bits move slow in the cold?
Jan. 22nd, 2005 10:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Inexplicably we're getting Internet speeds like dial-up. I mean... Safari times out trying to load livejournal.com, which wouldn't be so crazy except it does the same for gmail, which is, well, unusual. Dave is tinkering with the router, thusfar to no avail. Bummer.
The snowstorm was supposed to come in around ten. Here it is, ten til, and the snow's starting. So we're pleased.
Our checks arrived from HSBC. I was trying to get Dave excited-- look, we have checks together, isn't that cute? -- but all I got was a monotone 'woo'. Not finding money romantic, I guess.
Last night at work some woman handed me a dollar along with the $5 for her purchase, and as I was about to thank her for the tip asked for four quarters. OK, I thought, and gave them to her. So she left a 50 cent tip.
Ouch, yo.
Oh well. You don't get rich by hating money. (This was in the club, where only rich people are. The phenomenon of rich people being poor tippers is well-documented.) At least she left one; most don't.
Am listening to Curtis Mayfield, whose album has a shamefully low playcount except for "superfly", showing that I am as single-influenced as the rest of Wrong With America Today. (That's one of Dave's catchphrases. When someone does something he finds reprehensible, he informs them they are What Is Wrong With America Today. Although he acknowledges that often the singles are the only decent songs on the CDs-- and even without knowing beforehand what they are, it's easy to pick them out sometimes. They're better-produced, poppier, the artist's foibles are noticeably toned-down, there are more instruments, and sometimes they're even a little bit louder on the CD.) I like this song because it begins with the vocalist shouting: "Sistas! Niggas! Whiteys! Jews!" and the way he says "Jews" it resounds and sounds like "Jooooooooooos!" only more abrupt. And it's the kind of brilliantly amusing line one wants to repeat at inopportune moments except that such a combination of words is likely to get one decked if taken out of context thus.
I didn't take very many pictures at home and am reminded once again that I am no kind of photographer. Do I even have any shots of my house or neighborhood in the snow? No. Did I get a single shot of the Spirit of Christmas Excess vomiting on the neighbors' lawn up the street? (Five inflatables on a twenty-square-foot lawn, people.) No. There were even beautiful snowy evenings with all the lights on, a few of which I had off, and could have wandered up the street with my tripod. But I didn't.
So, so very sad. I love taking pictures and am so lazy now I never do. Today I really need to tidy at least my room, but it's unlikely I'll actually get around to it before work.
And I am so far behind on Chapter 5, it's not funny. I need just a chunk of time to catch up, but you know if I had a chunk of time I wouldn't spend it on the Vikings novel. Such is the sad pathetic slackerness that is Me.
The snowstorm was supposed to come in around ten. Here it is, ten til, and the snow's starting. So we're pleased.
Our checks arrived from HSBC. I was trying to get Dave excited-- look, we have checks together, isn't that cute? -- but all I got was a monotone 'woo'. Not finding money romantic, I guess.
Last night at work some woman handed me a dollar along with the $5 for her purchase, and as I was about to thank her for the tip asked for four quarters. OK, I thought, and gave them to her. So she left a 50 cent tip.
Ouch, yo.
Oh well. You don't get rich by hating money. (This was in the club, where only rich people are. The phenomenon of rich people being poor tippers is well-documented.) At least she left one; most don't.
Am listening to Curtis Mayfield, whose album has a shamefully low playcount except for "superfly", showing that I am as single-influenced as the rest of Wrong With America Today. (That's one of Dave's catchphrases. When someone does something he finds reprehensible, he informs them they are What Is Wrong With America Today. Although he acknowledges that often the singles are the only decent songs on the CDs-- and even without knowing beforehand what they are, it's easy to pick them out sometimes. They're better-produced, poppier, the artist's foibles are noticeably toned-down, there are more instruments, and sometimes they're even a little bit louder on the CD.) I like this song because it begins with the vocalist shouting: "Sistas! Niggas! Whiteys! Jews!" and the way he says "Jews" it resounds and sounds like "Jooooooooooos!" only more abrupt. And it's the kind of brilliantly amusing line one wants to repeat at inopportune moments except that such a combination of words is likely to get one decked if taken out of context thus.
I didn't take very many pictures at home and am reminded once again that I am no kind of photographer. Do I even have any shots of my house or neighborhood in the snow? No. Did I get a single shot of the Spirit of Christmas Excess vomiting on the neighbors' lawn up the street? (Five inflatables on a twenty-square-foot lawn, people.) No. There were even beautiful snowy evenings with all the lights on, a few of which I had off, and could have wandered up the street with my tripod. But I didn't.
So, so very sad. I love taking pictures and am so lazy now I never do. Today I really need to tidy at least my room, but it's unlikely I'll actually get around to it before work.
And I am so far behind on Chapter 5, it's not funny. I need just a chunk of time to catch up, but you know if I had a chunk of time I wouldn't spend it on the Vikings novel. Such is the sad pathetic slackerness that is Me.
