May 2004 Archives

so i was gonna sit here on the porch & upgrade my MT but you just know the damn cheapass mofos would interrupt me. hmmph. comin' to my g.r.o.j. (get rid of junk) sale insulting my uglyass old lady dining room table & such with offers so low you could use 'em to scrape the mousey dung of'n the legs. i happen to know it's a very fine piece of uglyass furniture & people pay big money for uglyass shit all the time. i mean fuck. offers so raggedy i could use 'em to chase them black widder spiders out of that 'antique' card table holding up that cool yamaha keyboard, it has a whole orchystraw inside it somewheres and it gots some fancy edjumication module, it'll teach any idiot how to play lit'rally whole buncha cheesy songs for crimeny's sake, same model right now on ebay goin' fer a hunnert fifty bucks, all i'm askin' is seventy five and i'll go fifty it's sunday & all i sold so far is a slow clothes dryer, coupla shelves, some fat pants & a frog tool, it is sunday & i find i have a hankerin' i mean i am settin' here on the porch positively pinin' for some tightwads to come insult me like they did yesterday early, i woudn't be near as fluffy about it today.

taking into consideration the deep dip in my prices as the time has passed, & figuring that at least some & mayhap most of the folks who go garagesale-ing understand the psychology of desperation, i'm figuring the offers will be considerably more insulting, here in the middle of sunday. especially the way my sign's looking, i figure they can smell the desperation at least a couple hundred feet away, if they know what they're smellin' for. and if they do, i assure you that they will be entirely accurate in that olfactory assessment.

i will have to take a picture of my sign. it is quite likely the world's worst-taped piece of public information ever affixed to a power pole, i shit you not.

and since the flow of penny-pinchers has slowed to a trickle that is, well, nonexistent, i may as well run that upgrade.

we rode the four five oh to ellay. well, van nuys. same thing.

my soon-to-be-son-in-law is cooler. uh-huh. & randomly:

i have *so* many pictures. luckily there is a gallery thingy with a cool uploading interface that makes multiple thumbnails & has its own stats package & comment system.

i just had to sit & think hard to type out the code for a hyperlink.

if she's anything like me, she ran the telling through her mind any number of times, like practice, only imaginary. i imagine the five maybe ten minutes of ordinary everyday smalltalk that preceeded the telling was somewhere between nervewracking nailchewing & tingling anticipating. i know she knew the reaction would be good, but i also know what took her all those minutes nattering on about ordinary everyday this & that, before she told me:

"mom, i'm pregnant"

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

eight weeks.

my daughter was born 12/21, nine days after my twenty second birthday. her due date was 12/16, she was late. (there's a name for that now -- it's called 'amanda time' as in, i'll be there in a half an hour, amanda time, which means 'relax kick back read a book it'll be awhile') anyway.

her due date is either 12/12 or 12/16, depending on the chart you use for figuring. and she will turn twenty two on the twenty first.

i bet it's a girl.

i'm sitting on the porch, typing this, because 802.11b wireless? they're giving the shit away. i mean literally. well almost literally, but pretty much, literally.

the internet's getting easier to face each & every day.