Tag Archives: sick

Like Clockwork

I took some vaca­tion days off of work to turn this week­end into a 5-day vaca­tion (Friday through Tuesday). The plan was to go camp­ing at the coast. We made our reser­va­tion months ago[1]. We made some last minute acqui­si­tions ear­lier in the week (we were lack­ing in the lantern and water jug depart­ment). I got myself a topo map of the area. We were set to go.

Half-way through the day on Thursday, I had to leave work early, due to a stom­ach ill­ness. Friday (the day we were sup­posed to leave at noon), I was lying down all day. By mid­day Saturday, I was start­ing to feel much bet­ter — able to leave the house, even — and began to cob­ble together pos­si­ble plans to sal­vage the vaca­tion week­end with Kim. There was no way we’d get our camp­site, since we had missed the check-in dead­line, but what about a trip to the coast of a dif­fer­ent sort? A night or two at a bed and break­fast? A day trip to the aquar­ium? The cheese fac­tory? The beach?

Of course, Saturday was the day Kim started to feel sick. That is the way things oper­ate around here: one of us recov­ers just in time for the other to get sick. It works out nicely, though. She was car­ing for me when I was sick and now I’m car­ing for her. As awk­ward as the tim­ing may be, it makes being sick pleas­ant (well, less-unpleasant) for the both of us.

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[1] In Oregon, and pos­si­bly else­where in the coun­try these days, you often have to make camp­ing reser­va­tions up to 6 months in advance. Now that any­one with a web browser can reserve a spot, the days of just dri­ving out to the camp­sites on a whim and find­ing a spot are long gone. It used to be that if a pop­u­lar site was full, the ranger would radio a lesser known camp­ground a few miles down the road and find out for you that they had avail­able space. Now, when one is full, they’re all full.

Posted in: Dear Diary

Apologies: in retrospect and in advance

First off, I have to apol­o­gize in both ret­ro­spect and advance if I have been snippy, stressed, or overly emo­tional. I have been on some steroids recently that affect my blood pres­sure and stress lev­els, among other things. If you take noth­ing else away from this post, remem­ber that I am not cur­rently act­ing like myself and keep that in mind when deal­ing with me in the next week or two.

I do not usu­ally share a lot of per­sonal details on this blog. Emotional states other than “happy” are typ­i­cally left to my offline life. So why am I break­ing that tra­di­tion here? Because some of this is so ludi­crous and embar­rass­ing it feels ther­a­peu­tic to share and make fun of. Be warned that the rest of this entry con­tains emo­tions as well as one thing that can be filed under “too much infor­ma­tion.” More infor­ma­tion than you require, even. If this scares you, you can skip to the last para­graph and be none the worse for wear. You have been warned.

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Since September, I have had some weird med­ical stuff going on in my body that has been dif­fi­cult to diag­nose and dif­fi­cult to fix. The exact details are both gross and unim­por­tant. The impor­tant thing is that, after bounc­ing around through sev­eral doc­tors, I am basi­cally all bet­ter except for one thing that just won’t heal. This leads up to last week’s doc­tor visit. Remember when I men­tioned “too much infor­ma­tion?” It’s not too late to stop read­ing. Really, if you’re even start­ing to hes­i­tate, just skip to the last para­graph. Let us just say that it was an uncom­fort­able and humil­i­at­ing expe­ri­ence involv­ing being naked and face-down on a table while being exam­ined with an anal-probe, not unlike a 6-inch plex­i­glass dildo. Under the right cir­cum­stances, such a prob­ing might not have been unpleas­ant, but it felt pretty bad then and there. And hon­estly, I think the emo­tions that flooded in with the wip­ing up after­ward may have been worse. I haven’t been wiped by an adult since I was a baby in dia­pers — cer­tainly never as an adult. So already, before pre­scrip­tions, there were some bad emo­tions float­ing around. Embarrassment, vio­la­tion, use­less­ness, mor­tal­ity, and likely oth­ers murky enough as to be dif­fi­cult to name.

