January 2005

So, I’m just about to cry right now, which I’ll explain at the end of the post. I knew I should have waited until after I wrote this piss and vinegar post before I opened this box. I was fucking pissed off today. Fucking, fucking pissed off. Fucking internet psychos drive me fucking nuts. I […]

I seem to attract a certain type of psycho, like moth to flame. It goes something like this: boys crawling toward me, prostrate, talking about how they’re not worthy of my glorious time and attention. They scream and cry and reach for me and go, “Strong, smart woman! Fix me! Nurture me! Tell me what

Been a while since I did any of that, huh? I’m pretty backlogged, and I miss writing. I miss my people. If I go two or three months without writing anything substantial, I get a little weird… and I’ve been weird the last couple weeks. Oddly, writing fantasy novels helps keeps me level. I think

Check out, “The Drugs Song.” It’s one of those “useless bullshit” mornings here in Chicago…

For your workday pleasure. via mumpsimus

Fascinating article. A couple of things: yea, at some point, encouraging people to have one kid and having a premium on having boys, you’re eventually going to get into trouble. I was wondering when they’d have to start addressing it: There is such a glut of boys here – roughly 134 are born for every

Straight from boingboing: The Business Software Alliance has put up some materials on why software piracy is bad. The reason they cite to stop piracy is that it keeps the software industry from getting bigger. My cow-orker Seth has revised their copy with several counterexamples to show what a strange proposition this is: Original: Some

Drunken blog posts are like drunken e-mails, only with a far, far bigger audience. You sort of crawl out of bed the next morning and go, “I just posted that to 500 people. Damn.” No more drunken blog posts. Really. I mean it this time. Anyway, lots to do today. In the mean time, movie

At which point, the protagonist thinks: he does not have to be perfect. Just date. Pretend. It does not have to be real. Make something up. Just live in Chicago. Here. Now. Next to me. That’s all. And the protagonist grabs another black russian, and switches out the contacts for glasses, and goes to watch

Going out to dinner with Jenn and the SO tonight. Watching more of Carnivale. Dude, Nick Stahl can be kinda hot, in a broody, guy-next-door kind of way. I’d totally take him home, especially if I caught him reading something equally hot. But I digress. Doing a quick read-through of Margaret Atwood’s Good Bones. Quirky.