Tag Archives: self-congratulations

>Twitter’s Back!

>Within seconds of my blogging that Twitter was down, it was up.

I’m obviously made of magic.

Eggy in a basket… now more squirrelly than ever!

>So, my new favourite breakfast (other than french toast or anything cooked by someone else) is eggy in a basket. It is tasty. It is convenient. And it is delightfully easy to make.

Cut a hole in a piece of bread, fry that bitch up, flip it, drop an egg in the hole, cook some more, consume. Easy-peasy.

Of course… I don’t do anything like a normal person. I thought breakfast would be more exciting if I used a cookie-cutter of some sort to make the hole in the bread. I was right.

How stinking cute is that?

Squirrel centre with peanut butter. Mmmmm….

Squirrels never tasted so good.

>NERD ALERT!: Only I would be happy about this

>I just made myself soooo happy that when this wee trick finally worked I actually got up and danced around. No joke.

I have my own domain name! Hooray!! I’m officially (and then some) on the Interwebs. HOORAY!

So, what does that mean in words that my moms will understand (she’s pretty Interwebs-savvy, but even she might not even get this one)?

I have my own Interwebs address.

That’s right. My own. I owned this here part of the the Interwebs and I intend to keep it, yo.

So from now on, if you want to find my blog (or you want to tell many, many others how to find my delicious and good-for-you blog) you just have to remember this:


And that is all kinds of awesome, friends and neighbours. All freaking kinds. Woot!

>New vocabulary

>I came up with a new word this weekend. And if anyone reads this and says, “I’ve been using that word for years now”; you’re an idiot.

Detard: (v) To perform any activity that makes you (perhaps temporarily) less stupid. Usage: “After work I like to detard a little by reading novels about the Napoleonic wars.”

>iPhone? Yes, please!

>I finally gave in on Friday and bought myself an iPhone. Normally, this would be a sign of my twin weaknesses: Money Retardation and Tech Lust. But seeing as how I’ve been waiting to buy a freaking iPhone since they first announced that they discovered the technology to make it possible (almost two years ago), through the release of the first generation (over a year ago) and still through after the second generation was released (a few months ago) to see if the G-phone (Google’s phone with the open-sourced Android platform) would be cool enough to go that direction instead… I think I’ve been fairly restrained.

Other than to congratulate myself on delaying my gratification (apparently a sign of intelligence – I never wait to give myself anything so I mustn’t be all that bright) I just wanted you to know how much I love it. Love it. I’m tempted to sleep with the damned thing.

>Walk unafraid

>Tonight I went out to King’s Cross to see a friend from university. I didn’t get there until after 11, and didn’t bother (I’m a dillhole) to check the tube schedule. Turns out my last train home ran at about 11:30. Oops. Because I was in the pub with Mary until 00:15. When I got into the station, all the lines were closed. I asked the train dudes what I should do, and they told me to take a bus to Trafalgar Square and then a bus home from there. Well, I ignored them, because obviously I understand the tube better than they do. I took a risk and got on the Hammersmith line to (duh) Hammersmith. I was hopeful that there would be buses from there… and if not, that I would be close enough to home that the price of a cab wouldn’t kill me. Turns out – I’m a genius. I’ve been to Hammersmith before (I knew it sounded familiar) and technically (but not necessarily “safely”) it is even in walking distance of home. So I got off the very last train and hopped on a night bus. Home from the tube in less than 10 minutes. Awesome. I rule.

While on the train, there was a guy (about my age, I reckon) who was looking at a tube map. He muttered something and I said, “Pardon me?” He was actually speaking to himself, but then he asked me for directions to Heathrow. He was asking the wrong girl – I’m HOPELESS (98% of the time) on transit. I get on buses and go the wrong direction (true story). I could tell him for sure that the Piccadilly line was done though… and that there *might* be a bus from Hammersmith to Heathrow (there was, I’m completely awesome). If nothing else, I assured him, he could take a cab from Hammersmith and at least it was closer to Heathrow than King’s Cross.

During our chat at one point he said, “It must be pretty scary riding the train at night alone.” And I disagreed. I mean, I suppose it could be scary, but I wasn’t feeling frightened in the least. I never do. Now, don’t get me wrong… I don’t do (very) stupid things. I’m very cautious. But I’m very rarely afraid when moving about the city (or about a country, for that matter). Never have been (okay, I was vaguely frightened in Moscow, but I chalk that up to exhaustion at that point). I’m not sure why. I just never feel worry that I’m going to be a victim. Again, I’m not dumb… I know that bad things happen to good people (then again, I’m not always “good people” so maybe that’s what’s keeping me safe – HA!). But I don’t see the point of being afraid and worrying about things that haven’t even happened. And I’m glad I’m like that… my attitude and my ability to “walk unafraid” has allowed me to do some crazy and wonderful things over the last few years.

And now I’m glad I’m home safe and it is time for bed. You can tell I’m tired when I blog if I use a lot of parenthesis. And I have a new mattress pad that I can’t freaking WAIT to try out. If it is rad, I’m definitely blogging about it tomorrow.



I would just like to add a note saying that I’m rather proud of myself for my lengthy blogging today. I’m usually not so well-behaved. And, although I would like you to think that I am simply being a good person, putting my loved ones ahead of my own needs (ie: my need to not sit in front of a computer and like, think, or some junk), it is simply not true. I just didn’t feel like: a. finishing evaluations on the wee monkeys or b. doing the effing dishes.

Sigh. I don’t even eat at home and I STILL have effing dishes. STUPID DISHES! I have an urge to toss ’em all out. Then I would never have to wash them again.

And the evaluations are retarded. Which is appropriate, because so are the monkeys half the time. I don’t even know what to tell you about them. They are dumb, dumb, dumb. I make up the shit. And would you like to know why I make up the shit? Why it doesn’t really matter what I say as long as I circle a 4 or 5? BECAUSE THE MONKEY’S PARENTS CAN’T READ FUCKING ENGLISH. AURGHPANTS!!!!

Bite me, evaluations. Bite me.

Sorry. This will be the end of my self-congratulatory note and complaining about work/chores. FOR TODAY.