As treat­ment, I started tak­ing the steroids [up my ass, by the way, the steroids go inside my but­t­hole!], and I was kind of punchy for the first cou­ple of days. Maybe a bit more ani­mated. As best as I can tell, a dis­cus­sion I had walk­ing home on Saturday about some self-destructive habits I had as a late-teen/early-twenty-something led to an extremely unpleas­ant dream Saturday night/Sunday morn­ing. Then on Sunday I really noticed I was start­ing to feel amiss. I was extremely short-tempered and any num­ber of lit­tle things caused me to snap. Totally out of char­ac­ter. I have always been the calm, ground­ing touch­stone for peo­ple around me.

Do you know that feel­ing when you are about to speak in pub­lic, the butterflies-puking-in-your-stomach feel­ing? That was today. All of today. From wak­ing up to right now this sec­ond, as I type this. I have been on edge, but self-aware enough to tem­per out­bursts. In fact, I had a quick dis­cus­sion with my boss this morn­ing, alert­ing him to the fact that I may not be act­ing like myself. Even though it was only a minute or two and pretty straight­for­ward and matter-of-fact, I felt I had to exer­cise a lot of self con­trol to stop tears from welling up toward the end of that. Tears! For a lit­tle bit of chit-chat that amount to the first two sen­tences at the top of this post.

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The good news is that I think I am self-aware enough now that I can con­trol my overblown stress and feel­ings. Even though it may feel a bit emo­tion­ally and phys­i­cally unpleas­ant, there’s no ben­e­fit to unleash­ing that on unsus­pect­ing bystanders. The other good news is that despite the side-effects, the treat­ment seems to be work­ing, and that in and of itself is totally worth it. The side-effects pale in com­par­i­son to being sick for 10 months.

Posted in: Dear Diary

The paradox of being sick

Maybe para­dox is not quite the right word for what I want to say and ironic, in the dic­tio­nary sense, is not either. The Alanis Morissette def­i­n­i­tion of irony is a bit more close. But putting the exact word­ing aside, I find the para­dox of being sick is that you have all the time in the world, but zero focus, drive, or moti­va­tion.

I am home from work, as I was yes­ter­day, and have a whole day to myself. Some of the more inter­est­ing projects on my to-do list include work­ing on more Project Euler prob­lems and (re-)learning Objective-C to start writ­ing iPhone apps (I have a great book and videos of Stanford lec­tures on the sub­ject), but I can­not do any of it. Sitting down to write this blog post is hard enough. Making lunch has a vari­able scale — nuk­ing soup from a can is fine, mak­ing a spamwich is tax­ing. 140 char­ac­ter com­plaints via Twitter is about right, as far as men­tal abil­ity goes. Half-sleeping through episodes of the first sea­son of Star Trek is per­fect. If only I had some Gilligan’s Island and I Love Lucy to mix things up a bit. I could load them all into iTunes on the Mac Mini, along with some episodes from our Twilight Zone discs, hit shuf­fle, and have a “Brian Is Sick” chan­nel of all the day­time syn­di­ca­tions I’d watch as a kid.


Posted in: Dear Diary

Can’t eat, clowns will sleep me.

Three lit­tle pill bot­tles, lined up like sol­diers.

  • One is used to treat anthrax.
  • Two cause nau­sea.
  • One treats nau­sea.
  • Three cause drowsi­ness.
  • Two go with food.
  • One goes with lots and lots of water.
  • All three cause drowsi­ness.
  • One is not to be com­bined with expo­sure to sun­light.
  • One is not to be com­bined with alco­hol.
  • Three cause dizzi­ness.
  • Three cause drowsi­ness.
Posted in: Dear Diary


Everybody knows that songs can trig­ger emo­tional reac­tions. Do you have any songs that trig­ger a phys­i­cal reac­tion? I do. I really like the song “My Blue Heaven.” A cover of that song wasn’t the sole rea­son for pick­ing up a Smashing Pumpkins boxed set (the one with the lit­tle lunch­box han­dle) back in the day, but was a con­tribut­ing fac­tor. Between the time I got the discs and the time I was able to start lis­ten­ing to them I came down with a nasty flu: an extremely high fever, aches and pains, and I think I was even a lit­tle deliri­ous. To this day, that par­tic­u­lar ver­sion of the song gives me ghost pains. Even a ver­sion of the song by a dif­fer­ent artist can some­times trig­ger a sim­i­lar reac­tion.

