Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Being a brief account of my day Drinking water out of my large mug makes me feel slightly more sophisticated than I feel when I drink it out of my plastic sports bottle. I had to discard the bottle because it started developing this weird funky smell, and I was afraid that I was ingesting some sort of mutant bacteria, so I pitched the thing and went with the mug. Missed The Amazing Race last night because we had to deal with weathermen masturbating frantically over the potential for a tornado in a remote county only barely in our viewing area. They stayed with the weather for well over an hour, showing the same computer maps and repeating the same information ad infinitum. Fuckers. As far as I can tell, no tornado materialized, and the weather doesn't seem to have made the front page of washingtonpost.com, so it looks like all the frantic prayers of the weathermen to get a nice juicy tornado were all in vain. Today is the Bemo's 39th birthday, much to his chagrin. We're going to celebrate by going to Kaiser and finally getting my blood drawn for my physical next Monday, and then going out to eat somewhere. He's not much thrilled about creeping up on forty, although he isn't as upset as his father was when that worthy turned 35. Apparently he retired to his room for the entire day, pleading a migraine, so he wouldn't have to deal with people wishing him a happy birthday. Reading the Jane Austen mysteries by Stephanie Barron, and finding them a pleasure, which is a little surprising. I generally don't expect much from the majority of modern writers who are trying to capture a long-gone age, because most of them simply can't. But Barron is doing a good enough job to keep me interested, and so I'm very happy with them. Plus, there aren't any glaring errors that I can spot (not that I would, because I am hardly an Austen scholar, but then if there were errors it would mean that they were particularly egregious.) I still haven't returned to my Harry Potter fic, which shows you how big a baby I am. How did it get to be eleven? It feels like I just walked in the door. Damn, I've got things to go do. Elderly women in sensible shoes wearing sashes and pins are depending on me. 10:43 a.m. - 2003-07-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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