March 2005

When I started blogging, I discovered a compulsive need to open the tattered edges of my emotional raincoat and expose the nasty parts beneath. That’s Ayelet Waldman at Salon, touching on the first of several reasons she stopped blogging. I wanted to throw this up here real quick this week because it says so much […]

via Tild

Well, it’s another crazy week. I’ve got lots of backlogged writing to do, and a whole house to clean, and etc. etc. So I’ll see you all on Monday. Have a great week!

Paying a woman to have a kid? You know, considering that the cost of that kid over it’s lifetime is way, way more than 10K, I think it’s a pretty bum deal.

Today was goodie-finding day. After becoming incredibly irate again at the “But if there are so many women bloggers, why doesn’t anybody know about them” thing, I decide to… add more women bloggers to my own woman-blogger site. Why the fuck not. I was cleaning up the blogroll (if I don’t check a site regularly,

What the hell is this? Not only is it pure junk to keep using that stupid BMI formula to calculate a person’s “healthy” weight (it doesn’t take muscle mass into account, bone structure, body struction, etc., so Brad Pitt and George Clooney get classified as “obese” and if you’re applying that shitty formula to this

“My mother is 5?3? and worked as a police officer for ten years. She passed the very same physical fitness tests that the men did, and with little complaint. Every day, for ten years she faced angry truck drivers that were three times her size, and gave them tickets. She did more physically demanding work

I honestly can’t convey just how great it is to be back in the Chicago office. It’s great to be back in Chicago in general. I missed Cyllia and the lead architect (let’s call him Mr. T.), and getting calls from Sarah, and waiting until 10am for Yellow to show up, getting back to creating

“Man [sic] cannot live on beer and the Polish smoked sausage in the fridge alone. Sometimes, he must send out for curry.” – Empire of Dirt

Check it out at Fortean Bureau: “Imagine a farmhouse surrounded by snow. Not a thin layer of soft, flaky whiteness, the kind you might see in more civilized climates–this is Northern Michigan, where the snow falls and falls until it buries the roads, covers the windows, and mounts up before the door. The nearest neighbors