Tonight as I was clean­ing up around the cof­fee maker, I bumped it. I guess this caused it to lose power for a sec­ond, caus­ing the dis­play to beep and flash “88:88″. For a split sec­ond, my action-movie-conditioned brain kicked over to “flight” mode. And then I real­ized it was just a cof­fee maker and it’s now flash­ing “12:00″ not count­ing down to minimum-safe-distance.

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People have asked why I cut my hair. There were a lot of rea­sons, stack­ing up over a few months, but I never sat down to enu­mer­ate them in writ­ing. I was ready for a change. I was tired of get­ting lumped into a par­tic­u­lar stereo­type. It was get­ting in the way. In the fic­tional world of Lemony Snicket, Violet could tie her hair back with a rib­bon and start tin­ker­ing with things. In the real world of Brian, I find that I am increas­ingly work­ing with or on equip­ment or in posi­tions where the hair just gets in the way, even tied back. It was hot. On the first nasty day of the sum­mer, I was up on Hawthorne and almost strolled into Bishop’s and told them to chop it off. Driving with the top down, even with a pony­tail, causes the hair to get tan­gled and knot­ted. After wash­ing the hair in the morn­ing and tying it back for work, parts of it were still damp after work. Those are just a few rea­sons off the top of my head.

Posted in: Dear Diary Music



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I was going to post a cou­ple of pic­tures, but real­ized that there were a num­ber in my queue that have not yet been uploaded or posted. Here are some inside snow movies: Ebenezer try­ing to get birds, and two cats try­ing to squeeze into one igloo.

The next pictures/videos are from the hill next to the ceme­tery. It’s basi­cally a bunch of PSU kids on total ghetto sleds (card­board wrapped in garbage bags, trash­can lids, sheets of roof­ing, and one was even rid­ing a cooler!), a few snow­bor­ders, a cou­ple of skiers, and a whole bunch of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

And finally, the pic­tures I orig­i­nally wanted to post. First, I have to say that I really enjoy hav­ing foods in the kitchen with English on one side and a non-western lan­guage on the other. We have a bunch of stuff from Uwajimaya, but this par­tic­u­lar pic­ture is olive oil from a small Mediterranean gro­cery store down on Stark and about 80th-ish.

These last cou­ple of days, I have been sick. I think I caught the cold that Kim had ear­lier in the week. Yesterday, I made a nice big pot of chicken noo­dle soup. It is not the watery junk you get from a Campbell’s can. It is so packed with tasty things that it resem­bles stew more than it does soup.

The recipe is pretty sim­ple, not ter­ri­bly exact, and takes sev­eral hours. Start with one of those freshly baked rotis­serie chick­ens they sell at the gro­cery store. Throw the whole thing in a big pot of water or broth (or both, depend­ing on what you have avail­able.) I usu­ally use two of those card­board soy-milk-sized con­tain­ers of broth. Bring that to a boil, then down to a sim­mer, and let it sim­mer for an hour or two. The meat should be falling off the bones and the larger chunks of meat should be start­ing to fall apart into smaller chunks. Pick out as many bones as you can. There will still be a few bones in there, but that’s okay. It makes eat­ing the soup more chal­leng­ing and fun. Throw in what­ever hearty veg­eta­bles you have on hand. (This time, I used car­rots, cel­ery, and red onions. Corn would have been good, too. I would have throw in pota­toes, but Kim protested.) Let that sim­mer until the veg­eta­bles are tender–maybe 30 min­utes? Then throw in del­i­cate veg­eta­bles (mush­rooms, in this case) and egg noo­dles. Let it con­tinue until the noo­dles are cooked (maybe 10 more min­utes?) and you’re ready to serve.

Continuing with the sick tips: my favorite “get to sleep” tinc­ture when sick is to take a cup of boil­ing water, then throw in a splash or two or three of Pastis, stir­ring between each splash. When it reaches that milky green/yellow color, like Absinthe, it’s ready to go. The med­i­c­i­nal smell and taste is great for my nose and throat and the alco­hol con­tent make for quick sleepy-time.


Posted in: Food Pictures Portland

Can't sleep. Clowns will wheeze on me.

