December 2002

Well, the digital photo frame I got for my grandparents is cool, but the system for uploading pictures absolutely sucks. It has allowed my sister to flood the receiver with pictures of her stupid dog. I thought giving family members “guest access” would give them a chance to post while at the same time allow me to regulate their activity; not so. All I can do is sit back and watch Lauren abuse her privelege until I get fed up and delete her access altogether.

What a travesty. Looking at the “What’s Torturing The Grandparents Now” window on the right makes me want to disconnect the picture frame when I head over there tonight. The little trash can icons mean I’ve marked three for deletion, but who in their right mind would upload so many similar pictures in the first place? And to think that the picture of Dia and me in our Undercover Brother T-shirts was deleted to make room for six of the little runt — it just makes me sad. I’m glad the responsibility of uploading pictures doesn’t fall entirely to me, but I shouldn’t have to police my own gift.

The good news is that the pictures were uploaded directly, instead of posting them to an album and then over to the receiver. This means that when new pictures are put up, the doggie pics are gone automatically. ‘Tis the season to be spiteful, time to start uploading now.

One more present that I got from my parents….

Me and my big mouth. I’m glad we could all sit back and laugh about how stupid I am.

Santa was good to me this year. The slightly-used G4 computer was the earliest gift and I didn’t dare ask for more, but I got stuff anyway.

Dia and I spent about $700 total, but got most of it back in the form of various presents. Lauren gave me my own copy of Cranium, Dana gave me some Garbage Pail Kids posters she found on eBay, and Jamie gave me beef jerky and a poster of the Kramer painting featured in an episode of Seinfeld. I got lots of cash from my parents and grandparents, and my cousin and her husband gave me a $50 gift card to Blockbuster. My parents also gave me some comic books, two Surrational prints by Scott Mutter, and a few other odds and ends.

Dia and I exchanged a bunch of presents. I gave her some cookware, a HandiStitch (lame, but she said she wanted it a while back), stuff for her car like a Darwin fish, steering wheel cover, and trash bag, two Guns ‘n’ Roses CDs, a new ironing board cover, and a foot soaker that we’re returning because it sucks. She gave me an Escher print, the first season of 24 on DVD which we haven’t seen, The New York Times Great Stories of the Century, Dispatches from the Tenth Circle of Hell, a gift certificate to Caroline’s in New York, blank DVDs, and a duck puppet.

None of the presents exchanged on Christmas evening held a candle to the gift Dia and I got for my grandparents: a Ceiva digital photo receiver. It hooks up to the phone line and dials up to a server between 2-5 a.m. to download up to 10 new photos. I can store up to a thousand in various albums, and everyone in the family can have guest accounts so I don’t even have to do all the work. I plugged this bad boy in after they opened it and within seven minutes we were looking at photos I had uploaded the night before. The latest word is that the old folks love it and it’s working just like the box said, “Grandparents can’t wait to see what new photos have been added each day!” Now I feel guilty I haven’t sent any new pictures all weekend.

Well, I made it home without falling asleep and crashing into a ditch. You know it’s a successful trip when there are no van complications (I call them vanplications! Groan….) and even though I saw about 15 state troopers on the way home I still didn’t get a ticket. The ride up capped off a whirlwind 1.5 day visit to good ol’ Davidsonville.

It was really great hanging out with my friends from home again. I’ve seen plenty of my parents in recent weeks, so this weekend was dedicated to the G4. After a long, boring day at work on Friday I zoomed home, where most of us met at the Double T diner. I picked up Alex on my way down at his mom’s new apartment in Odenton. Steve and Gosia met us at around 9:45 p.m. and Andrew and Molly shortly thereafter. Even though we hadn’t seen Dre and Mooly in ages, it was just like old times. I had forgotten just how cool Mooly is, within minutes we were swearing up a storm together.

