This is another entry to the category “the reason I don’t spend more of my precious time constructing scintillating posts for you to peruse instead of playing Bang Howdy. It’s a deep and shameful secret but I’m feeling the need to confess so hold on to your britches (that’s the Bang Howdy coming out). You see the problem is my computer… she’s just not as young as she used to be. The computer at work on the other hand…

I know I know. You’re shocked that I would openly admit to an affair with a colleague but let me tell you… she has two gigs of memory! Do you know what Firefox can do with two gigs of memory? Do you? I often go multiple hours without having to restart it! It’s as if my browser is on wheels!! Yes… that’s right I used two exclamation points but I think it was worth it boys and girls. And let me tell you, not only am I experiencing browsing at lightning speeds at work but I can load Adobe Photoshop in less than 5 minutes. Whoa. That’s right. Fonts and all.

Am I exaggerating? Absolutely. But not much. The weeny little half gig I’ve known and loved for years just isn’t doing it in the face of 28 browser extensions (bet you’re wondering what they are) and a Windows Messenger that refuses to accept the fact that I want nothing to do with it. So I’m memory impaired. And until I get some fresh circuity goodness, this will stand as the reason I don’t blog unless I really feel like blogging. As if I really needed a reason.

Hi Internet,

I like to think that I ask for very little from life (highspeed internet, ice water with lemon and post-it notes) but nothing makes me feel spoiled like sitting in my apartment for 6 hours with no air. If you never see this post, it’s because my computer spontaneously combusted and/or I went crazy and attacked my air conditioner with my cordless drill (which can only be used as a blunt object since the great deal I got it for didn’t include a charger for the battery. Go me.)

It is, in a word, sticky in here. I could go on about this but despite the title of this post, that’s not why I’m here. I just thought the title would be cute.
Recently I’ve been doing a lot of things that don’t involve posting… like reading great books, finding beautiful websites, playing good games and agonizing over unanswerable questions (like at what point does orange become too bright?, when will someone invent a machine to convert brain waves to scores? and where did I just put my keys?). I do love my little corner of the web and I do want to see it flourish and grow and gain the attention of multi-billionaires who will want to buy it from me so I can chuckle at them and wave my standards in their faces… well. anyway. I need to translate some of what I’m doing into pixels. So what, oh reader, would you like to see.

Please temper suggestions with the knowledge that my writing tanks if I try to take it seriously at all. Of course it’s not so great when I don’t so perhaps you have nothing to worry about.

I leave you with that thought to ponder. I’m not sure what thought since I’m so not proof-reading this. You get all of joys of my run-ons , mis-spellings, comma splices and sentence ending prepositional phrases. Proofing is definitely an air conditioned task only. Except for that last sentence because, boy, was that bad. But that’s it. No scrolling for you.

If you don’t hear from me for the rest of the week, call my mother and tell her I melted.

…to tell everyone that can’t get their favorite (or non favorite) flash sites working in the newly “secured” IE to switch to firefox and never look back.

I don’t have time for this bullshit.

A coworker of mine (who shall remain nameless) gave me one of these page-a-day calendars after I sent out several emails (and posted a couple of announcements) with dates that were either far in the future or long past. Unfortunately, since it’s just one he had lying around, the calendar is “Medical Blooper: A Chuckle A Day from the Medical Community” and not at all relevant to me.

Let me tell you that “the Medical Community” is so depressingly not “a chuckle a day” that I feel like catching a cab to the airport, buying a ticket, getting on a plane, catching a cab to “the Medical Community” headquarters and slapping them in the face. I imagine them being in Portland. Here’s an example

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How do you justify being an officer of the law and punching a 60 something year old man in the head? What kind of person makes catcalls as he watches it happen? What kind of government puts humans in a situation that makes this sort of incident likely?

I appreciate good police officers and what they do and how incredibly under-appreciated they are. I can understand that disasters I’m glad no one is dead. But responsibility is a bitch and I don’t care how stressed you were… you are always accountable for your actions.