A popup is telling me I can impress my friends by signing up to hear about all the newst quizzes 48 hours before anyone else!

Borders had the Harry Potter every flavor beans, which even included some of the more unfortunate flavors. I didn't actually buy them to verify the taste though.

I was almost good today. But I'm on my last book, and I turned around and went into Borders, not even letting myself go past the new releases. I got my latest book is Pink Think because I didn't have a pen to write the name down.

I have to wonder about parents who set their kids up with instruments on the street. Do they say, "Here, you could use some performance experience." or "It's time you start paying rent."? Outside of Westlake a girl was playing a song I remembered playing on the violin.

And I thought cell phones in cars were bad... the driver of my bus today got a call on his cell phone and wasn't paying attention to passenger questions.

Today is the two year anniversary of the day Andrew became my cat and of happy-clicker. Remember my first day's post, I just got a new cat! I must feed him Pez.

An employee at a fast food place was arrested after a customer at the drive-thru window received the wrong side order with his chicken dinner -- some pot.

Batt agreed Monday to pay an undisclosed six-figure sum to the John Cage Trust, after publishers of the late American composer sued him for compensation, claiming he had plagiarized Cage's 1952 composition, ``4'33,'' which was totally silent.

Jason came by work to drop off rent and went to lunch with me. We talked about breaking Paul who couldn't understand sleeping with someone without having sex, let alone that I do it with multiple people.

I read Karla's newspaper at work today with the idea that I should be more involved in what goes on in the world, as weel as being a good way to use up time at work. But I still can't handle the idea of essentially reading a list of everything wrong with the world on each day.

My purple latex putty is essentially Silly Putty. I rolled up a ball and it bounced, and I've even lifted news paper print with it.

Impulse buys of the week:

Hello Kitty somen noodles
Sour Pez
A purple inflatable pen

I saw a magazine cover on Karla's desk saying that Stephen King is going to stop publishing, so I had to read the article. My concern was the Dark Tower series still being written. According to the article he has the next two already written and almost finished with the last one, but the next won't be released until later next year. I guess he has to make sure the money keeps coming in somehow.

I caught the headline before work, Suit over 18 cents redefines 'small-claims' court

My copy of Earth & Beyond arrived today! See you next month.

I dropped a can of shave gel on my foot in the shower last night so now I'm broken and walking funny.

My wrist brace turns out to be good for something after all. The stapler at work is sticking, and I can pound it with the palm of my hand and not feel a thing.

It was brought to my attention that I post <shock>personal</shock> things on my site. Sorry about that. I'll try to write more about my cats and what I had for breakfast.

What if Al Gore had won?

The Earth & Beyond beta test servers went down tonight so I'm going to be going through withdrawal until the actual game arrives.

There was a notice for flu shots up at work today. I remember debating them with bikepoet last year, giving stories I've heard as to why not to get them. I know he can disprove every excuse I come up with, but the real reason is simply that I'm not comfortable with the idea. I've gotten myself to taking Tylenol but I'm not ready for flu shots.

When my parents divorced, my dad cut off my mom's side of the family in name as well as physically. (I even overheard him on the phone as a kid say that my mom was dead. I don't care how he wants to deny his ex-wife, but you do not pretend *my mother* doesn't exist.)

Unfortunately, the name have stuck. My grandma is my dad's mother, not my mom's. I tend to forget that my mom's family are my relatives too.

I'm trying to reclaim some of this though. "Going home" to visit is more likely to refer to Indiana than Maine. In fact I'm refusing to refer to Maine as "home" anymore. Seattle is home. When I'm asked for my nearest living relative now I'm giving my mom's name instead of my dad's, though this means I'd better learn her new phone number so I don't look silly the next time I do this.

"That's one of the nice things about not being your boyfriend and living with you—I can call you a crackhead without too much guilt" – Jason

The Which Sanrio character are you? test.

Izzy says I have an edible tan line (on my foot.)

I get much better stories in the cash counter. All I hear inside is grandkids and weddings. They're trading music out there. I gave Tom my VNV Futureperfect CD. Ted wants me to burn him Cure CDs and I'm listening to Interpol from Chuck.

It's obviously school fundraising season. I ordered some chocolates (white chocolate peanut butter cups!) for Tom's son, but then felt bad when Sarah's kid Chavez asked me to sponsor him and I just won't have any more money in time. Another one was going around work today. Whatever happened to carrying around a box of candy bars to sell for a dollar? It's easier for people to buy an overpriced candy bar than an overpriced trinket, and there's that instant gratification.