We overstayed our welcome at the diner, so we headed over to the nearest liquor store, picked up some fine malt beverages, and headed to my house where we hung out in the basement and chatted it up until 1:30 a.m. when Steve and Gosia had to head home. Then it really turned out like old times when the rest of us stayed up until 4:30 a.m. watching The Mexican with my sister. It was quite an ordeal, since as usual we couldn’t agree on a movie and even started watching Bad Company first until we couldn’t take it anymore; Dre and Jamie didn’t even make it halfway through.

Alex crashed at my place as planned, and my dad took us out for omelettes when we woke up at noon on Saturday. From there we went to the usual thrift stores (the Goodwill Super Store and the Annapolis Junque Boutique) and drove around until Jeff was free. After even more driving around we picked up Steve and hit the Brickskellar in NW Washington D.C. where Dre and Mooly joined us again and we spent a good four hours boozing it up again. We headed home at midnight and rather than backtrack after dropping Lex off, I decided to just keep going to Philly.

I’ve got some great pictures from this weekend and I’ll post them once I have a gallery framework set up; I can output all my albums right from iPhoto, but I need to organize them all somehow. I also got some more McDonald’s character glasses and a Britney Spears calendar at the thrift store, new springs for my Betabrite, and a bottle of Edgewater’s finest Edgewater Vodka, and Jeff brought me some of his photos from Steve’s wedding in Poland and some Simpsons-themed generic Kinder Eggs from Japan.

It was a shame Dia couldn’t come home with me and that Gosia stayed home Saturday night, but it was really something to hang out with just the six of us again. We were only missing Matt Watt and Nathan for it to be a true G8 experience, but I don’t think it would have been as much fun. Nothing against them, but baby steps are probably best. Jeff won’t be coming home again anytime soon, but I definitely hope I get to see more of Andrew and Molly whenever I get the chance.

I’m a pretty smart guy. I’ve got two degrees, more than the normal dose of common sense, a dollup of creativity, and despite being fiscally irresponsible sometimes I’m not too shabby where money matters are concerned. I was able to achieve and/or develop most of these traits without studying too much.

For some reason, though, I heard the commercials during The Howard Stern Show for the International Star Registry and my brain turned to mush. I thought that there were so many stars being discovered that their discoverers were selling the naming rights to this consortium. This benevolent organization was making a small profit on the service of helping people along the official naming process.

It turns out I’m one of the biggest idiots I know. I should have checked it out a little more before shelling out $91 for the middle tier package, which included a certificate, a star chart with “my” star highlighted, and a pamphlet on astronomy. I recently looked up ISR on Google and found an article in Wired that pretty much sums up all the reasons why astronomers hate them and how they’re able to do business. Like a senior citizen ordering $2 bills from the Franklin Mint (you’re paying $100 for the deluxe vinyl pouch!), I heard only what I wanted to because I thought I had found a really neat gift. I’d say someone should put a stop to these shitheads but for the principles of caveat emptor, capitalism, and survival of the fittest.

So this would have been hands-down the worst gift I had ever gotten my parents if it wasn’t for Matt laughing his ass off at the Mexican restaurant the other night. Dia and I were a little distraut after he explained how this goddamn company is scamming thousands of people every year: They print a book listing stars and give them unofficial titles, then copyright the book. That’s it. There’s absolutely nothing scientific about the process at all. I even hoodwinked Dia, another person with above-average intelligence, into getting one for a friend of her host-mom, Bob Robinson. We both thought it was a swell idea until that fateful night with Matt. It didn’t stop there, either. My grandmother “wasn’t going to say anything”, but when we told her what we got my parents for Christmas and that we just found out that it might be a scam, she confirmed it as one of the stupidest ideas I’ve ever had. She stopped just short of laughing in our faces, bless her heart. Even the name I had chosen for the star — Robertus Gabriellus — was sounding dumber every minute (especially once Tara pointed out that we should have simply named it “R Star”.) While having a good laugh over the whole situation with my grandparents and attempting to talk ourselves out of feeling too bad, we decided we’d try to fix our situation.