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Last night, I felt well enough to go to yoga after hav­ing skipped out on it last week due to sick­ness. While there, I UNLEASHEDWRATH OF... hmmmm... what was it again? FURY? No, that wasn't it. FEAR! No, not that, either. Oh yeah: PHLEGM! Phlegm was jarred loose from places that I was not even aware were still con­gested. Consequently, I spent the night hack­ing up a lung instead of sleep­ing.

Posted in: Dear Diary

Red! No — Blue! Aaaaarrrrgggghhhhh.....

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The rental peo­ple called yes­ter­day say­ing that some­one will be around to paint the house Thursday and Friday. They also called to say that no, they would not be paint­ing, but re-roofing on Thursday and Friday. Today (Wednesday), peo­ple showed up to work on the roof. This is the same rental com­pany that we con­tacted in May(?) to get Kim on the lease. She went in, filled out a credit check appli­ca­tion, paid $40, and we have heard absolutely noth­ing from them since, despite quite a few phone inquiries.

When I moved in to this place, it was man­aged by The Conifer Group, who were absolutely won­der­ful. They should get an A+ in cus­tomer ser­vice, as they were prompt and cour­te­ous and went out of their way to help out. Later, the man­age­ment duties moved to InterWest Properties (I’m not link­ing them because I’d rather have Conifer’s Google pager­ank go up and not InterWest’s), and it has pretty much been a stonewall since. There is still a light fix­ture out in the front room (not a bulb, but the actual socket itself.) The side yard’s flood­lamps are burnt out and have not been replaced, despite sev­eral calls (I’d do it myself, but I do not have a lad­der.) InterWest reg­u­larly sends out an inspec­tor every few months to walk through the house. Kim has per­son­ally told him all the issues, too, but their pol­icy is to inspect and then fix issues at a later date. I keep get­ting the impres­sion that the inspec­tion is less about rou­tine main­te­nance and more about mak­ing sure we don’t have a meth lab in the sec­ond bed­room or a fam­ily of immi­grants liv­ing in the base­ment.

To top it all off, I think I finally caught Kim’s cold, so I am at home today — with peo­ple stomp­ing and pound­ing on the roof.

Regurgitating an Interesting Article

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I am feel­ing much less sick now. Plus, I have enough chicken soup to drown a baby (or bap­tize a baby, depend­ing on your inten­tions.)

Why McDonald's Fries Taste So Good is an arti­cle (linked from Digg) which was used in Fast Food Nation. It describes a lit­tle bit of the his­tory of their fries, but mostly focuses on the chem­i­cal indus­try of fla­vors, scents, and col­ors. Originally, the fries were well received because they were cooked in over 90% beef tal­low. They switched to veg­etable oil in '90, but had to make up for the fla­vor. Legally, they just have to say that it con­tains a “nat­ural fla­vor,” but they have admit­ted that part of that fla­vor comes from an ani­mal source. I have known many veg­e­tar­i­ans in the past that have had no prob­lem eat­ing the fries. I guess it all depends on your def­i­n­i­tion or rea­sons for being veg­e­tar­ian. Due to the potency of these kinds of things, the ani­mal prod­uct has to be a minus­cule amount — maybe one part per bil­lion (the exam­ple they gave was that one drop of fla­vor was enough for five swim­ming pools.) It does not mat­ter one way or the other to me — I just do not like the taste of their fries.

Surprising fact: on aver­age, Americans now eat about four serv­ings of french fries every week. Who are these aver­age Americans? Most peo­ple I know have fries less than once a month, although a few might have them as much as once a week.

Carmine/Carminic Acid/Cohineal Extract is made from des­ic­cated bug bod­ies. 70,000 of the Dactylopius Coccus Costa, a small insect from Peru that eats red cac­tus berries, get used to make a pound of pink dye. Think about that next time you have a Dannon straw­berry yogurt or Ocean Spray pink grape­fruit juice. Again, it is parts per bil­lion, but still...

The “nat­ural” vs. “arti­fi­cial” flavor/color des­ig­na­tion is entirely arbi­trary. For some rea­son, I thought nat­ural was bet­ter (as do many peo­ple out there), but the same chem­i­cal can be either nat­ural or arti­fi­cial depend­ing on how it was syn­the­sized. Actually tak­ing a banana and leech­ing out chem­i­cals from it (by using other chem­i­cals) is nat­ural. Creating the same exact chem­i­cals by mix­ing things in test-tubes is arti­fi­cial. Chemically, they are both the same thing, but one is cheaper because you do not need real bananas.

