So, I started a webring. I feel like I should go to an Internet Users Anonymous meeting. You can join from here. I wish that you would since I’m the only member right now. It’s kind of sad at the beginning.
disclaimer: this is not something that moms or family members want to read. So I’m at the bar last night, enjoying my time. Kurt got done early because Liz needed some hours. He’s sitting at the bar, chatting with a couple that we met at Dave and Mary’s “wedding party” about a month before Kurt and I got hitched. So, I know them what, 5 minutes? Anyhow, it’s almost time to go, so I go get Kurt. The second I arrive the couple (both!) turn to me and say, “Are you going to have kids?” Dammit! Who the f*ck are you? Why do I want to discuss /any/ of my future intentions with you, let alone my desire to have or not to have children? And why, all of a sudden in this age of single-mothers, does a marriage automatically mean children are right around the corner? Do you think before you talk? What if I’ve gone through a horrible disease and am not able to have children and do not want you asking me? What if Kurt is sterile and this is a sore topic? (none of the aforementioned is true, by the way) What if I just don’t know and I don’t want to talk to you about it? How do I say, “That is none of your business.” without sounding like a jacka*s? So here’s what happened. I said (my standard answer), “I don’t like kids.” *Immediately*, the male of the couple (whom I know has 2 teenagers), says, “Kids are awesome! I love them.. blahblahblahblah!” and the woman (not the mother of the teenagers), “Good for you! Kids are terrible. I have to deal with two teenagers every day! Blahblahblahblah!” This ensued for about 5 minutes when I finally said, “I’m going to go over there and sit down and not talk about children.” Why? That’s all I really want to know. I’m adding, to my list, children as one of the top four things you do not discuss with someone that you barely know. The other three are religion, politics, and abortion.
Ohmigod! Dinner at Harvest was the most fantastic meal I’ve ever eaten. Thanks to Bob’s suggestion, Kurt and I went there last night to celebrate our one-month anniversary of marriage. I don’t want to spend too much time explaining things here, because there will be a review up before the weekend is over. Awesome. That’s all I can say.
Holy crap, _now_ I have something to do at work tomorrow. This site looks totally fun. I am such a sucker for tutorials.
Though Kurt knows I don’t really care for movies, he suggested going out to see one last night. By the time I got home from work, I was completely exhausted so I tried to take a nap. I was wakened by the sound of banging dishes. He thought I was in the computer room, as opposed to sliding slowly (but not painlessly!) into dreamland. We decide to rent movies and get a pizza. It’s Trivia Tuesday down at Bongo Video. This means you get a free non-new-release if you answer a random trivia question correctly. I stayed home to wait for the food and Kurt went to get the movies. He brings back Shrek, The Salton Sea, and My First Mister. Knowing that he could watch whatever he wanted after I went to bed, we popped in My First Mister. This movie is possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen, aside from Zoolander. Poor (sad, not lacking in monitary status), spiteful, gothic girl with piercings and tattoos sheds her hardware (a little too quickly) to get a job at some men’s clothing mall-store. Her boss, who took kindly to her (also a bit quickly), is an anal-retentive magazine-addicted loner. They make friends. She falls in love with him (red light! red light! she’s 17, he’s 48? (my stomach is turning.) He passes out while jogging. We turn the DVD off. It’s probably the first time I’ve actively stopped watching a movie with no intention of ever seeing the end. As you can see, I /do not/ recommend it.
Again with the waking up at all hours. I guess when I’m tired at 10:30 I should tape my eyes open and stay up til midnight. This sure makes for a difficult time rolling my as* out of bed when the alarm goes off in 3. On another note: I need to find a small, interesting, freelance web job. For something to do. I love work and stuff, but I have consciously removed myself from most design responsibilities. I can’t do it there. There are too many big noses and opinions, and too much statistical data backing up the marketing. It has become so that it doesn’t seem interesting enough. Maybe it’s just me, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t do a little on the side. :)
I’m no longer a moron. I sacrificed a little flexibility to get my archive looking right. But damn if relative style sheets will be the death of me.
Unless you’re over 60, no one should be. I got home from hanging out with Kelli, Adam and Joan at 1:15 and immediately fell into bed. I woke up just now with my nose and toes almost frozen off. Which means our furnace just got turned back on for the winter. It smells kind of “old”. But it sucks because the thermostat is in the living room (which is the sunniest and warm room in the house) leaving the bedrooms and bathroom to be continuously cold. And another thing. If you work 3rd shift and live on the first floor under someone who probably doesn’t, (you know this because you’ve lived here for over a year) don’t play your f*cking music so loud at 5:30a. I can’t sleep in my bed because I don’t share the same schedule with aforementioned neighbor. I can’t sleep in Kurt’s bed cuz his room is an ice cube and I can’t sleep on the couch because there’s a Kurt there.
Only after an hour or so of set-up and config, Moveable Type is powering this here baby. Have I mentioned that I desperately need some girl scouts to come over and wash my car for $5? It’s filthy, inside and out. George came over and we got the A/C out of the window. We won’t be using it again next year cuz it’s old and not energy-efficient. It’s sitting up in the attic if any big strong boys want to come over and take it. Free.