Someone walked by at work and smiled at me who looked much like the woman who fit my diaphragm!

Shannon sent me Poke a Penguin!

I divide my time at work into 'work time' and 'real time'. Noon is the halfway point in work time while at 12:45 I've crossed the halfway point in real time. Real time is what it sounds like while work time is only the time I actually spend at work (subtract lunch.)

I try not to count the real time until I get home because I don't want to know that's six hours from noon. Six hours sounds like a flight, though a flight would be more enjoyable. I'd be reading while someone offered me drink and bad food, a metal fork but plastic knife. The flight back from Montreal with Andrew was nice, with the entire row to ourselves, a movie on his laptop, someone to sleep on (because people make the best pillows.) And when you get off a plane, you've been somewhere.

I wasn't thinking much when bikepet told me this morning that it's legal to take pictures up women's skirts in Washington, mostly because I don't have time to think in the morning and I had misread what he said at first. then i heard about this article at work and I can't beleive this would be considered legal, especially when they were selling the pictures, not just keeping them for "personal" use.

Yesterday was the day of latex: The therapist gave me purple latex putty to do hand exercises. Then I went to Planned Parenthood to be poked around in and fitted for a diaphragm. It's beige in the most boring color of beige that beige can get, with a birth-control-pink case. They really need to make these things more interesting. I'd like a purple one, even that lavender of the putty, or a shiny black one with a purple case.

Andrew said they probably don't make a Sanrio diaphragm case and I heard that as a challenge. Birth-control-pink is very similar to obnoxious-Hello-Kitty-pink.

Getting the diaphragm was exciting, or at least the idea of it. The actual experience of course, of sitting in a waiting room, practicing with the doctor waiting for me to knock on the door, having it checked for placement, was pretty boring. I've been trying out the Instead cups so I think I had some practice before I came in. It was exciting because I'd decided a while ago to go off the pill. I'd been on for seven years, my body under artificial control for that long. I wanted to know what I'm like under my body's own power. I like it. I feel more real this way. I had already been on the pill by default so I never made a conscious decision. This time I made a conscious decision.

Now it needs a name.

Bus issues this morning, along with realizing I can't get very far without my money and bus pass before I get too far up the street... I was late to work. Showing up to work late with a memo on your desk is a scary thing.

Over the last few weeks we...

I was late too many times, I think. Undefined Bad Things are happening. Not consciously realizing that being fired isn't the worst thing that can happen to me.

we have been hit with two NSF checks from...

Checks, L&I claim. Didn't occur to me that this company knows about the claim. The insane form I'm filling out for L&I wants to know everywhere I've worked so they can properly spread the blame. Terminology hadn't clicked. NSF – not sufficient funds. It was a memo from credit saying not to take checks from a certain company. More relevant to the salespeople than the typists, as most of the things that go around here. (Why do I need to know the crane is broken?)

Sickness seems to be going around work. I'm taking echinacea. Must not get sick this year.

People have been very tolerant of my fear of mold. I should propose a rule, 'You deal with the moldy food and I'll rescue the bugs'.

I made a 'writeo'(?) as I was writing the last post and said 'moldy people'.

Andrew threw out some old provolone cheese for me that I had forgotten was in the fridge last night, telling me I didn't even want to see it. So I'm thinking, with all of the moldy food we throw out, and the not-yet moldy food that will mold in the trash, aren't our landfills a thriving mold colony about to take over the world?

As soon as they evolve hands, that is.

I have my physical/occupational therapy today. I want to shorten that but it sounds bad to say I'm going to "therapy"

There are some things about womanhood I'll never be able to get. I've already covered how I got into make-up for the colors, not for whatever reason girls get into make-up for. Andrew can pull off heels better than I can. Even though I love my tall tall boots, I consider playing adult dress-up a different thing than wearing heels and pantyhose to the office. Wearing a bra would drive me crazy. Never carried a purse. If it's not big enough to hold a book or three, it's useless to me. I've never read women's magazines.

I think it bothered my mom when I bought a Wired magazine to read at the airport once instead of something more girl. It probably made me seem too much like my dad. But now that I have other geek-girl role models, I'm proud of that—buying the magazine, not being more like my dad.

There's usually a bunch of various women's magazines in the break room at work which I'll flip through to waste a few minutes. adadadadadadadtable of contentsadadad

Reading Can't Buy My Love made me more aware of how horrible advertising is, especially for/involving women, but I was still surprised. I couldn't believe how many women were on the verge of exposing their breasts. Jackets unzipped almost all the way with nothing underneath, one wearing a 'bra' of Polaroids.