Posted in: Dear Diary Food

Funded in part by the surreal. An angel, complete with reservoirs.

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Today, I am home sick with a cold. Ick.

I can’t imag­ine the fol­low­ing thing ever becom­ing a meme because the act of down­load­ing the XML and compiling/running all the command-line appli­ca­tions is a bit too time-consuming and arcane for the aver­age Joe. Anyway, I tried a lit­tle exper­i­ment today that con­sisted of the fol­low­ing:

1. Downloading XML of every month of every year I have been a mem­ber of LiveJournal. Fortunately, this was easy because I had been doing this off-and-on since 2001.
2. xmlstarlet sel -t -m "//event" -v "." *.xml > allentries.txt
3. ./chan -n 2000 -d 2 < allentries.txt > fakeentry.txt

The result is a Markov Chain based on my entries. A Markov Chain, in this con­text, is a stream of words joined together by prob­a­bil­ity. The chain starts with two words I have typed together. For instance, let’s say they are “In the.” The Markov Chain gen­er­a­tor then looks through every­thing I have said and fig­ures out the words I have used after “in the.” Maybe the words are: morn­ing, evening, kitchen, and car. It picks one, let’s say “car,” giv­ing us “In the car.” It then uses the next two words, drop­ping “in” and going with “the car” and searches through every­thing I have typed for “the car [some­thing]” and so picks the next word. The result­ing out­put, based soley on prob­a­bil­ity tables from my jour­nal entries, sounds vaguely like some­thing I would type, but gets sur­real in many places and flat-out unin­tel­lig­ble in a few places.

I made a few minor edits — mostly fix­ing line breaks, delet­ing hor­ri­bly bad para­graphs, and fix­ing markup (e.g. if a web link or italic tag never has a ter­mi­na­tor.) I do find it odd that (1) “plate of shrimp” is men­tioned and (2) “kim­chee and egg instant soup” is men­tioned and I am eat­ing that right now.

Fade in to replace the first 1/3 of the episodes you already down­loaded. You can’t touch cells. They’re off-limits. Why? Because. 30 == 29.97 usually...unless it really kind of for­got the fact that the pump­kin ale at the win­dow, a home birth? CheeseMyBaby!

Kim and I picked up a bunch of crap to throw out. Everyone in the tree and seem to directly trans­late to let­ters but Connolly could prob­a­bly get away with a few slid­ers, and try to keep it!

The whole computer/network/firewall thing: two Linux boxes basi­cally went explodey. One was a one that lets you do not know the rain? It’s falling really slowly. I don’t want that. I guess there is no weather. The tem­per­a­ture and humid­ity are uni­ver­sal con­stants, like the ones that every­one else so I can never quite ready to relax in front of one shin, where it came out. It was too hot when I saw him and the win­dow in it (so that “blah-afk” or “bl[a]h” is dropped in favor of “blah”), which is a lit­tle arrow there, point­ing up his sleeve. “You’d be late for me to be the most strict style laws (you can­not have your garage door remains closed and hoped I did not real­ize how Unbreakable would end up sav­ing a lot of tra­di­tional broad­cast tele­vi­sion. All the good kim­chee and egg instant soup.

Officially, I am away from the top few mil­lime­ters of the few movies that ends in “Unit B.” Whatever. I barely noticed, as I was dead. I was look­ing for. (Thanks, [info]boogahs­malls!) I now have a(n unre­leased) patch for Gallery that adds an “Add to your watch.” And all these keys: I have tried Linux, Lindows, and all infor­ma­tion about how you can tell. There are always mess­ing up on pod­casts and such, as this issue of the lat­est Palahniuk book. To round out the “HBO Original Movie” video of BurningSkyz in my time at The Mississippi Pizza Pub. I rec­om­mend both the jacket and reflec­tion of the Rings songs/poems both times I read it. Note to world: “black­ened” does not seem as cool in-person as he was obvi­ously expe­ri­enc­ing some pretty good for the school. Funded in part by the sur­real. An angel, com­plete with reser­voirs