And just like that, it was all better. Dia woke me up this morning with the good news — she cancelled the order and we’ve been told by the International Star Rapists to refuse shipment when our pieces of nothing arrive in the mail. We’ve already picked out back-up gifts and I’m set to put the whole thing out of my mind. Dia’s having a little more trouble coming to terms with our stupidity; she won’t even talk about it with me. I don’t blame her, I’m still seeing stars. How, oh how, could I have been so stupid?

There they were, the elusive Gangsta Smurfs, sitting right across the room at Ruby Tuesday’s. The picture is grainy — as is often the case when mythical beasts are caught on film — but it’s proof enough.

We were already in a good mood, me with my giant, four-shot margarita and everyone chowing down on appetizers, waiting for our food. When these two clowns walked in the room and we finally got our laughter under control, Matt had to make a comment about how the guy with his Boo even had the bling bling and a wad of cash, and then we lost if all over again.

The outing was in honor of Dan taking one weekend out of his end-of-semester blitz to visit those of us north of Philly. After a good round of phone tag, we agreed to disagree and meet at the Neshaminy 24 theater and decide what to do later. Even though Dan and his [girl?]friend Kate had a late lunch and Matt wasn’t hungry, we went to hang out and eat while waiting for our different movies to start. (Dan and Kate [who departed even further from our plans to go shopping while we ate] went to see Harry Potter while Matt, Dia and I saw Gangs of New York. Dave just split after eating.) I had a really good time, even though the food wasn’t as tasty as on Friday when we ate right across the road at the Mexican place with Dave, Matt, and Tara before The Two Towers.

The night ended a long day of Christmas shopping for three sisters, two parents, and a Dia, not to mention two grandparents, an aunt and a cousin, and then Dia’s people. We got most of it finished or at least flushed out ideas for the people we didn’t have time to shop for and picked those things up today. Dia even managed to get a pair of shoes for herself, and we spotted some science fiction novels for a buck apiece at a bazaar in the mall. Now I have two pretty relaxing days before all the present wrapping comes undone.

I should have known it was going to be a difficult phone call the second my customer service rep started blabbing about the weather in Levittown. Before I knew it, she was trying to talk me out of dropping my First Protect plan (Read: screwing me out of $22 a month “in case of unforseen events”). Thanks, but I don’t need to get even further in debt to get out of it. On which planet does this idea make any sense at all? If it was a valid program, they would have simply advertised it and people would be beating down the doors to sign up. Instead, I was “automatically enrolled” unless I called by a certain date to opt out.

It was my own damn fault I was too lazy to call right away, but I never bargained for a stupid southern bitch yammering on about the “poor folks down in Mississippi, who ever heard of tornadoes this time of year?…” and so on. At one point she actually said the words, “I can’t unenroll you, but I can reduce certain aspects of the coverage.” At that point, I lost it and just kept repeating “I don’t want the insurance”, “I don’t want the insurance”, “I don’t want the insurance” until she finally said very dryly that a confirmation letter would be sent to me in the mail. Since on can never trust a dummy with a southern drawl, I’ll be sure to call on Monday to make sure the hick really did as she said.

My failed attempt at getting a trip together to see Kevin Meaney with Dan and crew (Meaney is at Caroline’s on Friday) are par for the course this holiday season. My van still isn’t ready, I haven’t been able get much shopping done (most years I have it taken care of pretty early), the network card I put on eBay is only going for a buck, the humidifier I ordered online was shipped back to Kentucky, and my credit card company just billed me $22 for a “protection service” that I don’t need and I can’t get a hold of them to unsubscribe.

Also, having Christmas in the middle of the week is a major pain in the ass. Alex and Steve are spending the whole week in Maryland, and I’ll be stuck in Philly with no-one around except family, and they’ll only be here for the one day. Jeff will be visiting from Japan for the following week, so there will only be one weekend when we’re all home, and the chances of actually getting together are slim. I’ll still have to rush home after work next week just in case.

