My friend who shattered his vertebra is getting better every day. His voice has pretty much returned and he is moving better, but it is difficult to watch him operate his phone and computer. I still haven't had that heart or the courage to ask him, or his family what his long term prognosis might be.
I never never seen him be anything but old usual self and that has been a tremendous comfort to me. I envy his courage, but I always fear that I might find him sad; I don't know what I could say if he was ever depressed. He never did anything to deserve this, all he did was carpool with his friend home for Christmas.
On the positive side his wedding is coming up, and I still need to foxy box my friend. That came about, because he can't decide between me and my other best friend to be his best man. I know my opponent intends to wear something along the lines of gold hot pants and a matching sports bra which means I might have to one up him by squeezing into a one piece. I strongly suspect that like MAD and the Butter Battle Book, there will be no true winners.
I never never seen him be anything but old usual self and that has been a tremendous comfort to me. I envy his courage, but I always fear that I might find him sad; I don't know what I could say if he was ever depressed. He never did anything to deserve this, all he did was carpool with his friend home for Christmas.
On the positive side his wedding is coming up, and I still need to foxy box my friend. That came about, because he can't decide between me and my other best friend to be his best man. I know my opponent intends to wear something along the lines of gold hot pants and a matching sports bra which means I might have to one up him by squeezing into a one piece. I strongly suspect that like MAD and the Butter Battle Book, there will be no true winners.
My roommate has been on a cleaning spree lately and I wish he'd stop. He hates things looking dirty, but that is quite a bit different from liking things be clean. As long as something isn't in sight he doesn't care, the cabinet below the bathroom sink has become a disgusting repository I refuse to deal with.
He's capable of operating a vacuum as well as the next man, but I really don't trust him to do anything else. He's been overloading the dishwasher so that I have to set half the stuff aside, he uses hand towels or the dish sponge to clean counters, and anything the rest of us have out is hastily stashed in a location that only makes sense to him. I don't like drama so I'm hoping he knocks it off before he ruins another hand towel.
He's capable of operating a vacuum as well as the next man, but I really don't trust him to do anything else. He's been overloading the dishwasher so that I have to set half the stuff aside, he uses hand towels or the dish sponge to clean counters, and anything the rest of us have out is hastily stashed in a location that only makes sense to him. I don't like drama so I'm hoping he knocks it off before he ruins another hand towel.
There has been an angry protest every couple of days at a business about a block away. I can't make out what they're yelling, but it's a real protest with signs, slogans, and lots of angry yelling; it also takes place early in the morning and have been my unpleasant wake up alarm.
Most protests I've seen lately have a handful of people standing behind the same giant banner with the corner that says who they're protesting replaced for each case. I don't know if they all use the same one or buy them from a protest banner business. I hope they're sharing, because it's an unconvincing sign the goes "Shame, shame, shame on whoever" which is the sort of harsh language usually reserved for naughty puppies.
Most protests I've seen lately have a handful of people standing behind the same giant banner with the corner that says who they're protesting replaced for each case. I don't know if they all use the same one or buy them from a protest banner business. I hope they're sharing, because it's an unconvincing sign the goes "Shame, shame, shame on whoever" which is the sort of harsh language usually reserved for naughty puppies.
I finally got a replacement camera cable for my camera so that I can download them to my computer. I had intended to, among other things, to take a place another picture of myself here as a token effort to not be a completely anonymous pervert and to, instead, be a mostly anonymous pervert. It turns out that the battery doesn't charge through the USB and so I must find the battery charger as well. This will take some time.
This summer and last I've heard icecream trucks driving around close by, but never in view. I know they're icecream trucks, because I can hear their metallic, electronic chimes. The thing is they don't play the standard icecream song, but rather songs that are familiar at first and then recognized later. They've been playing twinkle, twinkle little star, frosty the snowman, and others played at half speed apparently trying to disguise their source of music.
It seems as though the icecream song is tradmarked, but it just makes me think that pedophiles are making a half-assed attempt. I saw one of these trucks the other day. It wasn't a big, colorful van with the menu on the side like it aught to be. Instead it was a white rape van, one with the back windows blacked out, and a few vinyl stickers stuck on to let you know that it's supposed to be an icecream truck. It was being driven by an older guy who was leaning back with an arm hanging out the window looking like he was cruising around town trying to pick up women.
It seems as though the icecream song is tradmarked, but it just makes me think that pedophiles are making a half-assed attempt. I saw one of these trucks the other day. It wasn't a big, colorful van with the menu on the side like it aught to be. Instead it was a white rape van, one with the back windows blacked out, and a few vinyl stickers stuck on to let you know that it's supposed to be an icecream truck. It was being driven by an older guy who was leaning back with an arm hanging out the window looking like he was cruising around town trying to pick up women.
These last couple of weeks have been busy, but two weeks ago I ran a half marathon. Every couple of miles along the trail are volunteers with cups of water, Gatorade, and orange wedges. There are garbage cans in the area, but at best only half of the runners stop and throw the cups away and the others drop them where ever they finish. The second group to do this was a local Indian tribe. Indians were giving out cups of water and strewn about for the next fifty feet or so were several hundred cheap, disposable dixie cups. Any time I think of the race I just end up thinking about that old sad Indian (Italian) commercial.