The other park I now have a mediocre one and eight gigan­tic, beau­ti­ful spi­der webs in the fire mar­shal on stage and they were train­ing the employ­ees with the ground–but it is brown­ish and has a fresh-from-the-box D-Link wire­less adap­tor, so we ended up caus­ing me to do with it. At any rate, Mr. Devil-Stick man was never able to mul­ti­plex the audio and deaths and explo­sions and such. A mod­ern day War Of The Worlds, if it were a musi­cian or drug dealer (or programmer)–we are talk­ing about. Not too many pro­fes­sions out there in 6 months. I am reminded of the dream we were miss­ing large chunks of raw fish than Mitsua back home. All of the pic­ture? That would make a “tor­nado” of about ten har­mon­i­cas. Their music was decent. Not great, not bad, dreams.

Beer milk­shakes are not really had to go to the results. One thing the pay­check issues. The old job overnight’ed me the impres­sion that it was writ­ten in, the Pacific islands or per­haps Asia. The floors were flat wood pan­els, with bam­boo here and there, with an uncer­ti­fied ver­sion num­ber pop­ping up on a plate of shrimp and some­one around you in the book­store in my pocket. The then imme­di­ately decided to go back tomor­row for fur­ther inves­ti­ga­tion.

I have a few side projects. That seems to be pretty good and was very loud and released all sorts of jobs, but I am going too fast (by this car’s stan­dards, at least). I have about 6 months ago, and it seems the spin­ning brushes do not know, I could deter­mine the cause and pos­si­ble fix it if they were there, so that a con­spir­acy is going to have swiss-cheese selec­tive mem­ory, but I might pick up). Part of this process will involve sell­ing off the side of a high-level user-space Linux micro­ker­nel thing as a nice lit­tle blast from the steer­ing wheel.

I have become much more than WWII. A trip to Home Depot later, I said, he is on std­out and can be quan­ti­fied by the reg­u­lar lights). Turning off your lights for their quar­ters.

Speaking of the record­ings are unre­leased test tracks as they can. As a con­sumer, hav­ing yet another tank of Sea-Monkeys for my credit card was being used as...sort of a fairy/angel/child rid­ing a motor­cy­cle or bicy­cle with low pres­sure tires. The only dif­fer­ence cur­rently is a lit­tle weak, but the kind that comes in is metallic-colored plas­tic and includes a Sea-Monkey egg omelet. End week three: Populate THREE! Yes, two Sea-Monkeys from the Bay Area (now a bee­keeper) that was called into the pages. Once a pod­cast (or man­u­ally pick through the night, brush­ing off the engine off, which would have been pretty good rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the awk­ward macro syn­tax. The ease of Java devel­op­ers tend to worry a lot of his­tory like LaunchBar (or Quicksilver), so if you are a few books on genetic algo­rithms, because they do not span from the inter­ro­ga­tion and con­tin­ued to be super­sti­tious about things, if not all, of next week or two. “Is that the episode–actually, a bunch of generic cookie-cutter rides that you’ll see at any rate) is not as slow as I write this, I climbed out of a root canal than [insert action here]” phrase kind of like a rev­o­lu­tion­ary (or maybe that’s “ter­ror­ist”) in the car, I started swim­ming along, as if they want to go from there. In fact, it is time to get to see Coffee and Cigarettes.

Returned to Eric’s neigh­bor­hood and wan­dered. Stumbled into a Porche that barely fits in the cor­ri­dor (unlike Luke, he did not even sure I see an alien leg as it was basi­cally the same, only the root user should see) Hacked together a wacky script to run across sim­i­lar rub­ber stop­pers in things like OS/2. Plus, guess what? September 11th came along, they were cute.

I also got the sap. Calendula lotion has helped a bit, but they did was open next to Denny’s, across from Del Taco, I have seen with esca­la­tors for shop­ping carts. You push the shifter over to the most beau­teous princess in all your con­stants mul­ti­lan­guage, or bad things from that flick: (1) it stars Bill Cosby (with­out Jell-o Puddin’ Pops), (2) it had con­gealed into a jack-o-lantern. I almost have the first time I went out­side and the sink.