Instead of a hectic trip to NYC this weekend, I’ll take a hectic shopping trip instead. I need to hit the King of Prussia Mall either tonight or tomorrow for the perfect gift for my grandparents, so I’ll have to see if anyone’s interested in trekking out there with me. (Though not too many, since the van still isn’t ready.) As for this “perfect gift”, I can’t spill the idea to family members who may be reading, but rest assured that it’ll blow all other gifts for them, past and present, right out of the water. The only problem is that it is on the expensive side — even with the $30 rebate it’s well over a hundred bucks — and requires a subscription fee as well. At least I won’t have to pay shipping charges now that i found a store in KoP.

Chris and Lisa’s party last weekend was the bomb, and I’m not just saying that because Chris PayPal-ed me the $30 he owed me.

Lisa went all out with the hors d’ouvres and there was plenty to drink as well. The Festivus Pole went under-utilized, but it wasn’t in the center of the room because she mismeasured by about a foot — an easy thing to do when you’re used to measuring “poles” in millimeters. We still followed through on the other two facets of the holiday: the airing of the grievances and the feats of strength. For the latter (obviously), we made a human pyramid and I did a push-up with Lisa sitting on my back. I kicked off the airing of the grievances with some light-hearted bitching. Everyone had pretty much the same complaint about how some among us moved away from Philly. I’m going to start culling my complaints now so I’m more ready for next year. Besides a nice zing for Greg about how he spent Thanksgiving dinner on the phone with a girl he’s not even banging, and a line about Bridget being too busy with her horses to hang out, my thoughts were pretty generic.

I divided my time pretty evenly between Mario Kart, catching up on gossip, and drinking, but the evening was way too short and I ate way too much. Now that the holidays are effectively over where parties are concerned, I’ve found myself searching for the next excuse to gather again. Maybe a New Year’s party?

I was so happy to get my wheels back after shelling out so much money to get it fixed. So when my van made the same exact sounds when it wasn’t starting on Friday, I got really upset.

I should have just been grateful that I found out during lunch instead of at the end of the day, but I wasn’t. It was difficult to concentrate at work between calling Firestone, then a Firestone near work, then AAA to arrange for towing — all while I was ready to rip someone’s head off yet had to maintain “work Bob” compusure. Since I was such a cheapskate I only signed up for the regular AAA service instead of “Plus”, meaning that I only get three miles of free towing instead of 100. Luckily, it didn’t matter since Firestone ended up footing the bill anyway.

Firestone ended up being really nice about the whole thing. The East Brunswick location fixed the pump for free (the Oxford Valley jackasses installed a defective part), but they found that one of the fuel injectors was leaking and so that’s going to cost another $150 or so — plus, my van won’t be fixed until Tuesday at the earliest.

Except for the free lifetime alignment, I won’t be going back to Firestone anytime soon. My Friday was almost ruined because I thought it would be easer to walk in the rain to meet Dia at Wawa. Instead, I got muddied and wet and almost run over several times. I didn’t have a chance to eat, having spent my lunch break on vehicle arrangements, until 7:30 at Don Pablo’s with Dave and Tara. Things went smoothly from then until Star Trek: Nemesis, which I’m sad to say was one of the worst movies I’ve seen in a long time.

Dia now has to travel all the way up here one day soon to pick up the van, unless I want to leap-frog the 40 miles home by myself.

4 minutes… until my mp3s are done copying to the new G4 sitting on my desk on the other side of the room. I copied the other files last night, and while none of it is taking particularly long I decided to wait until today to do the 5 gigs of mp3s. I spent most of yesterday Christmas shopping so I didn’t have a whole lot of time to set up the computer or printer, discover that OS X software for the scanner isn’t due out for a few more days at least, or play around with iPhoto and the new Elf digital camera. (The only thing I managed to do with the camera is get a nice shot of some 15-year-old’s thong exposed at her waist.)

3 minutes left. Today is going to be hell, so this morning will be the last chance I get to prep my laptop to get my files back from Ryan, Nathan, and The Triangle’s file server. I find out today whether my car is ready; if it is, then my dad doesn’t have to drive up tomorrow but I do have to arrange to pick Dia up in New Brunswick and find someone to help me move my grandparents tomorrow afternoon. If the van is not ready, I’ll have to wake up tomorrow morning to drive Dia to the train station and probably skip Casper’s for the week. Either way, it’s out of my hands which set of problems will arise.

