I’d forgotten how much I really liked High Fidelity…
“More uncut Godfather coming up on the new TNN.”
I have neither a forsekin fetish nor a daddy fetish, but it still got my attention…
There’s been no internet access at work for two days now. This has significantly affected both my ability to do my job and my occasional need to avoid doing it for a while. Business has suffered considerably as well, but I guess it’s par for the course within a company which promotes its “high-tech” image, but still can’t manage to pay its newest recruits enough to attract any who know the difference between a computer, a hard drive, and an operating system…
I don’t care really, as long as I can start checking my email at work again soon…
Oh good God (link via Jonno). Get the fuck over yourselves, people. Some people take this whole blog/web journal thing WAY too seriously. It’s a hobby, ferchrissakes, not brain surgery…
In the “too much information” department, my sex drive seems to have gone into hyper-drive for the past eight days or so, despite a weekend with the most wonderful boy in the world. I’m gonna go eat some graham crackers now to keep my hands busy…
This may have been the fastest weekend on record; it seems like about eight hours passed between the time I was drving down to Fresno on Friday and the time I was driving back today. I didn’t want to come back. Not just because I didn’t want to leave Mark (although that was a big chunk of it) but because I didn’t want to be back in this damned city, I didn’t want to think about going to the soul-sucking part-time job tomorrow, and I didn’t want to continue wondering if my computer monitor is about to die…
But it was a good weekend. Aside from the, ummm, obvious, there were really good thrift store finds and good food, and the weather was even largely cooperative. Who’d have thought I’d be so excited about highs which “only” reached the low 80s?
This whole commute thing should be over in a couple of months and I’m really looking forward to it. I just hope I don’t lose the edge and street cred I have through knowing exactly what fast food and gas options are available at every exit on Highway 99 between Manteca and Selma…
Attitude suitably adjusted, I’m on my way as soon as I hit the shower. I’m not going to let a funk spoil anything I’ve been waiting two extremely long weeks for. See you in five hours, baby…
I’m a little cranky and irritable, and in an all-around less than stellar mood. Here’s hoping the weekend will make it much better; I hate forcing my moods on someone else…
I’m hoping that the fog will have returned with a vengeance by the time I return on Sunday. I’ve said it before, and it’s that time of year again. Sunshine depresses me, and there’s been too damned much of it in SF this week. I do not like tanning, nor frolicking in the sun, nor the way it looks and feels when it sneaks in through my blinds. It thrusts me into some of my foulest moods. About the only time I really like the sunshine is when I’m driving or taking pictures. Yes, I understand that I am a freak. And no, I don’t care. So there…
As it happens, there were no real radical changes from Wednesday’s much less foul mood, I did consolidate and streamline some stuff over at Planet SOMA. It might not be all that noticeable, but I’m still working on it. After which, it still might not be all that noticeable…
I’m in one of those moods today. Not at all a bad mood, mind you. Just one of those moods which dictates that — before I go to bed tonight — one of my sites will go through a semi-major change or I will have even less hair on my head than usual…
Or maybe I’ll do something REALLY radical. Like washing the dishes and mopping the kitchen floor (for all the good the latter ever does)…
I’ll keep you posted…
So I’m scouring craigslist for job openings and I see a posting for a position as a “domestic violence facilitator”. Does that strike anyone else as a rather odd position title? I should think there would be more of a market for people who IMPEDE domestic violence rather than facilitate it…
I haven’t had a self-indulgent front page photo in a while, so here’s a new one. I actually like this one; Sarah always manages to take pictures of me which make me look less fat. What a wonderful talent…
Anyway, if you want a bigger version, so I can be your desktop or your dart board (or even better, so you can paste my head on a much more attractive naked body), let me know. If you try hard enough, you can even crop me out completely and wind up with a really nice shot of Oakland’s old Emporium and I. Magnin stores and the Paramount Theatre marquee…
Stupid teenager on Cops: he thinks if he tells them he’ll commit suicide if he goes to jail that they’ll just skip it. He doesn’t realize that statement will only get him thrown into a tiny “suicide watch” cell, butt-ass naked lest he strangle himself with his clothing. Which might be a more appealing image (the naked part, that is) if he weren’t such a scuzbag…
Hmmm. I used the word “naked” in two consecutive paragraphs. That should help with the search engine referrals. It also suggests that I need a conjugal visit very badly…