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Is that the sec­ond sea­son of Dead Like Me in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?“
I fin­ished watch­ing the first sea­son a cou­ple of days ago and fin­ished the day-and-a-half down­load of the sec­ond sea­son last night while I slept. (Thank you, BitTorrent+Google!) It took a few min­utes to copy into the iPod, where it rests at present. I almost have the first four episodes transcoded to MPEG2 and should have a basic DVD authored and burned before I go home today. Yeay for tech­nol­ogy!

I have been a space cadet all week. Sure, I have been pro­duc­tive, but have been a bit out of phase with the world. Eric's chow­der thing last night was great, but I sort of felt like I was just there tak­ing up space, star­ing glassy-eyed, lis­ten­ing, but not con­tribut­ing to the con­ver­sa­tion going on around me. Eric: I need to get that chow­der recipe from you. That was super-tasty and not, as Natalie aptly put it, clam-chowder-pudding.

Kim's recent entry reminded me of an entry I for­got to make on Monday, when my car was a frozen block of ice. No, really. Frozen. Heck, it was more frozen than my old car in Boston. Sure, a num­ber of people's cars were cov­ered in ice, but I think the com­bi­na­tion of it hav­ing a thin con­vert­ible top with the fact that I drove it late the pre­vi­ous night with the heater on super-high might have also con­tributed. The wind­shield had a thick layer of ice on both the inside and out­side, but I did not notice the ice on the inside at first because I could not actu­ally get the door open for sev­eral min­utes. In the 15 min­utes it took to clear enough ice, between chip­ping and the defroster, to at least get the wipers to work, I was also able to chip enough ice away from the side win­dows to get those to open, too, with­out too much whine from their motors. Overall, it took an extra 25 min­utes to get the car dri­vable enough to get to work (dri­vable enough == side win­dows down, caus­ing the dri­ver to be frozen beyond belief, less than half the front win­dow unob­structed, no vis­i­bil­ity out the back window–overall fairly unsafe.)

Tonight, I think I take down the Christmas tree. I have a feel­ing that peo­ple will be putting them out with the trash/recycling tomor­row.

The Burt's Bees almond-smelling hand lotion is great. It really mois­tur­izes and smells good when you put it on. Half-way through the day when you get an unex­pected whiff of it on your hands, taken out of con­text of any­thing else... “what the HELL is that strange smell on my hands???” It actu­ally becomes sort of a bad smell, for me at least, because I do not imme­di­ately rec­og­nize it as almonds–or as any­thing else, for that mat­ter.

Ebenezer, if he has not been bathed in a cou­ple of weeks, gets a dis­tinct odor. I have been able to rec­og­nize the smell as one I have smelled before, but have been unable to place it. I think I have finally been able to pin it down. His slightly dirty, slightly sweaty funk smells very, very sim­i­lar to horses I believe.

Listening to cer­tain Underworld songs (“Rez,” in par­tic­u­lar) is very con­ducive to dri­ving home from work at 90mph, whether or not you actu­ally real­ize you are dri­ving at dan­ger­ous speeds on slightly curvy, slightly damp roads.

Posted in: Dear Diary Music Television

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