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Daddy has a tail.

Rrg. Sethra Lavode is out. And I don’t have it.

News. The QC position did not pan out. The tech writer position is still up in the air. Still. Update 04/08/04 And I mean STILL.

Chocolate. Ever have one of those moments when you have one last piece of chocolate on your desk that you’ve been saving? You walk away for a moment and come back: and it’s gone. You lick your lips and taste chocolate, so you know it was you that ate it, but you don’t remember having

Introspection. One of my favorite poems is “The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock” by TS Eliot. It’s about getting older and despair, but it’s done in such a witty way that you have problems believing that it could be all that bad. I feel like I’m starting to sound like Prufrock, not in detail

Books. Okay. After putting it off for a few years, I’ve finally started reading Dorothy Sayers. Maybe true bibliophiles will scoff at this, but reading her stuff gives me the pleasure of reading Sherlock Holmes combined with Jane Austin. Funny. Sayer’s biography sounds similar to Doyle’s in a few spots. Wrote things, didn’t become famous

Huzzah! I went to Scooby Doo 2. I laughed ’till I cried. Yeah, I can pick it apart; I can pick anything apart. I still laughed ’till I cried. Note on SMG: Yes, she’s a bitch. I like her. She’s a bitch.

Wow. petrichor (PET-ri-kuhr) noun The pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a dry spell. –via AWAD.

Good news, bad news. So the bad news is about $500 bucks plus a rental car for a number of days. And the good news is that it isn’t as bad as it could have been, or would have been a few days from now. We still have tranny. In other news, the bad news

I can hear a woodpecker outside the house. It sounds like someone snoring.