with guest appearance by Molly O'Malley the Llama"Fecundity" looks so much like "feces" that there's no way I can ever associate it with positive connotations.Paige (Oompa Loompa Girl on this humble site) will be moving indefinitely from Texas to Spain tomorrow so husband-Matt can pursue his position at Exxon. That's a whole 'nother country! They've already boxed up all their crap and put their house on the market, so she will now spend her days attempting to learn Spanish and starting a travel-blog so she doesn't have to write emails to everyone. Good luck Paige!I've often considered what it would be like to pick up and move out of the U.S. The reason I never would is because I'm quite comfortable where I'm at, and inertia toys with me like a fat kid on a bicycle. Plus there's that whole "other language" issue. I have four years of French under my belt, and I spent pretty much every single class period finding out new ways to insult my friends. My new French neighbours probably ne m'aime pas.I would conjugate that into super future picture perfect, but I forgot all of my conjugations long, long ago. Je ne sais rien.Our textbook in French I - III was called On y va! which literally means "Let's go there!" but has a more colloquial French meaning. The French teacher spent the first day of class trying to explain what a colloquialism was when all she wanted to do was teach us how to order an Orangina. Finally, she threw her hands up in the air and told us to forget about the title of the book because it didn't matter. As if that would ever fly with a bunch of eighth graders. What the heck is an Orangina anyhow? Shut up with the Orangina. Je voudrais un diablo citron. Elle a le nez du chien.The only reason I'd ever want to visit Europe would be to experience really old stuff. Living in the U.S. means that nothing is really that old, and living in Virginia means you've automatically exhausted all of the oldest places, like colonies, battlefields, and excavated outhouses. It seems so piddling that Alexandria archaeologists spend hours scraping off pottery shards in an outhouse to determine that they're 300 years old, when there are places in the world that have seen constant action for thousands of years. I don't give a rat's ass that Beethoven lived here or there, but I would appreciate the relative ancientness of the towns and landscapes.When I was a kid I wanted to be an archaeologist like Indiana Jones. On the north side of our house was a small patch of shady dirt where grass never grew because of a lack of light. Rather than admit botanical defeat, we called it a dirt pile and I was allowed to dig the heck out of it all year long. Once, I found animal bones wrapped in tin foil.Eighteen weeks until the beach. I cannot wait to dig a big fat hole all day long, and then sit back and say, "Hey, I dug a hole." Digging holes is somehow therapeutic for me.I also plan on visiting Australia at some point in my life, preferably in my schooner so I can kidnap a koala bear and a kangaroo and bring them back to the States. I cannot confirm or deny that I would put boxing gloves on the kangaroo if I had one.As kids, we owned the game, Kangaroo for the Atari 2600, which featured a kangaroo with boxing gloves ascending an oddly-plagiaristic Donkey Kong world. Our joysticks always had one broken button, so I never got past the first level. Actually, I don't think I got past the first level of any games on the Atari 2600.The lamp on my office desk has gone through four lightbulbs in the almost three years I've been working full time there. Using them only twenty-five hours a week, that seems to be a rather low life expectancy. The more alarming observation here is that I'm almost at my three year anniversary. I didn't get anything for two years, but I think I get my choice of a solid gold doubloon or a wench for three years.Do you visit all the blogs I post in the sidebar on the left and on the Links page? You should. Some of them definitely require more updates though. Get with the program, Jim Barry!My nose is perpetually itchy and the sun is now cresting the horizon when I go to work at 5:45 AM every morning, so Spring is almost here! I don't understand why I didn't develop pollen allergies until after I graduated from college. Maybe it's the fault of all that Spanish moss in Tallahassee. What a fake plant that is.I'm having a few folks over for a low-key St. Patrick's Day dinner with seven pounds of corned beef this evening (except for Kim who doesn't like corned beef -- what the heck! You Irish-heathen) and then will be spending the rest of the weeking doing Java certification stuff. I hope to have this certification wrapped up by my annual review in mid-May so I can get another hefty pay bonus to waste on drugs, blondes, and rock star life stylings. Tomorrow is Andy Norton's birthday. Happy Birthday!Happy St. Patrick's Day! This holiday discriminates against people like me who can't see the colour green and never owned any green clothing, because why would you wear clothes you can't see unless you're an emperor? Pinch this. Jessica Simpson snubs Bush Man sues himself for vehicle damage HIV Joke backfires
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