It's not the sexuality that I necessarily have a problem with. I wish people would learn the difference between good sexuality and bad (exploitative?) sexuality so I couldn't be feeling the virgin/whore prude/slut complexes I keep reading about as I try to write. (You don't like half-naked women in advertising? You're a prude. You think women should be able to go topless like men? You're a...)

I'm just not understanding why this is being used to sell to women. Does giant shirtless nipple-boy in Acrombie & Finch? sell to men?

'If I buy these clothes I'll get this woman' ?

'If I buy these clothes I'll be just like this woman' ?

'Or I could pretend to be just like her because I'd never do that' ?

'Ihateher because Iwanttobejustlikeher' ?

The latest in my girl-book series is The Bust Guide to the New Girl Order. I think I had started this one before but it ended up on my bookshelf. I don't know why because this is a wonderful book. I don't want it to end, and it seems like it shouldn't have to because it's stories and essays that could keep adding themselves onto the end, not a novel that would have to keep writing itself after the plot is over.

People at work who are used to the kind of (Bitch Cunt Slut) books I read have asked, "Is that about what I think it's about?" (I don't know, what do you think it's about?) Then they'll sort of point at the cover, at the word Bust. Well, no. But I've been making a list of other books mentioned that I must read, including History of the Breast.

Paul is next to read the Bust Guide. It feels strange to be giving him these books, but then I remember that getting a guy to read these things, especially one who wouldn't have otherwise, is a good thing.

I feel delusional when I manage to show up to work in a good mood. I may have had a good moment but in the back of my mind I'm remembering there's 7 1/2 hours more hours of work to get through, 3 days before the weekend, and who knows how many weeks before I get out of here.

I saw another perfect example of driver stupidity on my way home. I was walking to my bus in the U-dist where they're tearing up and rebuilding the street. It's blocked off for a few blocks and full of construction equipment, but with construction done for the day and no cars allowed, it was exceptionally quiet with just people and shops.

Approaching the beginning (or the end, depending on your point of view) the road was solid but blocked off by three roadblocks and a Street Closed sign.

There was physically enough room for a car to go around either side, and so one did. I had to watch while asking myself, "Where do they think they're going?" Stupidity should be painful, Andrew says, and I don't think it should be rewarded either. I was afraid they'd be able to turn off and keep going. Luckily, a few minutes passed and I saw the car backing up and then driving back out.

Farther toward the beginning (or end) the street was blocked across one side with a No Thru Traffic sign and a Road Closed Ahead sign which they would've had to have passed first.

For all the love of technology I have, I still can't figure out fax machines.

I had a dream that I was reading diet advice which said, "All you have to do to lose weight is lose the package of cookies in your lunch." This annoyed me because I'm not eating cooking with lunch. It's just like all of those 'easy ways to change your diet' lists that start out telling you to stop drinking soda when I don't drink any in the first place.

I'm stealing this directly out of a comment for yesterday (which had nothing to do with me blowing up asteroids.) – National Penis Day.

I've read some boring books on interesting subjects lately. (Walking in the Path of the Gypsies, Mysteries of the Alphabet) I come out feeling like I'm in school—I'm going to be asked questions about what I've learned, but even as I'm reading, I don't remember a thing.

This is too quickly going to turn into my job search journal rather than my weblog, but anyway... I emailed RD directly about the company web site. While there are plans for it, they are 'working with someone' which I can interpret to mean 'not you'.

stari: i like blowing up astroids
minxie: for some reason that doesn't surprise me about you

Here's an article about a poll on the great 'Soda' vs 'Pop' controversy. I'm voting for 'soda' even though even though the Northwest is a 'pop' area.

Three people (including Izzy) have told me about a web publishing type job that Izzy knows about. He gave them my info and says he talked me up!

I emailed the technical contact for my company's web site, asking who was responsible and offering to be their Web Goddess. I seem to have impressed him well enough and he forwarded the email to RD who's responsible for the project now. I was hopeful, but seeing the speed things move around there, nothing's going to come of it. They had an ergonomic specialist come in to look at my work area a month after the carpal tunnel/RSI diagnosis and nearly a month later my monitor is still sitting on a phone book.

I went to my appointment today and found out it's occupational therapy not physical therapy I'm supposed to have so I was scheduled wrong. They got me in for a quick session but not long enough to keep me from having to go back to work.

I stopped at Uwajimaya for a snack, but I couldn't find my star-shaped rice crackers! I ended up picking up some too-cute-for-their-own-good 'Hello Kitty Babies' rice crackers, but they're rather bland tasting.

