Mark Twain

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.


Dorothy Parker

Ducking for apples - change one letter and it's the story of my life.


Bertrand Russell

There is much pleasure to be gained from useless knowledge.

Things that make me cry


2004-01-14 at 10:33 p.m.

Ooh. When did I become such a sentimental old whore?

See, I was cleaning off my harddrive and I found these audio recordings I had done of Baby J one day on a whim and I made the mistake of listening to them, so right now, I'm kind of crying.

I miss the little shit. When did I become so squishy? I used to be such a curmudgen. I swear, kids and me, didn't mix. But then, one friend's accidental pregnancy and BOOM! Suddenly I'm on an estrogen rocket straight to hell.

Dammit all. But I do miss Baby J. She was so much fun to squeeze. Not in a "call the child welfare people right away!" sort of way, but in that giggly-two year old sort of way. And she was really starting to get interesting, what with her talking and understanding a lot more.

Oooh. Tearing up again. Think barf. Think poopie diapers, think pee on leg. Think screaming temper tantrums, think month old bottles under the bed, think of disappearing stuff...

Right. Sorry about that.

Oh hey, speaking of things that make me cry, guess what?

I took my car in today to get the oil changed and I asked the guys at the shop to take a look at the brakes because they'd been making this god-awful noise.

Well, $312.80 later, we all know that the god-awful noise was the metal part of my brakes that had worn through the pads steadily eating their way through my rotor cuff. Or something like that. I don't know much about cars.

What I do know is that having to replace brake pads and rotor cuffs or whatever the hell they're called with only 15,000 miles on a car is kinda naffy. A sort of should-be-covered-under-the-warranty kind of naffy.

Tragically, my lack of mechanic skills prevented me from noticing this earlier and getting it taken care of before the brake pads wore away, thus making it my fault and exempting Chevrolet from having to admit that their Chevy Malibus, according to my mechanic, "go through brake pads like they're going out of style."

Chevrolet wisely exploits this little known flaw by making Malibu break pads cost as much as one half of a pair of Manolo Blahniks. Bastards.

I had to call up my dad and beg for money as I was forced to spend my January rent on car repair. I ended up talking to my brother and, seeing no immediate solution, as my dad was out of the office and didn't really have much money to spare, my brother then decided to lend me some money.

Dear Baby Jesus. My 25 year old brother is lending me money. He's more tight fisted than Justin Timberlake. (That's a little pop-culture reference for those of you that care.) But the money came with a price. A lecture on fiscal responsibility.

MY BROTHER LECTURED ME ON FISCAL RESPONSIBILITY. MY BROTHER. THE BOY WHO, WHEN GIVEN A CHOICE BETWEEN BUYING ENOUGH FOOD TO LAST HIM A WEEK OR A COUPLE OF KEGS OF BEER, CHOSE THE BEER.

Sorry for yelling. I have officially hit rock bottom. Greetings from the deep.

I'm sorry, I just had to include this...it's from one of my class lectures...

"This decade marked the appearance of linked system protocol: Z39.50 which enabled early searching of online catalogs even BEFORE the Web!"

I'm not sure this is exciting enough to earn an exclamation mark, but then again, I'm not a full fledged librarian yet, maybe in another year, the idea of the Z39.50 linked system protocol will give me an orgasm.



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