the-cat stress release. So very important.
Cats *like* to be thrown!
Proof # 1: they land on their feet. They’re MADE for it.
Proof # 2: admittedly, this is more anecdotal, but I had a cat once who insisted on being thrown from a second story landing onto the couch in the living room below. I’m not kidding: he would stand at the top of the steps and yell at anyone going by–if he caught your eye, he’d wander over to the cat flinging spot, and bat at the bannister, yelling the whole time. He would sit there and wait for someone to pick him up, and then he would get REALLY out of control, yelling and batting at the air towards the couch, and the only thing that would shut him up would be to fling him onto the couch. If one tried to put him down, he would actually hiss and claw. He LIKED to be flung.
Cats are made for flinging. What else could they possibly be for?
See? Dogs are for kicking, cats are for throwing. We agree! Isn’t it wonderful!