Latte and a maid. Anyone can do half the job, LJ. Now swing by the costume store on the way home (word of advice - get the coffee first) and take care of bidness. http://www.cellar.org/images/smilies/3eyedsmiley.gif

I'm still wondering what possessed me to continue cleaning gutters when I'd already found a yellowjacket nest. Then two. Then THREE! I now count [the_count] one! two! three! four! FOUR WONDERFUL BEE STINGS! ah ah ah ah! [/the_count]

He has bees living in his yellow jacket nests? Maybe they're nest-sitting while the yellow jackets are on vacation.

Beestie, I don't know that I'm all that comfortable with you picturing me in a French Maids outfit. In fact my skin just crawled right off my body. what a mess!

I was in supress visual mode, myself. http://www.cellar.org/images/smilies/eek.gif

I have a french maid's outfit.

BoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBored
BoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBored

No unnecessary restraints, no unnecessary shock therapy, not enough medication.

bored...

I wonder if ts knows he screwed up the page layout.

Looks fine on my screen, I even clipped it in case it would stretch too far.

1024 full width and I've for a fair size scrollbar, we don't all have the luxury of 1200x1600 :P.

I'm thinking about having to go through three and a half hours of neuropsych testing this afternoon. Exhausting! Endless sequences of little triangles and squares and rectangles - worse than constructing models of isomers for organic chem class. And these stupid little cards that tell stories in pictures that you have to put in sequence. I think I'll make all my stories go backwards this afternoon just to see the look on the good doctor's face. I'm thinking of getting in touch with Aunt Elsa (it's been a while, and I might need a safe place to stay after next November). I'm thinking of an isolated stretch of the Colorado River that I discovered where huge fish can be heard jumping out of the water all night long and how nice it would be to go down there with a sleeping roll, a fishing pole, and a few good books and just vanishing for a few days. I'm thinking about how Mike the muscian is going to be gone up in Aspen for his masters class in classical guitar, and I'm really going to miss him while he's gone. I'm thinking about how much I miss getting to go into a library to work. I wonder if those stupid squares and rectangles will help me do that again someday...

This coffee is good. I started the pot just before I got in this morning, and I actually go to have a cup of it before it disappeared, and some idiot leaves the empty carafe on the hotplate. I'm enjoying the scene out the bank of windows that allows me a view of 2nd street. The pavement slowly rises over a quarter of a mile up to Pike Place. Pike place is actually on first, but if you walked up to where my view ends, you'd see Pike place. Mmm! Gyros...

He's talking Pike Place (Market) - in downtown Seattle. Pugetopolis == Puget Sound.

We used to live there a while back. Going back this summer to show the kids where they were born.

What I cannot get out of my head is the impending pain, the forceful, involuntary shuddering of my intestines that is likely to happen in the next hour after having eaten a large styrofoam carton of lamb (gyro meat) over yellow rice coated in a pungent mix of hot sauce and that nearly mayonnaise-like concoction Mr. I-Cook-My-Meat-On-The-Street typically serves me. I pity the two women who share my desk area. On this day, unlike most others, I have that lingering after-taste in the back of my throat that indicates a potentially lethal build-up of gas that one only learns to detect after years of experiencing and learning to manage ass-searing flatulation. Oh god, here we go.

From this point on I'll be more considerate of those less well endowed.

monitor envy