Mishaps and other haps

Well, my favorite pants have gone to the place that all good (and bad) pants go to eventually– the dumpster. They were olive green cargo pants, size 30X32, purchased in the men’s department at Old Navy.

For the past five years or so, I have worn the hell out of them. I made them match everything, probably to the dismay of my friends and other acquaintances who associated with me in public.

The hem frayed. I cut through the fabric and let them fray more.

The button threatened to fall off. I sewed the button back on.

But alas, they finally developed a hole in the crotch.

I wore them anyway for a while, but I finally decided that as much as I like my underwear, it is designated for a select viewing audience.

So my favorite pants were tossed last night, after one more good, hard wearing.

I have been looking for a replacement pair, but so far no luck.

Spruce, the Dwarven cleric I am playing in our Eberron game, must have been trying to compensate for something last night.

He was almost out of spells, which was not good because we were surrounded by about 30 airship pirates (think “Castle in the Sky” or “Porco Rosso”, minus the schoolgirls). So he pulled out his +1 longsword and just started hitting things. And critting and hitting … And critting and hitting again. He didn’t really do that much damage at a time, but he hardly ever missed.

Pretty much everyone got pounded in that battle, but we cleaned up and levelled. So it’s time to go into town and buy some things before we put the smackdown on that thing that Spruce hasn’t been able to identify yet because he has been repeatedly blowing his Knowledge Religion checks (could be that whole 8 INT thing).

Maybe deep down he’s really more of a fighter than a cleric … well, I guess there’s not too much of a difference if you worship Dol Dorn.

If you have a friend or relative who is a health care worker, give them a hug the next time you see them. Those people work damn hard every day.

When I first saw Moulin Rouge a while back I complained to Mlitiagrl that although I liked the musical comedy aspects of the movie, I couldn’t really buy into the love story.

Last night, I saw a movie that was better all-around in this department. (I think I am mostly drawing a comparison because I saw a large chunk of Moulin Rouge again the other night, not because the two movies have much in common.)

If you have not seen Children of a Lesser God, it’s a worthwhile movie to check out.

This is going to be a kind of weird post, but no weirder than normal.

Since plastic surgery is such an easy and popular thing now and all sorts of bits are being constructed and reconstructed, I am surprised that the demand for extra arms and legs has not picked up.

I was just thinking about this issue the other day because Mlitiagrl and TheLarry were counting on their fingers in binary and Mlitiagrl figured out how far you can count with 2 hands and (an assumed) 10 fingers.

So then I asked her to figure out how far you could count if you had an extra finger on each hand and she poked her calculator a bit.

But then I thought that if you really wanted to count on your hands in binary a LOT, it would be useful to have some extra hands. Maybe 2 or 4 extras, to ensure even coverage.

If you ever got tired of counting in binary, you could use the hands to stir soup or pet kitties.

It just seems like a good idea.

Mlitiagrl is going to visit relatives for a week and possibly collect 30 bags of algae!

While I am looking forward to the nutritious blue-green pancakes that could possibly result from this expedition, I imagine that coherent, organized activity is going to be in short supply for the next week or so.

We will look forward to your return, Mlitiagrl!

I felt bad about stopping the game (Inle’s D&D campaign) last night. We are about to run an errand for a priest and it seemed like a decent place to stop, though. It was 11:30 and unfortunately, the tired was starting to imbed itself into my skull and I could feel the deranged irritability taking hold. Sorry if I started sounding a little snappy. Thank you for running, Inle– I really do appreciate having multiple excuses to see people and roll dice during the week!

Sexy choirboys.

If you haven’t guessed from the subject line, I have been assembling spanakopita this morning. It will be baked and served sometime this evening at Mlitiagrl and Inle’s apartment.

I HOPE SOME PEOPLE ARE THERE WHO LIKE SPANAKOPITA BECAUSE IT WILL BE TASTY!

Ah, now I know why I have been thinking about college days lately (I’m usually more of a think-ahead person than a think-back person).

I have been cleaning out another chunk of old personal writing.

As I sit by the shredder, feeding its endless appetite with page after page, I have been reading some of the things I wrote ten years ago and I am genuinely embarrassed. Sometimes, I am a little amused, though.

For example, journal entry for January 12, 1995 begins with the sentence:

“On the second day of class, some guy asked me if I would beat him with whips.”

I blundered into that situation perfectly innocently. My nineteen-year-old self provided a smart-ass comeback that significantly lowered Some Guy’s rank with the male portion of the classroom. All was good. I just read about it ten minutes ago. Yay, go me!

It’s good I wrote it all down because I never would have remembered it again.

Then again, I like having a myopic view of the past. Everything is blurred and blunted, petty feelings are forgotten. Bygones are Bygones. Yeah. That’s why I’m OK with shredding.

Besides, nineteen-year-old defaultlisa seems less uptight and pompous, too, when the evidence is destroyed. And we need to be nice to nineteen-year-old defaultlisa because we don’t really have a new and improved version– just patches.

“We’re taking the dog to the vet tomorrow.”

“Which one?”

“C.B.” (their 6 month old puppy)

“Oh, what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s a boy!”