In which Iolo becomes Jesus and the Avatar learns the mantra for the Virtue of Cannibalism (”YUM”).
This is by far the greatest validation the Lazarus project could have ever hoped for.
I have a helium balloon given to me at work for my birthday. The boss’s secretary does this. She’s a woman of strict protocol, and birthdays mean a balloon tied to a candy bar left on someone’s desk. Hers came late in the day, so it was punctuated by, “Thought I forgot, dintcha?”
I gave the candy bar away and took the balloon home. The balloon is two weeks old now, and losing its helium. There are various air currents traveling through my apartment in an attempt to keep me and perishable electronics from melting in the summer heat (it got up to 100 yesterday, which was enough for the state power regulatory board to declare rolling blackouts for most of the state, and they might decide to do it again today.)
The balloon bobs up and down as its helium dissipates, occasionally traveling on the air currents upwards, to the ceiling. My ceiling, at least the part above the nook where my coffeepot lives, is dominated by the ceiling fan. Which beats it with plywood blades of righteous force. Thwap thwap THWAP.
I’m over 30. I am losing my bouyancy. It occurs to me that my remaining years will pass in a similar fashion.
Keeping it all in links, because these are big photos.
New chair. Replacing the old one. It’s cloth rather than pleather, and it doesn’t recline. The arms are padded, like the old ones weren’t, but I can already tell it’s not going to dissipate heat very well. I guess this is what you get for an $80 chair these days.
Here’s the old one again, after a trip down the stairs. It fell well.
Final look. Thanks for four years, you old bastard.
New laptop. It’s purty even not turned on. Assuming my car’s fixed in time, I can take it in for a memory upgrade on Monday. If my car isn’t fixed by then, I might need a ride into work. Sigh. Oh well, more things to do at home while I’m stuck here.
Got up early and went to work on my day off for a party to say goodbye to a reporter who’s leaving. The day before I’d laid out a story about a local computer reseller that I’d seen on my way to work several times before, but had never entered. Not that I really need a new computer, but I could maybe use a laptop for all the freelance writing and note-taking I might be doing…
Right in the middle of the store, a Sony Vaio laptop. The kind with the 17-inch “widescreen” monitor, Pentium 4 2.4Ghz CPU, DVD/CD-R, 512M RAM, and so on. $999. Found out it was a trade-in from someone who wanted a gaming rig. A few scratches here and there, but it had been taken care of. Wow, that monitor’s pretty. Oh, if I bring it in Monday you’ll take the RAM up to a gig?
So my credit card has $1,083 on it, and I drive around to get a new mouse for my regular computer, because the one I have’s been acting up. Get that, and just a few blocks from home, I stop at an intersection.
My engine dies. Turn the key, engine turns over, no start.
Nice lady and co-worker who happen to be right there where I needed them help push my car across the busy intersection to a 7-Eleven parking lot. I call a tow truck and get a recommendation for a mechanic. Crap, holiday weekend, will anyone be around? Yeah, here’s one. Guy behind the counter is named Angel and has a big gold cross and lots of other chains around his neck.
Someone might be trying to tell me something. Or not.
Another co-worker drives me home. I find my new chair is ready to be picked up at the office. Without a car, I have to walk it the quarter-mile back.
Hoping your day was nicer. Whoever you are.
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Oh well, I didn’t really feel like working for free anyway. And I don’t even live in Austin! Goddamn, what was I thinking?
Here’s about the most creative way I’ve heard of to spin not wanting to pay for a colorist on half a print run. Though I should say this is one of my favorite new comics, with one of my favorite writers and a damned good artist.
It even has a theme song.
I don’t remember it being about moonshine jugs. (I think this is a very elaborate joke, given that none of the links on the page actually work and near as I can tell, it’s actually served on Take2-owned servers, but damned if I know what it means.)
I think I’ve had it four years now. Got it on sale at a Kmart in Paris, Texas that was closing. Had to assemble it myself. The arms aren’t padded, and the pleather covering is only so pliable that it can be gradually torn apart by me sitting on it. Yes, that’s duct tape, which feels marginally better than shards of disintegrating chair. The beer is Fat Tire.
I guess I need to get myself a birthday present tomorrow.
I turn 30 on Thursday, April 6.