During my lunch break, I went to sleep. I cracked an encryp­tion sys­tem used by Information Society. “I am in the fine film Poltergeist teaches us three things...

  • Most peo­ple of Transylvania (or what­ever it was, I noticed a cou­ple of pix­els top-to-bottom, so please excuse that, too. The other DVD pur­chase was “Mr. Bean: The Whole Bean.” This is an indi­rect con­nec­tion. Anyway, it is nice to be a lit­tle green worm wear­ing a bra and hat made of old school NIN hid­den in the open? Weird stuff.

There is a physi­cist, not when he showed up, the wine’s potency had snuck up on the 16th. What does the typ­i­cal male “mine is bigger/smaller than yours” envy?

The lap­top was big­ger than Mini-Me!

The lap­top dwarfs the dwarf! It seems that iPhoto will export jpgs that this is going around. Either way, she looked much like the X-Files, minus all of them.

I can­not wait! I do not mix hard alco­hol and beer since I was a lot of data­bases were ini­tially set up a piece of steak (or some­thing like nine times as bright as a pet and not the play-all-through-the-night vari­ety kit­ties. If they were, they either would not touch her tip money until it looks like a freak of nature, liv­ing in the sub­urbs that pre­vents bla­tant adver­tis­ing. Heck, a lot of work.

Last night, I got plas­tic on my phone hol­ster belt, and heats up con­sid­er­ably, caus­ing just a tiny wedge of paper and bam­boo rolling mat. Besides, the fish is that it was Telex, but it is really good review of an apple. You could just as happy with it–the screen res­o­lu­tion is a very Bob-like nar­ra­tive (Bob, for those with access... (You will have a shady saw­bones in a happy medium. The way it picked what name to dis­play a flag pin, the one hand, I really did not want to know about!) There are also cer­tain there will be FOREVER until this comes out of his brain. Smooth wrin­kles, cir­cles, semi­cir­cles. But right in front of me...“How does this inter­nally, with ref­er­ence counts and garbage collection–but I am glad we Netflix’ed it and pay the bill Some pierc­ing jew­elry can be fixed pretty eas­ily by unplug­ging the net­work using the same day. The Manhattan fam­ily seems cool, but it is not the play-all-through-the-night vari­ety kit­ties. If they were, they either would not sell choco­late for a month or two. As best as I know, but that really advanced Java devel­op­ers who are down­load­ing pic­tures of myself like [info]odradak and [info]cit­i­zenx. Anyway, it was deter­mined (by first or sec­ond degree burn on Gene’s fin­ger) that one out. After pick­ing out some­thing fairly com­mon and mun­dane. There are one, pos­si­bly two, things that end up out­putting the work of sev­eral users before it gets piped to the most?

I helped Kim dis­as­sem­ble some of the com­bi­na­tions of Baco and shake’n’bake did not want to see her tomor­row. This makes the pre­req­ui­sites a lot less, start seri­ously tak­ing care of her name) is home to sign out, put on my long-ago expe­ri­ence of mak­ing eye con­tact, which seems to be an easy task. The com­bi­na­tion of Parkinson’s and assorted back prob­lems and would go to the plot–still serv­ing the same cat that hung around to look.

And the famous last words pre­dic­tion meme that has never had to be just part of the above, yet they all tend to be one of these good­ies is a cul­tural thing, but your heart says another. On an inter­est­ing, fun, and a rent-a-cop and got the whole expe­ri­ence is a lit­tle Google search­ing for Julep recipes! As I drained off the water, attempted to describe the acci­den­tal bomb­ing of hos­pi­tals, old folks homes, etc. The rumor sites have a thing for Buffy, Angel, and/or Firefly. I sub­scribed to a tele­vi­sion. It will also be assured that if a white male, approx­i­mately 5′ 10″, 170 pounds, about 21 years of gas, elec­tric, phone, credit card, 401k, and var­i­ous oth­ers. You know that many lan­guages? There was a big change. My mom had to inter­rupt her book. She had a hard­back of some gar­den­ers doing some­thing I know how that would seem my new book. Because of this before. You know how most con­certs have “that guy?” This fes­ti­val had about a block and park using the scrubby brush you use a pro­gram run­ning for sev­eral days, I finally got called and I pay the price.

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