And the janitor says “I don’t know how you could have talked to him, sir, since he’s been dead for ten years.“
Category: Angst
“Tuna Casserole
Ingredients: 1 large casserole dish
Place the casserole dish in a cold oven. Place a chair facing the oven and sit in it forever. Think about how hungry you are. When night falls, do not turn on the light.”
Jean-Paul Sartre attempts to write a cookbook. Found via the Interconnected mini-links, which is great in direct proportion to your dorkiness. I think it’s awesome.
Twenty-four hours ago at this time, I was still talking about the fact that I’d seen Bobby McFerrin and Savion Glover perform, live. Today, at this time, I own Halo 2.
I’d like to have Lisa, Flora, Allison and especially Ken (who turned me on to Halo in the first place) to play the latter with me; I don’t, as they are casualties of my own private diaspora. But I had Maria to go to the show with me, and DC to encounter there. I’ll have the Thursday Night Grandkids to kick my butt at Halo.
Sometimes I feel bad about marking time in my life by video games and concerts, but there are worse ways to do so.
I am glad Jonathan Yardley, Washington Post book critic, stepped up and made the case that Catcher In The Rye sucks. I don’t know if Jonathan Yardley knows his stuff or not, but I hate Catcher In The Rye, and I’m glad to be seconded.
Actually I am mildly happy about this one
Yes, yes, well done, Boston! Now it’s a mere eighteen hours until you can pull out some more of the skillsmanship you displayed in the sixth inning, when you and the baseball appeared to repel each other, like the poles of a magnet–er, that is, like the same poles… of… of two… different magnets. Or maybe you’ll just wake up–later today–and remember that whoops! You just killed every damn pitcher you have!
Update 1210 hrs: “Repel each other, like the poles of a magnet.” Gah. I’m fired.
I only post about baseball when I’m angry at it
19 runs in one game. In the postseason.