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It was a long, stressful week, and I really didn't want to talk about most of it. The stuff that I would have talked about, I was too tired out from said long, stressful week to even attempt to discuss. I'm not pleased with how unhappy aspects of work are making me, and we've not quite worked out how to fix that problem. Until then, I'll probably continue to be stressy. Comedy club on Thursday, out to see Brandon's bands play on Friday and Saturday nights: all good things (particularly us all getting up and dancing to Silverhawk's last two songs on Saturday, which was highly entertaining), but I'm worried that they don't seem to have been good enough things to combat the upset parts.

The Fool, Jenya, and I went and looked at houses for a good three and a half hours. It was exhausting, all the houses we really wanted to see inside weren't open for showing, and all the ones that were open were wrong fr some reason or another (we're going to end up being picky, although I suppose we have time to be picky, as my lease isn't up until April). Afterwards, we got some food and then basically collapsed at our respective houses. I'm trying to tell myself that the small amount of housework I did, plus house-hunting, counts for my weekend's work, but I'm not really succeeding. I pretty much feel cranky, and depressed, and a variety of other terms for completely out of sorts.

Today, I very much felt the onset of fall and winter. And my mood has accordingly turned.

Last time I spent a fall and winter on my own, I survived, which is what I'm trying to remind myself, while forgetting a lot of time spent horribly depressed, crying, and walking intensely around public places as part of a war on me crying.

I may not really be succeeding at remembering the former part.



Science on Tap was a winner. New once-a-month activity nailed. Plus we met a cute Boeing girl with "multiple mechanical engineering degrees." She said she's been going for a couple months now. Next time, Jeff does the bulk of talking to her. With Bryce most of the way to a job (albeit not an aerospace one...), my interest in Boeing girls is much lessened.

Also, following up beer and SCIENCE with a trip to Luisa's was inspired genius. Luisa's name has changed a couple times over the years, but it was born in 1979, just a little before me, and is still serving the same ridiculously delicious food that my parents took me to eat when I had to be carried in on a shoulder. I think it's a good thing I don't live closer to it. TOO TEMPTING. It's all about the green salsa.



My Sunday was bracketed at both ends by cat piss. That was about as awesome as it sounds, which is to say, exactly not. Shortly after I woke up, I was stretched out in my comfy chair, dinking around on the seas of the internets, when Micah jumped up into my office closet. Before my disbelieving eyes, he started urinating into the box that's the current home of my CD collection. He's taken to occasionally peeing outside the box, which is frustrating, but I generally accept it as a symptom of his mild kidney problems, and most of the time, he's a dear and does it in the sink.

Not this time, though.

When I surveyed the scene, I choked. There was clear evidence that this was not the first time he'd chosen this particular spot; at some other point in, I'd guess, the last week, he'd gone for the other side. I started hauling out CDs, and discovered that a good seventy or so had been dripped upon or had sat in the puddle at the bottom of the box.


I got the gross ones quarantined, threw away (my favorite good packing) box, and then basically freaked out for about an hour. I'm very irrationally and emotionally attached to my physical CDs, which is why I continue to insist on buying them despite the fact that I generally rip them and listen to digital music only. It took me forever to start pulling apart cases and really inspecting the damage, and a few minutes after I started, I put my head down and freaked out some more. I can't properly how distressing it is to have things that I'm so fond of get so ruined. Thankfully, only two liner notes were totally hosed, but dozens and dozens more were on some level of gross from "slightly fragrant" to "nearly melted together." Jeff showed up a bit early to pick me up, so I had some help pulling cases apart, but I was in a pretty terrible mood by the time we left.

Which is why it is fucking awesome that where we were leaving to was going to see Jonathan Coulton at the Triple Door. I've never been to that place before, and it was retardedly sweet (food: not so much). I will very much try to see acts there again (but I don't think I'll order food); we were seated at the far side of the room, just about 5-10 feet from the stage. Excellent. Paul and Storm opened, and were mightily hilarious, with a particular high point of the Captain's Wife Lament, a sea shanty with piratical audience participation aplenty.



Coulton tickled me pink and sideways and full of glee. The man is a genius, pure and simple. I was introduced to him via his contribution to the 10 minute long Ze musical episode, but the internet knows him better as the brains behind the song Code Monkey (I'm partial to Mandelbrot Set myself). It was a very different way to see him than when he played at PAX... Re: Your Brains just can't be beat when there were thousands of groaning zombies present, but Mr. Fancy Pants, with the midi controller and the disco ball, really gave the smaller show a glorious edge. Not to mention the baby that started wailing quietly at the perfect moment during Creepy Doll. Or the fact that his encore was First of May (Jeff chairdanced in happiness).

