This, that, and some of the other.
Well, now, it's been an age and a day since I've posted. I don't know quite what my problem is other than writing a blog seems to smack of tiresome self-importance or a desire to inflict my le train train quotidien upon all and sundry which, frankly, makes for boring reading, viz.
6.45a - woke up
6.46a - hit "snooze" and dozed off
6.56a - jerked out of my pleasant doze by NPR recounting horrors in Darfur
6.57a - staggered out of room and into the lav, perform daily ablutions
7.3a - shrugged on clothing
7.9a - legged it out door, down stairs, and out of building to catch Metro.
7.11-8.3a - enjoyed terrors of daily Metro commute to office.
8.5a - 4.55p - work with its accompanying delights, joys, drudgeries, and irritants.
4.56p - 5.54p - further experiencing of Metro horrors on commute home.
5.55p - 6p - avoid strange homeless people and other human dregs that float about by my apartment building courtesy of the crisis centre next door.
6.1p - 6.3p - check to see if the ghettovator 900 is working, realize it isn't, stagger up five flights of stairs
6.5p -11p - home, dinner, dorking about, reading, bed.
Whee! What excitements!
Anyway, short version of what's going on:
Found out my dad has a really rare form of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma that has a 90% survival rate. Although, the fact that they're already talking of survival rates in percentages bothers me considerably. Mom's upset, we're all upset. Waiting for Dad to see the oncologist and have more tests performed.
Did not bother to go see And One. Kind of regret it now. Still, I hate El Corazon and all ages shows. Worst Venue Evarrr! Why we, as adults, should be treated like dangerous and wild animals that need to be kept corralled is beyond me. You'd think that they'd keep the cretinous youths locked away from us and give us more space to roam about in since... surprise! We have jobs and aren't minors. God knows that coming into contact with teenaged boy sweat is not high on most sane adults lists of Important Things To Do. But, I digress.
I bought a new divan. Whee.
My thirtieth birthday is next Sunday se'nnight. I have no idea what the devil I want to do, really.
Anyway, on the off chance that you may be contemplating gifts. Don't, please. I really do not need anything.
6.45a - woke up
6.46a - hit "snooze" and dozed off
6.56a - jerked out of my pleasant doze by NPR recounting horrors in Darfur
6.57a - staggered out of room and into the lav, perform daily ablutions
7.3a - shrugged on clothing
7.9a - legged it out door, down stairs, and out of building to catch Metro.
7.11-8.3a - enjoyed terrors of daily Metro commute to office.
8.5a - 4.55p - work with its accompanying delights, joys, drudgeries, and irritants.
4.56p - 5.54p - further experiencing of Metro horrors on commute home.
5.55p - 6p - avoid strange homeless people and other human dregs that float about by my apartment building courtesy of the crisis centre next door.
6.1p - 6.3p - check to see if the ghettovator 900 is working, realize it isn't, stagger up five flights of stairs
6.5p -11p - home, dinner, dorking about, reading, bed.
Whee! What excitements!
Anyway, short version of what's going on:
Found out my dad has a really rare form of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma that has a 90% survival rate. Although, the fact that they're already talking of survival rates in percentages bothers me considerably. Mom's upset, we're all upset. Waiting for Dad to see the oncologist and have more tests performed.
Did not bother to go see And One. Kind of regret it now. Still, I hate El Corazon and all ages shows. Worst Venue Evarrr! Why we, as adults, should be treated like dangerous and wild animals that need to be kept corralled is beyond me. You'd think that they'd keep the cretinous youths locked away from us and give us more space to roam about in since... surprise! We have jobs and aren't minors. God knows that coming into contact with teenaged boy sweat is not high on most sane adults lists of Important Things To Do. But, I digress.
I bought a new divan. Whee.
My thirtieth birthday is next Sunday se'nnight. I have no idea what the devil I want to do, really.
Anyway, on the off chance that you may be contemplating gifts. Don't, please. I really do not need anything.
Labels: Le train train quotidien, Shows, Thoughts, weirdness
posted by The Wicked Brian of the West at 12:49 PM
2 comments
