![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Z has obligingly put up a link to just a PDF of the cover and the article I wrote, which is considerably smaller than the 15 MB PDF of the full issue. As an added bonus, there is no page 3 with the before and after pictures of the back fat rolls. So...
The lite version is here, so for anyone holding off on reading it out of bandwidth concerns, well, it's still 888k. But, better than 15 MB.
In other news, really there is no other news, and I'm tired, and I'm sick of my job and it was just one of those days when I'm sick of my job. I got heartily stiffed by a large drunken band of Canadians who consistently gave me a dollar every time I brought them a $30 round of drinks, to the point where I just stopped coming by to take their order. But they genuinely seemed to think they were being generous. I still cannot figure out what the demographic is-- why some Canadians tip like normal people and why some seem to think they're doing you a fucking favor when they give you 3%. If I could figure it out I'd still be out of luck, but at least I'd feel scientific about it.
And then I will go to the part of Canada they're from and I will key the fuck out of all of their cars. I mean, uh, I will, uh, take photographs of their lovely scenery. Right! That's it.
That'll show 'em. Those bastards.
I am unwinding after my long day by "snuggling" with Z in his bed, which involves me lying here with my laptop and him sitting beside me with his laptop and neither of us actually making any physical contact with the other whatsoever. But I am consoled by the thought that if I had to wipe my nose I could do so on his sleeve without actually moving myself very much. He is indubitably consoled by the fact that I don't actually have a runny nose. Or would be, were I to express this thought aloud. I have merely contented myself with sniffing his arm. It smells like some sort of smoke, but only faintly. I might be imagining it.
The high school across the street is having a bonfire and dance party in their parking lot, complete with really loud and shitty music and blinky lights. We're in the back of the house, but that doesn't mean we can't hear the shitty bass. Oh well. I am both proud and distressed that I recognized Bon Jovi's "Shot Through The Heart" solely from the bassline.
The lite version is here, so for anyone holding off on reading it out of bandwidth concerns, well, it's still 888k. But, better than 15 MB.
In other news, really there is no other news, and I'm tired, and I'm sick of my job and it was just one of those days when I'm sick of my job. I got heartily stiffed by a large drunken band of Canadians who consistently gave me a dollar every time I brought them a $30 round of drinks, to the point where I just stopped coming by to take their order. But they genuinely seemed to think they were being generous. I still cannot figure out what the demographic is-- why some Canadians tip like normal people and why some seem to think they're doing you a fucking favor when they give you 3%. If I could figure it out I'd still be out of luck, but at least I'd feel scientific about it.
And then I will go to the part of Canada they're from and I will key the fuck out of all of their cars. I mean, uh, I will, uh, take photographs of their lovely scenery. Right! That's it.
That'll show 'em. Those bastards.
I am unwinding after my long day by "snuggling" with Z in his bed, which involves me lying here with my laptop and him sitting beside me with his laptop and neither of us actually making any physical contact with the other whatsoever. But I am consoled by the thought that if I had to wipe my nose I could do so on his sleeve without actually moving myself very much. He is indubitably consoled by the fact that I don't actually have a runny nose. Or would be, were I to express this thought aloud. I have merely contented myself with sniffing his arm. It smells like some sort of smoke, but only faintly. I might be imagining it.
The high school across the street is having a bonfire and dance party in their parking lot, complete with really loud and shitty music and blinky lights. We're in the back of the house, but that doesn't mean we can't hear the shitty bass. Oh well. I am both proud and distressed that I recognized Bon Jovi's "Shot Through The Heart" solely from the bassline.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 06:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 01:52 pm (UTC)