So I was in a much better mood when we returned to the cleaning up the cat piss task five hours after we'd left off. Half the cases are in the dishwasher right now, the other half are in a plastic bin outside waiting their turn, and the damp liner notes are all carefully pressed in with paper towels to absorb as much junk as possible. A good quarter of my CD collection will from today on always smell a bit funky, but after laughing for three and a half hours straight, it's hard to mind as much about the whole thing as I did earlier. So thank you, to Paul and Storm and Jonathan, for making me not mind a cat urine catastrophe that much.



It really does have to be up there in the worst things in the world category: not only knowing exactly what the biggest mistake of your life was, but slowly coming to the realization that there really may be no way that you can ever rectify it.

Think   1 Thought


Annoying: how cold it is this week. Lengths of time taken to do stuff. Walking around way too much today on sprained ankle.

Awesome: comfy slippers. Sparks that indicate growing comprehension. Pho with Zach. Multiple positive S interactions.

See how I did that? Ending on positives!



Balsamic vinegar makes everything good. Particularly pork chops and onions and peppers. Particularly when allowed to cook altogether for quite a while and being finished with a bit of cool butter swirled in. Cooking nights with Jeff are pretty much my favorite. I just hope we can keep it that way (knock on wood).

Think   1 Thought



I just don't feel up to bitching about Dad and his mother, or saying more about 3:10 to Yuma than I quite liked it, or talking about rolling dice all day (although I do love rolling the dices!). So there.



A rollover a month and a half late is a rollover nonetheless.

I don't have much to say tonight, mostly because I'm a little tipsy and enjoying the glow of having spent the evening with an adorable geeky boy of my recent acquaintance who happens to share my love of Spire's Dark & Dry cider. But I figure that since I was thinking about it, I should go ahead and roll /tht/ over into a new month (or two) before bed, and return to utterly ignoring the general framework of the site as quickly as possible. You know, for the good of humanity. And the childrens. Can't forget them.



And thus, twenty eight orbits of the sun have been completed. Not a bad birthday (the triage team conspired to bring me cake!), and going out to see a show at the 5th Ave with my dear fool was definitely a good evening, but I'm left... unflated. Not deflated, as that would presume having been flated (after being inflated, hah!). I forgot about my birthday this year. Multiple times! To people who know me, this should come as a surprise, as I normally fucking love my birthday in an entirely uncool fashion. I'm not sure what happened this year, whether it's a fluke or a worrisome sign or a symptom of the generally crappy few weeks I've had lately or what.

Dinner at parental unit location tomorrow. I've demanded Bryce make me mashed potatoes. At least one thing will go right, damnit.



I had my daily, weekly, monthly, and possibly yearly dose of excitement on 520 this evening, as I was minding my own business, stuck in gridlock, rocking out to a remix of "Right Here Waiting for You" and scraping sticker goo off my windshield, when the truck next to me suddenly poofed giant stinky plumes of smoke from under the hood. The traffic ahead of me opened up by a car's width, and I lunged up and away into the empty space as the driver of the truck threw all his shit out the window and jumped into the road as sparks flew everywhere and gouts of flame erupted from the undercarriage.

Car fires are not allowed to happen right next to me, universe. I'll thank you to remember that next time.

The strangest part was that after the guy tossed all his crap out into the shoulder, he dove into the back of his truck and came up with a small fire extinguisher, with which he proceeded to attempt to quell the fire (while I was calling 911, along with, the operator informed me, about 15 bazillion people around me). My question: is it just considered good practice to keep a fire extinguisher in one's car? Or does this sort of thing happen all the time to that dude? In which case... good for being prepared, but sheeit, man, stop driving that damn car!



Normally, I'm not much of one for breakfast if I have to be the one to make it. But every now and then, it's undeniably awesome to fry up some bacon, brown some shallots in the bacon grease, scramble in eggs, garlic, cheese, and a tomato from my garden, and eat at my kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a nectarine from the local fruit stand. Awesome, I say.

(Several hours later)

Hoooooo boy. Let me tell you what will take the blush off of rocking the fuck out at a kickass Assemblage 23 show: getting walloped in the face by an asshat who can't keep his arms to himself. Cut my lip something fierce, and knocked my glasses clean off my face (I caught them as they flew, and the lenses stayed in place, thank christ). I haven't seen stars like that in a long while. Note to self: next time, remember to watch and maintain the at-least-one-person barrier between self and the people going utterly nuts. I stopped paying attention to that rule for one damn minute, and *BAM*. Proceed directly and bloody-faced to the bar for ice, sit down, do not pass Go. I made it back in for the last two songs, but man. Took the piss out of me, that did.

Other than that? Sweeeeeeeeeeet show. They played several of my faves, including Document, during which I totally exhausted myself leaping in the air and singing at the top of my lungs. It did remind me part of why I was loathe for so long to go to shows, though; my asthma being so out of control for a few years, I wasn't able to really enjoy rocking my socks off properly. Another testimonial for Singular, the wonder drug. Anyway, Jeffie and Brandon and Kim all came with, and good fucking times were had all around. YAY.

