It’s amazing how poorly Californians react to bad weather. If we get more than an eighth of an inch of rain we firmly believe the world is about to end; that we stand upon the precipice of painful inconvenience and total annihilation. We’re unsure which direction in which to fall, often opting for the worse of the two as we blindly thrash and gnaw in the unfamiliar confines of our temporary misfortune.
Take me for instance. I awoke this morning at 5am for the sole purpose of getting into work at 6am just so I could leave early to avoid the afternoon traffic and predicted early evening squalls that would surely portend our certain doom.
Man, we’re a weak, reactionary lot, we Californians.
And as I write this, the end times have yet to befall our tiny corner of reality. The rains have not carried us away to our ultimate reward. Though a severe bout of fat rain and a bit of hail have managed to visit us, we’ve yet to see the thunderous hell storm that the news has been projecting and carefully nurturing in our tiny little brains these past few days. I can’t tell you how used I feel. Like a one night stand forced to endure the walk of shame down the dark, narrow hallway of some anonymous fraternity, mocked and scorned for fervently believing every sultry, filthy lie I had been told, my skin crawled with humility and remorse for unquestioningly swallowing their lies.
I don’t think I’d fare well in a state that had actual seasons. Snow would definitely send me over the edge…
Karin bought me a bunch of bananas because they had this sticker adhered to their skins:
Ya know, it’s the fact that Karin thought I’d enjoy them because of the monkey sticker that made me smile. She knows me too well. It’s these simple things that make me realize I have the greatest wife in the world…
Categories: Books, Computer, holiday, Movies, Music, Politics, Random Tags: Books, Computer, Movies, Politics, Random
I have a quick question: What happens if, while playing poker, somebody dies at the table with an open hand? Does that count as a fold? Is the hand re-dealt? Does anyone get to see the dead man’s cards, or do they go back into the deck face down? What happens to the pot, and the dead man’s bets?
I’m sure Vegas has rules for such things, but I’ve never seem ‘em.
And, on a completely unrelated note, the brother-in-law hooked me up with a copy of Fallout 3 for Christmas, and I’ve been playing it nonstop ever since. Sure, it’s not quite as expansive as Oblivion (which I loved to death and played through twice), but it’s one of these games that seems to pull you right in and sucks the life from your very marrow. I find it difficult to put down. I swear, I’ve only managed eight hours of sleep these past two nights. I feel like a zombie but I’m dying for another fix of this accursed game.
It’s funny how these addictions seem to catch you when you’re most unprepared. Heh…
Forgive me if I cut this entry short. After twelve hours at work today I have naught the willpower nor the energy to focus on any one topic. It was, to put it mildly, “one of those days”. I blame the developers for this rotten day. Seems we have some new people who can’t QA their code worth a darn.
I think I’ll toss back a beer tonight and give a listen to Mewithoutyou‘s album It’s All Crazy! It’s All False! It’s All A Dream! It’s Alright. If you dig The Decemberists, give Mewithoutyou a shot.
