Tiny robots test my mettle and patience.

I am puzzled that we (the scientific and technological 'we' that were supposed to deliver us flying cars and nuclear trifocals by the y2k) have not managed the feat of building a robot that intakes grass, water, and oxygen to produce milk, urine, feces, and CO2. How complex can a cow (or any other mammal) be? I have a puppy. And so far, all I can see is a little machine that breathes, drinks, shits, pees, and eats tasty Nutromax. Oh, digs. It digs as a side-effect. It especially likes to trench through ant hills; a most dangerous undertaking when spring returns. For this little machine I payed $50.

Is it July already?

I am writing trivia questions. I am also smoking cigarettes. Also, I am cold. I still have about 20 questions to write and 3 hours to do it. I hope I make it.

It turns out that I do not have telekinetic ability.

I had a dream the other night. It was very vivid. I dreamt that I was sleeping. When I awoke, I looked above me to find my pillow rotating slowly in the air a few feet from my head. Then I looked down and noticed that I was levitating as well. It occured to me that I might be making these things happen with mind powers, so I proceeded to make the pillow do loops and Immelmann turns in my room (which, incidentally was not my real room at all but a high-ceilinged room in a house on a plantation) with telekinesis. I also began to make myself spin around like a top. The dream was so real that I bacame nauseous from the spinning and woke myself. Then I spent the next minute of my life drifting in that post-sleep haze, attempting to make my pillow float.

I have to listen to people screw constantly.

You would think as you near 30, the probability that you are going to have to listen to anyone besides yourself and whoever you are fucking fuck would decrease. That might be the cleverest sentence I have ever written.

No kidding, though. It happens in other rooms of the house. It happens in the yard. It happens in the parking lot at work. On Friday it happened across the trunk lid of my car. It must have been misty. There are passionately smeared hand-prints on the back window. Everyone is getting to have sex but me and it is getting a little disconcerting. Mostly because on the rare occasion that I have been able to have sex, I made some attempt to not do it in front of people who are not getting any. It's a common courtesy. Or so I thought.

I didn't get the memorandum about the new policy of public rutting. If you see a skinny, shaggy guy who isn't getting laid, rub it in. Extra points if he walks in on you doing it on the kitchen counter.

IDENTIFY YOURSELF, ANONYMOUS COMMENTER!!!

Capitals make it seem so much more forceful, don't you think?

I will probably be cursed with daughters

I am toying with the idea of moving to Australia with a crew of people I met on the internet to become an opal miner. The money could be good or I could end up broke with a missing leg or even dead. But at least I will be able to say I was a miner.

I Hope My Friends Are Enjoying Rehab

I suspect that they are. I am positive that one will hate it, but she hates just about everything so this should be no different. The others I suppose will be able to make the most of it, as they certainly made the most of the parts before rehab. Those parts which actually brought about rehab. I think they are probably generally jolly people and can find the silver lining in group discussion and puppetry.

What is more fun than meeting new people?

I keep having parties. It's really an accident, but since I have too much house and too few brain cells, I keep inviting people over. Last night it was bowling. Then back to my place where we tried salvia. I had never heard of it, but I'm sure it will be illegal soon. It made me want to sit down, and I did. Wherever I happened to be. Then it's over in about 4 minutes. I inhaled the cherry. I forgot about that and woke up this morning thinking I was getting strep. But no. I just burned a hole in the back of my throat.

Piper Is Not Too Bright

My brother's dog split the pad almost completely off her right paw last week. This required 8 stitches. It's about healed up now, and we unstitched her and she was happy. Then, today she did it again. On the other paw this time. I did the cleanup myself and I don't think she needs stitches this time. When I went outside to figure out how the hell this kept happening, I found a strip of aluminum siding which had been buried, but which has now become unearthed due to erosion or something. I pulled it out. My point is that this dog is stupid.

It was a great birthday

Al had a great birthday. Collin also enjoyed his birthday. In fact, I am fairly ciertain that everyone had a fantastic birthday except for the girl who hit the deer.

I Am Still Sad That Dimebag Is Dead

What a terrible thing to hear about Johnny Carson.

I throw a monsterous great party and someone rips off my laptop. Actually, it was Wade's laptop. That makes it even worse. But not worse than trying to wipe something off of the bottom of your shoe as you are cleaning behind the couch and...what is that thing stuck to the bottom of my shoe, anyway? Oh. It's a dead mouse stuck in between my shoe and a glue trap. I touched it. No picture.

No picture, OK?!!

Space In A Closet

I must be the only person in the world who takes clothes to Goodwill based purely on the fact that I am running dangerously low on coathangers.

I slept until 4pm again

My house is the fucking Secret of Nimh. I have noted the presence of Oprah Winfrey II, and have resolved to dispatch her as I did her mother. Or club her to death with a roll of contact paper. I am such a predator. Yesterday, I saw her fly out from under my bed, across the dining room and BANG! Right into the dog bowl which sounded like a bell and probably hurt. I'm giving her a 24 hour head start from right now for being amusing. Unfortunately, she will probably waste this generous gift milling around under the dishwasher.

Oprah Winfrey is dead

I awoke to tiny squeaks. Suddenly, being quiet is not so critical when you are ankle deep in glue. Anyway, Oprah Winfrey was pissed off to see me and began to flail about. I think the glue trap ended up about 4 feet from where I had originally left it. After she wore herself out, I snapped a picture of my little captive and went out back to fill a bucket with water. I honestly thought Oprah Winfrey would have lasted a bit longer, but she drowned in 20 seconds.

Now I must disinfect my counters.

A Name for a Mouse

I have a mouse. I haven't given him a name because I am actively trying to kill him, but I am beginning to feel a bit remorseful about that. Sure, he shits on my counter, and sure he hauls empty Velveeta packets into the bowels of my oven, and naturally I get irritated when I reach for something around the house and he leaps out and causes me alarm. But is it his fault? Of course not. I am filthy. And I have central heat. I would probably have moved in, too.

He is so small, and he leaves his crap wherever he happens to be when he is finished with it. So you see, we are really two of a kind. And since my brother moved out, he is sort of filling a void.

one white sock

I am doing laundry today. Life is a drag. Because I know that now that the whites are in, I am going to find a random sock somewhere and it will just be too late. That dirty sock is just going to have to wait until next laundry day and its clean mate will also have to wait. And I won't want to put the clean one away because I am weird like that and don't like straggling socks in the sock drawer so I will put it on the dresser or something. And that is how I will lose it. Then the other one will be clean and I will have no idea where the first clean one is anymore. This is terrible.

before the dog barks

Suppertime comes and goes around me. It makes little difference what time it is or what the last thing I ate was. I only eat when I am hungry. Or when it is free. The only time it is mealtime is at my family's house. I don't eat at the television anymore, since my brother moved away with the X-Box and DVDs and I don't have cable. The dining room table is piled high with books. I usually just stand in the kitchen and look at the mouse shit.

there was glass in my grandmother's foot

i never had a blog. i have a website. that's different. but since i must register to post fun comments on other people's blogs, i might as well use it. my website is sort of a blog, except with the added benefits of loads of space, methods of adding audio, cascading style sheets and my meticulously designed button array at the top. it does have it's downside though. mainly that i have to deal with code and ftp just to post for the day. this seems easier. also, my mother doesn't know about it so, unlike my website, it doesn't have to be rated PG-13. Fuck.