I have to be almost hyper-aware of dates when I'm typing them all day long, but I was surprised at how much relief there was in realizing it's September 12th.

Today, if any day, I don't want to be near a TV.

I've been slacking on my posting, this time because of Earth & Beyond, my first online multiplayer game. Andrew was home early today so we've spent the entire evening playing together. So that counts as having done something since I was playing with my boyfriend, not just wasting time.

One final quote from Microserfs for you:

So I started to torment Bug about his new 3-cylinder Geo Metro, and Amy joined in, saying, "God, Bug, you couldn't even kill someone with that thing. You could maybe nudge them to death, or something..." And then she pretended she was at her doctor's office and her doctor was saying, "Amy, this rash you've got...have you had prolonged exposure to rodents, perhaps, or small dogs, maybe 3-cylinder cars?" and Amy says, "Well, yes, actually, I have noticed a Geo following me around and nudging me considerably...I just assumed it was maybe a lost student driver but now that I think about it, that's where my rash is coming from!"

I've finally come up with a domain name for my portfolio—deSoleil.net (.com is taken). I'm looking for opinions, but mostly of the 'agree with me because I've already made up my mind' type.

I missed my physical therapy appointment—when I called to find out which day it was, they didn't have anything listed for me, "But you do have a no-show for last month." Last month? I'm not used to getting appointments so quickly. So now I'm rescheduled for Thursday. I don't know what happens at physical therapy except that Jason tells me they're sadists.

There's been two parts in Microserfs that need to be quoted out:

"Here," she said, scratching my tender inner forearms lightly with her fingernails, sending me into paroxysms of delight. "How does that feel?"
"Glrmmph."
"Just as I thought. People who do repetitive work on keyboard tend to have highly erogenous forearms and shoulder cuffs. Now, you scratch me."

I read that and think, that explains me! But it doesn't, because I've loved having my arms scratched since I was a kid, before I was spending any amount of time on computers. Maybe being computer geek is genetic and sensitive arms is intertwined on the same gene. I think everyone I know is extremely sensitive to being scratched, but I don't know if anyone is so arm-specific as I am.

This one I just liked:

Dusty gave Susan lessons in dating architecture: "Tech women hold all the cards, and they know it. Tech men outnumber tech women by about three to one, so the women can choose and discard mates at will. And let's face it, it's cool for a guy to be dating a tech chick."

I had my hair complemented in sign language.

'Imagine the confidence of being able to enjoy oral sex, the most intimate of sexual acts, knowing that a sweet delicious taste and scent is coming from you, coming from within.' – http://www.sweetrelease.com

I was talking to Sarah tonight and found out I'm not the only person the parking meters have attacked.

Squishymoose.com is available! And Andrew won't let me buy it.

People at work are picky—Alice isn't supposed to have purple hair. The Mad Hatter isn't female. How can someone go about questioning wonderland?

I've been listening to Swarf again while I walk. My dream tour is still VNV Nation playing with Swarf.

In the beginning of Microserfs, the part that actually takes place at Microsoft, whenever a personal interaction with Bill Gates is mentioned he's named as "Bill (Bill!)" You can't get that kind of intensity as a company where the president works in the same office, but I did have my own experience today.

While I was getting my tea Kermit says, "Good morning," and, "Your hair is certainly changing color."

I didn't know what to say other than "yeah..." (Hey, this is the guy who was using morphing ink so I could never type his orders right.)

"It looks nice," he says.

Of course other people aren't necessarily believing this. "He could have been sarcastic. Maybe he's colorblind." Maybe, maybe, but it was still said.

My phone died at work today. I think it was because I was planning to call about a job.

Do stars have consciousness?

Don't you hate it when you get a great idea and you can't tell anyone because it has to stay a secret? It's just like the Alice/Cheshire cat painting I made for Izzy's birthday that I couldn't show off until he got it.

Wow, an art vending machine.

I keep missing my chance to be the first (well, second...) to post these things by being slow.

I heard about this on Digital Eve yesterday and then Andrew sends me a link today—the Greek gaming ban.

Izzy sent me the Harry Potter Nimbus 2000 Broom on Amazon link a little while back and today it made it to NWR. Read the reviews—why didn't I have toys like this as a kid?

I'm supposed to fill out this absolutely insane L&I form because of my wrists. They are wanting to know everything about my life, including hobbies, where I went to high school, college, and it seems like every job I've ever worked at in my life.

