Why Plinko hates you.
the life and times of one jaded motherfucker.
:.News of the World.:
Woman In the Dark - Dashiell Hammett
:.Last 6 Books.:
The Catcher In the Rye - JD Salinger
Grendel - John Gardner
Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha - Roddy Doyle
The Road - Cormac McCarthy
Theft - Peter Carey
Saturday - Ian McEwan
:. Bands .:
Jets to Brazil
Philip K. Dick
The Lord of the Rings
The Dark Tower
02/01/2001 - 03/01/2001 03/01/2001 - 04/01/2001 04/01/2001 - 05/01/2001 05/01/2001 - 06/01/2001 06/01/2001 - 07/01/2001 07/01/2001 - 08/01/2001 08/01/2001 - 09/01/2001 09/01/2001 - 10/01/2001 10/01/2001 - 11/01/2001 11/01/2001 - 12/01/2001 12/01/2001 - 01/01/2002 01/01/2002 - 02/01/2002 02/01/2002 - 03/01/2002 03/01/2002 - 04/01/2002 04/01/2002 - 05/01/2002 05/01/2002 - 06/01/2002 06/01/2002 - 07/01/2002 07/01/2002 - 08/01/2002 08/01/2002 - 09/01/2002 09/01/2002 - 10/01/2002 10/01/2002 - 11/01/2002 11/01/2002 - 12/01/2002 12/01/2002 - 01/01/2003 01/01/2003 - 02/01/2003 02/01/2003 - 03/01/2003 03/01/2003 - 04/01/2003 04/01/2003 - 05/01/2003 05/01/2003 - 06/01/2003 06/01/2003 - 07/01/2003 07/01/2003 - 08/01/2003 08/01/2003 - 09/01/2003 09/01/2003 - 10/01/2003 10/01/2003 - 11/01/2003 11/01/2003 - 12/01/2003 12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004 01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004 11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006 01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006 04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006 05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006 06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006 07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006 08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006 09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006 12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007
Saturday, May 13
I'm home. Spacey, but home.
As usual, I only suffer jet lag when I get home. In one way, it's better, since you're not messing up with your very-important travel business or with eating at nice restaurants and sleeping in a fancy room on the company's tab. On the other hand, you're home for months, so there's no logical end to look forward to. Last time I went on a costing trip, I was wonky for 3 weeks, longer than the trip.
On to other things. . . It turns out the dog missed me. My roommate said he moped around and slept most of the time I was gone. He's been by me almost the entire time I've been home. I suppose that's something.
I baked two pies today, my favorite kind: strawberry-rhubarb. I went to Kroger this morning to fill up my very empty cupboards (naturally I tried to clear them as much as possible before I left), and saw rhubarb for the first time since I got to Georgia. It was huge, all of it like the biggest you'd ever see in your garden. They weren't marked with a name or price, but I know rhubarb when I see it. So I bought more than enough for two pies.
When I checked out, the cashier had no idea what the stuff even was. Best of all, when she found the code and rang it up, I discovered that in Georgia, rhubarb goes for $4/lb.
Now, in Wisconsin, no one would ever pay that. People pay you to take their rhubarb away. You move out of a house because the rhubarb patch has taken over the yard and it's easier to buy a new house than get rid of it once it's growing.
Not here in the Peachy state. No, here you pay for it as if it were grown on a tiny island in the South Pacific and can only be harvested once a year by specially trained monkeys who wear funny hats.
OK, me tired now. I hope I can keep myself awake until 8 or 9, because getting up at 3am gets old real fast.