So I watched the heck out of this movie on HBO when I was a kid. It’s on Netflix now:
If you’ve got 90 minutes, it’s a great nostalgia piece. Sheen does his “sober guy” character for a change. And there’re a lot of Pontiacs going fast. And Turbo!
Y’all got ’til midnight to sign up. I already have a few emails, but I know it’s not everyone who’s participated before. DO IT NOW.
Tired, sore, typing sucks. Going to go read.
Monochrome and veiny.
Week 2 on the new job, and I’m still having fun. Woo!
I am pretty tired after last night’s hog vigil, though, so I’m going to keep this terse.
Not of MMM, mind you, but of my time in this weird job. There are some parts of it I’m definitely going to miss (like my coworkers, and being able to kinda sorta talk about my job and having people be interested in it), and some parts I really won’t miss (like commuting past the airport, not having my kitchen right there for lunches, not having my gym nearby). Friday (or possibly earlier, depends on when we determine that I’ve sufficiently brain-dumped to coworkers and management) will be my last day in the industry. I am definitely going to miss the people. They are generally great to work with even if we couldn’t talk about much else, and to a person they really want to solve the problem. It’s been really nice to be part of a team that is focused, competent, and positive. If things don’t work out with the new gig, they have said they’d have me back. I don’t know that I’ll take them up on that, but I wouldn’t feel awful doing so. Even if it’s “just a a job”, it really isn’t a bad one, I just think I’ve found a better one for me.
Okay, time for some abs.
That’s how long I’ll be here. May as well grit my teeth and make the best of it. At least it’s honest work and the pay is pretty good and the benefits are nice and there are lots of holidays and my office chair is comfy…
Huh, maybe I’m just a whiny malcontent after all.
So, there were some neat parallels between July 4 1776 and June 23, 2016. Both times, it was a big group of Englishmen (primarily) who wanted out from under the thumb of a distant, oppressive, unaccountable government. Both times, the last straw might have been tea. Look, I’m going to warn the rest of you earthlings for the last time: do NOT get between a Briton and his beverage of choice. We burn continents, destroy empires, and generally make a big mess of things over this stuff. Yoo-rope should be thankful that they just walked out this time. You fools ought to be hiding under the table and counting quietly to 100 hoping they won’t come back and torch the place.
Anyhow, I’d like to think that we good folk descended in part from the best and brightest the Iles had to offer the world a few centuries back might have had something to do with it. Showed ’em how, as it were. Now, we should probably talk about orthodontia and rhoticity at some point, but it can wait until after you’ve got a decent Prime Minister, and possibly until after we’ve shed the Muslim Brotherhood plant from our white house. In the meantime, I wish you folks the best of luck making Britain great again, and I hope you’ll take a little bit of joy watching us celebrate what we won for ourselves so long ago, and perhaps feel just a bit more kinship than in years past.
Also, stay tuned for #TEXIT, #AKEXIT, and possibly #QUEBEXIT.
I thought about trying to find patriotic fit girls, but that seemed like work and I’m on vacation. Also I looked and there aren’t a ton of images just waiting to be poached.
So, a dancer first.
Well, not really, at least not after my shower. But I was fool enough to work hard outside in the hottest part of the day on the hottest day of the year thus far. That ended in me collapsing on the couch for almost 2 hours after nearly passing out in the garden. Not heatstroke, just really dehydrated. Then I ate burrito meat and drank a lot of tea and felt, well, not much better. Headache that hasn’t gone away by the time I’m writing this (about 10PM on Sunday). Hoping I can sleep okay.
Interview Friday went okay. Supposed to hear something as early as today (Monday), assuming the Friday afternoon conversations went well. I should certainly know by the end of the week, or so I’m told. Meaningless. I have to work and behave today as though I have to work here another 25 years. Yay.
I’m not sure why you need a weighted sack while kicking.
So phragmites (frag my teez) are an invasive rhizomous monocot that grow in and near ponds and marshes. My side of the pond is absolutely filled with them, and I need to fix that. The leaves above the water are sharp like razor wire, and the roots go very deep. I spent an hour of my first Father’s Day about waist-to-chest deep in the pond pulling these things up and throwing them into piles on the shoreline so they could dry out and I can burn them. In the process, I turned my hands into hamburger. I’ve got two bandaids on the left hand and four on the right.
Oh, and I completely forgot to call my dad. Not because I’m an awful, ungrateful child, but because it completely slipped my mind. I’ll call him later today.
Let’s start off with some monochrome.
So the new pony beat up our horse to the point we were worried about her being lamed by it. Bloody chest, bleeding leg wound, just awful. We’ve got them separated now, and he’s headed back to the horse rescue sometime this week. Our donation will be staying there too, unfortunately. Horses are dumb pets. If you haven’t heard me say that enough times to put you off getting some of your own, I can’t help you. Get a guinea pig or a rabbit or something if you have to have an edible pet (or a dog if you’re related to the SCOAMF), but not a horse, unless you’re Amish and intend use them for work. At least our old horse isn’t awful, but they can’t live alone, so we’ll have to try again. Yay.