I was in Uwajimaya after work today, squeezing through a congested spot with two-way foot traffic, when this old guy says to me as he walks by, "You have pink hair." It was odd because it was so state-the-obvious. He might as well have said, "You're wearing shoes."

I guess once in a while we have to be snapped out of this tolerant bubble that centers around Capital Hill and be brought back to reality. I was heating up soup in the weird little women's bathroom/lounge area where a couple of girls were watching daytime TV. I overheard,

"Is that a man??"
"You need to change the channel. Ugh, gay people. I can't look at that while I'm eating... not while I'm eating"

I only got the quickest glance at the TV, a talk show, I assume about cross-dressing. The talk continued as I went back to my desk feeling tainted, where I happened to be reading the book Dress Codes.

I imagine someone now berating me for not speaking up. (Jake? Voices in my head?) I'm not a proper activist. I know that emailing form letters isn't nearly as effective as writing my own, paying for a stamp, but I hope it does something. What was the proper thing to say if I was supposed to do so? "You shouldn't bash gay people...," which singles out 'gay people' as a separate object, to be looked down upon, just not so obviously.

"But look at that, it's gross!" my imagined response.
"No it's not."
"Yes it is..."
...repeat...

No need to point out that cross dressing doesn't automatically equal gay and vice versa. It's all bundled together under the same fear.

"Hey did you know I'm bi?"
Again, my imagined response, "Eww, does that mean you'd <insert explicit sexual act> with girls?"
"Maybe, well... um, I haven't but... I dunno... lack of opportunity?"

I know I'm hardly the model gay rights spokesperson. I've never been repressed. I know I've outright benefitted from the work of others, that the open atmosphere of my bubble made it allowed for me to question my sexuality and that I outright stole the idea of being attracted to people rather than gender. I know I could fake it if necessary—and in fact I probably am inadvertently—people at work know I have a boyfriend so I'm sure no one has considered the idea that I'm anything but straight. I could talk about "my girlfriend" without anyone giving it a second thought. (Funny how that works for girls.)

I sometimes feel like I should defend calling myself bi even though no one's asking, at least not directly. There was a post on the Seagoth board a few months ago suggesting there be a statute of limitations on calling yourself bi-curious—if after six months you haven't done anything about it, you aren't all that 'curious'. I considered myself exempt from the time limit by jumping past the maybe/maybe not phase. (I've never liked the term 'bi-curious'. It sounds to personal ad-like and seems to translate to 'my boyfriend wanted a threesome and I thought I'd give it a try.') But I'm sure someone who thinks this way wouldn't consider me "qualified" since I haven't "done anything" other than kiss a few girls, have a couple crushes, cuddle, and that one time which would have slipped my mind if Gryphon hadn't been so excited later about having been there for my "first bi experience".

No one questions others' heterosexuality. I was perfectly straight for years before I'd ever slept with a boy. Even before that it would have been assumed I'd group up to like boys (I know my mom was happy that I did) the same as going to college, getting married, buying a house. If I had based my sexuality off of 'I'll try it once and see what I think', I guess I'd be asexual and so would a lot of women. My first attempt as sex was a disaster, and I'm still traumatized by the first time I saw a naked man 'bounce'.

I've gotten the range of reactions on my new hair, including Izzy trying to eat it. ("mmm... raspberry") My favorite is how Ted's had to change his nickname for me. He calls me 'Red' because of my hair, but now he's started calling me 'Pink'.

I had mistyped that Jason made me cinnamon toast in squares instead of triangles, which invalidates the point of writing about it. Toast in triangles is infinitely better than toast in squares, and more worthy of being the only post of the day.

Jason is the most wonderful roommate—he just made me cinnamon toast cut into triangles.

I've spent a big chuck of today trying to out-level Andrew in the Earth & Beyond beta test. I think he likes seeing me get hooked on games so he can have a gamer girlfriend.

I've nearly gotten my Mad Hatter costume together for the masquerade next week. I picked up a perfect leather mask at Bumbershoot Saturday. Shannon's helping much by sewing my vest, and we dyed my hair fuchsia today!

Quote of the night:

Jessica: Shannon, it's Girls on Girls! [song]
Shannon: I know, I'm on one.

As I've said before, yay for three day weekends and late nights out! This is my three year anniversary of going to the Vogue.

I must be weak—I had bought a set of hand exercisers which only came in high tension and were much too hard. Today I bought a set in light tension and I can barely feel the difference.

Andrew went to Bumbershoot yesterday, both of our first times. I'd decided I'm tired of having boyfriends who won't do things because they're broke and/or bitter.