2 minutes. I’ll post more about the weekend’s events later, since for now I have to finish up some minor work like selling the extra ethernet card in the G4 on eBay, shower, shave, and making sure my mp3s all load on my iPod. 5 gigs free will come in handy.

1 minute. My whirlwind day is about to start. I’m not even sure that I can take the day off tomorrow, but I don’t see how it could be a problem. I’ll have to call Lisa to see if she can help, since Tomas has a job as a bike messenger now and Tim is heading up to Boston. Maybe she’ll also have the $30 the owe me. (I haven’t told them yet, but it’s $10 each for the Bond movie we saw at The Bridge, and $10 for taxes on our meal at Caroline’s.) I feel kind of bad since they just threw a swingin’ Festivus party, but not bad enough to not break their kneecaps if they be givin’ tha B any of they whinin’, yo.

About 10 seconds. No rest for the weary.

Work hasn’t been much fun lately. Busy and not in a challenging way, tiresome and not in a satisfying way. I get home and barely have enough energy to write or read. I do find the energy to gorge myself somehow.

The week has gotten better since Monday, but I’m afraid it won’t be fun until next month. So I’ve been having trouble sleeping from a combination of work pressure, disappointment at not having something fun like a newspaper to work on, and deeper questions brought on by recent Isaac Asimov short stories I’ve been reading. Not to mention my ear still hurts. The steroids and nasal spray haven’t started working yet, and I’m not too hopeful that they will anytime soon.

I have had some fun recently, like the trip to see Lewis Black in New York and of course Casper’s on Tuesday. I enjoyed the trip to New York immensely, mainly because of the overall experience. I liked trying my hand behind the wheel in the big apple, the company, the pizza, and the opening acts. Black was Black, and I agree with Chris that seeing him in person probably wasn’t worth the amount of money we spent to see him. Unlike Chris, I think I’ll end up seeing more comedy acts at Caroline’s in the future; it’s a good way to spend a Saturday night regardless of how expensive it is. There’s nothing quite like a quick trip to a real city.

So I’m thankful this weary week is only one day shy of being over. I’m heading home this weekend to pick up the computer; I have to retrieve files from Nathan’s spare hard drive, the Triangle server, and Ryan’s workstation before they all get deleted. Saturday is Lisa’s Festivus party, and the last hurrah until Christmas. Nothing but shopping, worrying, and temptations to eat during the remainder of the holiday season, so I’m counting on this party to help me through the month. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas season yet, hopefully it’ll start with the party.

Hopefully I’ll be more coherent if I write tomorrow.

The verdict is in: The Rudderows are getting a Dell. Helping to soften the blow is the fact that I’m getting a G4.

I want to drive down and pick it up on Sunday, but I’ll have to play it by ear. I’m so excited. Alex is already expecting the G6 movie, and iSync will come in handier than ever. It softens the blow of the van’s price tag, too — I just have to keep repeating to myself that I bought a new computer for $720.

I couldn’t have told you a week ago, but now I am acutely aware. I just spent $720 getting my baby healthy again; that means she’d better put out without any problems for the next three months straight or I’m driving her off a cliff.

The pump itself was only $269, but the total skyrocketed once they factored in labor, the diagnostic test and towing. The lady told me that I could probably call AAA and have them credit me for the tow truck because “I couldn’t get through”; if it’ll save me $55 I’ll take it. The $89 for the battery is a real thorn in the side though. If only they knew to turn the wheel back and forth a little…. Alas.

Well I can’t very well go back to bed now, can I? I just checked the web queries that turned up and were followed to my site.

Among the usual searches for “bobby rudderow”, and one each for “‘Monkey Knife Fight’ Nodding head” (used when Al and I got drunk and the cop asked me if I had been drinking) and “casper’s place”, I found a true gem. Someone has searched for “Crystal Falensky”.