Also, I came home and my house still smelled like bacon. Awesome.



How cool must someone be to have their title be "Battlefield Archeologist"? Hooray, Nova, for having informed me of an entirely new rather sweet field of study.

In a completely hilarious psychic connection, Jeff and I both independently activated online dating profiles today. We decided it will be ultimately ridiculous if algorithms match us together. The conversation where we discovered our synchronicity was, of course, one of the ongoing entertaining bits about my current best friend being my latest ex-boyfriend.



I existed in a strange bus karma zone today. Heading into work unbearably early, buses were running fast and I got in 20 minutes earlier than planned. Coach bus into Seattle for company meeting, though, should have been a warning to me about how fate would smack me around, because it took three frigging hours. Trying to get home, I left Safeco at 4:50. I got home at 7:30. After waiting for an hour downtown for a 71, I took a 73 and began walking home from 15th. Halfway home, a 71 passed me. I cursed.

And then I finished walking home and I'm having a damn beer, thank you very much.

Apparently I r good resume polisher! Bryce was getting basically no bites on his resume whatsoever. And then in flies sister dear on Tuesday for two hours of intensive work, and he's apparently had 5 people contact him, 1 interview already, and another 2 scheduled (cracking knuckles). Awww jyeah. It's as if I went to school and got meself a communications degree or sumthin'!

It really was amazing how little his resume showed of how awesome The Fool is. Did you know that he worked for multiple quarters as a research assistant for a gravity telescope research group? That he built a sensor circuit to measure ambient infrared energy for high-altitude weather balloon data collection? That he built a functioning microcomputer from scratch and used raw machine code to program it to record and manipulate audio? That he developed LabVIEW applications to manage analog data acquisition? That he refurbished a half-century old vacuum chamber, including machining new parts and frankensteining on part of a particle collider, for use in experiments measuring the universal gravitation constant?

Let me tell you, until Tuesday night, you definitely would not have learned any of that from his resume. But now you would!

We also way beefed up the tech part of his resume to actually reflect the technology skills he developed and efficiency accomplishments he achieved over multiple years as one of the PC sysadmins at EPLT (and that's what all the inquiries have been the last few days). I still hold out hope that he'll get the science job I so want him to get, but man, I'm just happy I managed to help boost him into some damn interviews.



Three damn months back, I bitched and moaned about how getting RSS feeds working at work was way too fucking complimikated. I ended up getting that working, OH, ABOUT THREE MONTHS AGO. And it finally went live today (a day early!). And we're considered the agile team!

Anyway, even though it totally doesn't look like it, I put in a shitload of work on the Windows Help and How-To Community site for Japan. You should take a look. Gots to drive up that site traffic, yo!

Interesting that on my Mac, the feeds only actually show up about 50% of the time. Pfft. Macs. As if I should care about them. Sigh.



The Fool has officially widened his job search to tech jobs. He's a PC systems admin ninja, want him? I spent almost three hours with him totally rehashing his resumes; I still have hope that he'll find a good sciences/areospace position, but at this point, boy just needs a jobbie-job.



Is there much of a better way to cap off a day of errands, yardwork, and housework than by going and rocking out at a concert? I posit that there is not.

I had planned to cap off my day of LABOR by finally getting my PAX write-up groove on (I even have paragraphs planned, by gum!), but as chance would have it, I ended up going out to see The Octopus Project and Stereo Total instead. I consider it a much better use of my time. Particularly given that The Octopus Project's chick was rocking a motherfucking theramin for much of their set (the glee around me was palpable), and, while no means a rabid fan, I've liked Stereo Total for, shit, a good decade now. They played L'amour a Trois, so I was well pleased.

I'm bloody tired of this whole not going to live shows thing. Given that I'm gaming less these days, I hereby declare that I'm going to try to go to a show at least once every two weeks for the next few months. Even if I can't get anyone to go with me, damnit. Next thing on my calendar currently is Jonathan Coulton on the 23rd, but I feel as if I'm an enterprising individual and can make something happen between now and then.

In other music news, I was introduced to MC Frontalot via the KoL overlords sometime last year, and have been hooked utterly since seeing him live at PAX last weekend.

I mean, come on, he has a song about GETTING EATEN BY A GRUE. I bought his new album on that premise alone.

I love.

And perhaps anytime from now on that I can't think of anything to post, or perhaps even when I can, I'll just snag some lyrics from The Front (please envision an audience of a couple thousand singing this chorus at the top of their lungs, hands rocking in the air):

I hate your blog
It's incredibly
Terrible and bad



Holy shit I can't hear. Western Star and Silverhawk rocked my socks off tonight (Silverhawk much louder with the rocking). Nights like this, I just can't believe I don't go out to live music more often, so I'm glad Brandon being in a couple good bands is such a good excuse. And his GF was there tonight, so for once I didn't have to repeat that I'm not his girlfriend a hundred times. Heh.