(no subject)

Randomly out of the blue I got responses to my DC nerve post. Don't know what's up. Everyone's got friday off so they thought they'd live it up? Who can say. And one of the guys even sounds interesting (and another is 56, so he can just go bite himself). But it did remind me that i was going to fix a profile for up here so I can mock boys on a regular basis with no effort. So that's done.

There's an article in the New York Times about the bee keepers who lived down the road from us for years. What was really frightening was reading the line, "David, 32, their son," and realising how close to my age he really was those years he rode the school bus and I thought he was just about as old as they get.

And ohmigod, from the journalistic wonderland that is Shaken-but-not-Stirred, there's forthcoming Weetzie Bat book, with Weetzie all grown up. It's a non-YA novel as well. it sounds...well, I really want to love it, but I'm not seeing why it's going to be a non-ya from the two lines, which is probably the hazard of the two lines. Besides, Weetzie did grow up, just not all that up...

Work, as it always does, went from nearly nothing to a plethora. I now have in my list of to-do or should-do, stuff for Joe, two different projects for the first woman I worked for, a smaller project from another woman that's a continuation of stuff I did in the past few days, and the german book, which came back finally and is about twice as complicated as it should be, I'm telling you. So that's exciting and cool. And I realized today that above and beyond the fact that I think Joe is cool, I am *terrified* of messing up on his stuff. I have no cares at all about messing up other stuff, I'm just worried that he won't let me keep helping if I don't do it correctly.

The house is very hot. I'm hoping my room will be cooler, since there was a big thunderstorm already today. And I'm so tired my eyes keep drifting shut, so I'm off to bed. be good.

(no subject)

From my yahoo horoscope today:

Stop pretending that you're probably imagining this. You're not. That extra attention you've been receiving from someone who's not quite available just yet is legit. Think about your next move.

You know, there's plenty of people who wouldn't then have to wonder exactly *which* of the someones it was refering to. I suspect it's Andrea, but seeing as I foolishly passed up going to a psychic last week, I don't actually know if she loves me or not, so perhaps not.

I'm messing about in the itunes store, and I've been watching the videos they have. I just saw the one for The Scientist, and it puzzled me the whole way through, right up to the end, when I remembered that the chorus is, "Oh, take me back to the start," and we're watching this guy's day in reverse. So I was all sniffly for a minute. And I was also reminded of how much I like frock coats on guys.

And that's enough babbling for the momment.

(no subject)

My IM isn't working here, so no luck flirting with my coworkers. I miss my IM. It makes me happy when it works, even when I'm not flirting.

Instead I spent a couple hours moving html from a set of webpages into Dreamweaver and making it look pretty. Oh, how I hated that. But it was only 2 hours. Now I'm back to making edits on the tests I started out here working on. The proofreader they used is on crack, I think, since she insists on labeling every single thing that is different between the printouts and the screen, never mind that the only reason we have the printouts is because she can't very well write on the screen. gah. If every print out but one has an E in the top corner of the front page, *I* say they don't all need marked. Maybe that's just because I knew the person keying in the text edits wasn't an idiot, but i'm starting to think she is. We gave her the files that this had been built from, to check that we'd not introduced any errors? She went through and marked them up. Well, yeah, they're not the same as the webpages. They're not supposed to be. No one is planning on doing anything else with them ever again, I think, once these files are done. I have an urge to sic the ducks on her. She marks all those things, and then misses stuff like carryout as one word. Or corrects something one place, but not anywhere else. I *hate* inconsistency. I think I would be less annoyed by the fact that she's marking all those stupid thing if I felt she had a clue what she was doing otherwise, which I don't at the moment. Too many stupid mistakes for me to forgive.

And when I'm done with the text edits, there's a handful of graphic changes to be made.

But my radiostation is playing Beautiful Day. I am happy and calm.

(no subject)

If anyone happens to have spare money lying around, and doesn't know what beneficial charity to give it to, may I suggest the Mass Red Ribbon Ride, an aids charity ride that my brother will be participating in. (and if you just want to marvel at how little he looks like me, you can do that. This is the face of drthinky.blogspot.com, but he's a slacker when it comes to updating his journal. Kiwi, if you read this, you should read his roswell vacation write up.) He needs to bring in $2100 minimum, so every little bit helps. (I'll probably even scrounge up cash for him. I could give up all non-free chai...no, I'd miss my tea boy too much.)

(no subject)

I called my mom yesterday, and pretty much the first thing she said was, "*Do* you have sharks' teeth under your skin?" I blinked for a moment there, and then remembered that she'd been whining about not having read my story yet recently, and made me tell her *exactly* where the book was so she could read it. (She also just whined to me that I never ever told her about the stash of LCRW/Say... that I kept in a bookshelf there, despite the fact that I kept them in that bookcase specifically so she could read them if she wanted to, which she never did.

Chronicles of Riddick comes out tomorrow. I managed to not know this (but then again, I haven't even *seen* a preview for it) until sometime late this afternoon, whereupon I was forced to chant "Chronicles of Riddick" in the chatroom for quite some time. Office boy was leaving at the same time as me (I swear, it actually was a coincidence.) and I was bouncing about that, and the same boy who mocks me about liking fantasy really liked Pitch Black. hah! bitez-moi, garcon! I loffed pitch black, even when it was scary and I had to watch it from the kitchen.

Oh, and he's the same age as me. I was showing off some of my old coins (I always try to remember to check the dates when I get change, because sometimes you can find really old things. I have a wheat ear penny now, and I would have had a liberty dime if I'd ever picked it up before Airis got it.) and told him I had money that was older than him. He tried telling me I was older than him, but that's just because about half the time I tell people I'm 28. Yeah. I know. I'm not sure why either, I just do. I spent the last half of the year thinking I was "almost 27," and by the time my birthday came around I felt like it was 28.

Oh! So disappointed. I've missed my favorite fruit season: really really really green nectarines season. Well, actually, I have more chances, as the ones I tried today were california nectarines, so I just have to wait for local ones to become not-ripe. mmmm. Basically, by the time anyone else will eat them, they're too ripe for me. This is a side effect of working a produce stand for several summers. Not only am I spoiled for city fruit, but I got to eat everything at exactly the right time for my taste buds. mmmmm.

And I have to give up the computer, but according to the UPS website, my computer should be here tomorrow. Assuming everything works out properly. I have to go leave a note for margaret so someone is around to sign for it.