I think everyone must search for their name on the Web at least once, which is why I make sure every name I drop — especially those of the people I hate — is spelled correctly. In this case, though, hate isn’t the problem. My non-sexual crush on this 14-year-old girl from a few years ago might end up coming back to haunt me. I hope her parents have a good sense of humor about me calling their daughter up and recording our conversation. Tee hee.

Despite the potential hazards, I am happy someone found what they were looking for. Too often, searches come back with lame high school stuff or lists of names — in Crystal’s case the “European Cultivated Potato Database”. But here I am, top of the heap, with my audio clip of this poor girl talking to what sounds like a pedophile. I hope the fact that I’m not is a good defense in court.

Wait a minute, here’s a new twist. The second hit for Crystal Falensky on Google is a student ambassadors page from Shippensburg University. I recognize the picture from when Matt showed it to me a few month’s ago. His friend Ellen is posing it it, apparently along with Crystal. I can’t believe I didn’t notice the Falensky angle before. It’s a damn small world: the girl who authored one of the Rudy Raccoon milk carton panels with which I was obsessed … is posing in a photo with my college roommate’s friend’s RA from Shippensburg University! Unless…

Ellen was a plant from the beginning. She could be using Matt to find out for her good friend, Crystal, whether or not I’m a threat. Or…

After I phoned Crystal during my freshman year, Matt went behind my back and called her a second time, established a friendship, and met Ellen through her. It was awfully convenient that Matt chose this weekend to mention how he met Ellen. He must have known that the Falensky angle was going to be exposed. On the other hand…

I probably should have gotten more sleep. I wasn’t supposed to take the antibiotics for my ear while drinking alcohol, so I passed right out last night. I still didn’t get enough sleep, though. I’ll have a chance tonight, when Matt comes over for The Amazing Race, to ask him everything he knows about Shippensburg University. Strange things are afoot there.

At the very least I’m adding a new item to my list of potential band names: The Falensky Angle. That brings the list to a total of two, with Aesthetic Sheep still holding the top spot.

Yesterday — only 12 hours after telling my dad that she was running fine — my van wouldn’t start. I think it was so cold out that it just wouldn’t turn over, and I drained the battery by trying too many times.

I wouldn’t have tried for so long but I thought I had no other choice. It just so happened that Hager stayed over the night before and was leaving at the same time that morning (he usually leaves about an hour after I do). Once I successfully killed my beautiful van, Hager drove me to the train station and dropped me off at Dia’s car. I’m damn lucky we picked that bad boy up two weeks ago.

So for the next few days it’s back to the old routine. I picked Dia up at the Tacony train station last night and went to Casper’s (where we were edged out twice by Tim and Hager [who stayed again last night] in shufflepuck) and Krispy Kreme (where they gave us free donuts). Tonight I have to pick her up again so we can buy jumper cables and hope it’s not too cold outside for the van to start up and drive to Firestone. By Thursday evening everything should be tip top. Except for my right ear, out of which I still can’t hear but for which I have already made a doctor’s appointment.

Time to go to sleep — with the sound of my neighbor trying to start his SUV every 10 minutes. The good news is that if I put my good ear on the pillow, I can’t hear a damn thing.

I’m faced with my first ethical dilemma in a long time.

My parents haven’t been able to get online for about a month now. It’s been a combination of technical ignorance, misdiagnosis, and plain old being busy. The latest theory is that the computer has a bad motherboard since the ethernet card wasn’t the problem.

Rather than take the machine to a computer fixer, my dad’s latest idea is to give me the machine so he can buy a new PC. I’m deeply torn.

On one hand, it shouldn’t be too hard to drive home sometime, pick up the computer to have it fixed, and set it up again. The reasons against getting a PC are numerous especially for a family like mine who doesn’t know how to configure their e-mail. The world also doesn’t need another PC user; OS X is super sweet and leaves very few reasons to try a new operating system.

On the other hand, I could be getting a new G4! All my hard drive worries would be over. I could back up my data right to my other machine, I could download and edit the shows I have saved on my ReplayTV, and finally edit the G6 movie that began filming in ‘96.

