All stick and no carrot, since ought-three.
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Wed, 29 Oct 2003
Frantically running around trying to assemble everything I need for this trip. I have to leave my car at work (another Somerville fucking double-street-sweeping week ahead), take the bus back home tonight, then take a cab to the airport at 4:30am tomorrow morning, so I basically have to get everything in my life organized NOW while I still have a car.
Bought Quicksilver. I know it's too early for a paperback, but Jesus Christ, does the thing have to weigh ten pounds and fucking take up more space than my laptop? I was really tempted to get some other paperback book instead, but nothing really caught my eye and I wasn't willing to gamble too much with eighteen or whatever hours of flying ahead of me. Last time I accidentally bought a book I had already read and was forced to spend the entire flight thinking, which always leaves me in a hyper-depressed state.
Bought lots of coffee and red Twizzlers to trade with the natives for food and shelter.
(Side note: despite it being pretty crappy weather outside, the view from my office window reached its peak of autumnal beauty today and I gaze at it contentedly as I ponder the next mot juste.)
Got a call from security because I parked my car on the grass. I was like, "Bitch please. If you hadn't cordoned off a huge section for a 'training exercise', whatever the fuck that is, I wouldn't have had to park on that nasty-ass mud patch you arbitrarily decided not to pave over ten years ago which you now, in a laughably poetic turn, call 'grass'." But all that really came out was like "Oh, that's not cool? Ok, I'll move it." So I drove and bought Quicksilver.
Set up my xscreensaver with jcreed's phosphor trick to annoy my blog-hating officemate in my absence.
And with that, I think I am prepared.
Here's a story a friend of mine told me about his only visit to Pittsburgh:
In an era of hit-and-miss Dylan performances, that concert is apparently remembered as a particularly good one....
Well originally I had this grand plan to contest the speeding ticket and dazzle them with my knowledge of cosine distance etc. and prove the radar wrong. I'm pretty sure I was caught in a perfunctory quota-filling operation. But now, on the verge of a two week trip abroad (plea due right before I get back), I realize that I don't really remember where on the long stretch of Rt. 125 it occurred, and I didn't even get a look at where the cop was stationed. So I don't think I can mount much of a defense other than
So I'm pleading nolo contendere and just take it in the ass from my insurance company for years to come.
I guess that after two and a half years of keeping it at 85 to and from work, one ticket ain't so bad. Pity it didn't occur when I was actually speeding. But who am I to expect any kind of correlation between crime and punishment?
A banker is a fellow who lends you his umbrella when the sun is shining and wants it back the minute it begins to rain. -- Mark Twain