Sweet, sweet computing power.

I finished reading Sewer, Gas & Electric last night and it wasn’t as good an ending as I had hoped. Everything wrapped up too neatly and didn’t maintain the excitement that the second part had going for it. Still a good yarn, just not the Favorite Book status that I thought it would reach.

I also checked online to price some of the books I picked up at the book sale. I think I’ll definitely buy as many hardcover books as I can get my hands on at the next one. At the very least, I think I’d like to make a list of books I really don’t like but think I could resell, check Amazon.com to see how much I could sell them for, then head back the next day and pick up whatever is left. I could make $5 profit on all the hardcover books I picked up and chances are I won’t like them enough to keep them anyway.

My most prized posession by far is one that Chris pointed out, Piers Anthony’s Pornucopia. If I had any idea how much it was worth, I probably wouldn’t have lent it out to everybody I knew. Come on, three hundred eighty-five dollars

? Had I only known! Even the paperbacks are going for $350, and here I am with a first edition, jacketed hardcover in excellent condition.

The best part of owning the book isn’t that it’s completely, erotically filthy nor that I got it for free. It’s all about who gave it to me: this prissy, easily offended prude who pretended to like this sort of book so she could fit in at The Triangle and catch the eye of Matt DiFranco. We always knew Jenn Harbell was a flaky bitch trying to slime her way into the pants of a pathological womanizer. It was only a year later, when she found something “offensive” to her delicate sensibilities in the paper, that we realized she made herself up to be someone she wasn’t. I got along great with people at the paper whose beliefs I didn’t share. It came as a surprise, however, when this girl who had given me a copy of Pornucopia ended up writing Letters to the Editor about how offended she was by something moderately pornographic.

I printed her letter, but you can be sure I sent her a few words of my own, former editor to former staffer. She didn’t respond to my comments about joining the paper to be close to DiFranco. The Triangle fit only for birdcages? Lick my smegma, literature major.

Despite being sandwiched between a trip to the ER for my aching ear and bad news about my grandmother this morning, we had a really good time last night. It was a second Thanksgiving feast and everyone who usually enjoys that sort of thing was invited. Patty and Greg left relatively early, Tim came slightly late, and the people who didn’t make it all had acceptable excuses but it’s their loss for missing out. All told, Al, Chris, Greg, JT, Lara, Lisa, Mary, Matt, Pat, Patty, Rob, Ross, Tim, and Tomas came and brought various side dishes and made it a really great affair.

I think for the first time ever my appetite for games was satisfied. We played Uno Attack until Ross arrived with the good games and it was time for dinner, then it was Mario Kart (with rotation!), Apples to Apples, TransAmerica, and Carcassone for hours afterward. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themseleves most of the time, even Matt who fell asleep for a short time right after dinner.

The only downside is the cleanup, and fortunately Dia and I resorted to our usual routine for tackling this problem: We divide the work right down the middle. She takes care of clearing the table, loading the dishwasher, putting away the leftovers, and straightening up. I take care of opening the tupperware and eating the leftovers. Alright, I also cleaned my handy-dandy character glasses since they can’t go in the dishwasher and that pisses Dia off.

My grandmother fell down yesterday while doing laundry in the basement and broke her hip. She went to the emergency room, waited five hours for a bed, and eventually underwent surgery. She’s expected to be home in two weeks, so I’m going to be spending a lot of time at the hospital and on the phone until then. In fact, that’s where I’m heading later this afternoon; hopefully she’ll be awake and ready to have visitors.

I love grandmom and I hope she’s just like new before long. I’ve never had anything devastating happen to our family like a death or anything, so I guess this is the next worse thing. Both of our family’s matriarchs has fallen before, and unlike the other one who bitched and complained for years afterward, this one took it pretty well. She was at the young age of 60 at the time, though; now that she’s 74 it’s a whole new ballgame. Last time all she needed was a cast, now she needed surgery to put pins in. I’ll eventually ask her if I can sign her scar instead, but I don’t think either of us will be in a mood to joke for a while.