Usually I come to this page with an idea of something to write about. Not today. This will probably be one of those random posts with little bits of everything in it. Have you ever noticed that my first paragraph is always long enough to make that drop cap thing on the left look right? Often I'll want to start off with a single sentence, but I write some fluff to make it look right.
I just gave my fish some medicine. They still have fin rot. It's really scary because huge chunks of their fins just dissolve into the water, so they look really pitiful. I've bought tons of different kinds of medicine for them, but none have fixed them yet. Each time they seem better, but then after the treatment the symptoms start showing up again. Of course I'm trying to treat the root problem, too, although I don't really know what it is. I change the water and feed them less. Almost everyone feeds their fish too much.
I really love my fish. I think they're the best pet ever. I can go out of town and not have to worry about them, but whenever I have a spare moment I sit and watch them swim around. Now I don't like watching them as much because they're sick so it makes me feel bad. It's amazing that they can just swim around and not die of boredom. I couldn't.
I always help myself to the student discount when available. Sure, I don't actually go to school, but I still have my UT ID, and I'd argue that I learn more on a regular basis than most college students. Before today I'd never had any problem using my ID.
I'm sitting at a poker table at Foxwoods Casino in Connecticut. I haven't played in a while, and it's good to be back. I step away from the table to answer my phone. It's my mom and she wants to know where I am. I'm at the casino. She insists that I'm flying back to Austin at 7:30am the next morning. No, I was flying out on Sunday and planned on spending Saturday with the family. She checks, and she's actually right - my flight leaves in only seven hours.
We pile into the car and begin the two hour journey back to my grandparents' house where I'm staying. That gives me about 5 hours to sleep, pack, and leave the house.
On my fancy Treo 700 I have a little plugin that shows my daily todo list and calendar entries below my programs. I have to do this because otherwise I never really notice the things I write there, and thus don't do them. I use the todo list a lot, but the calendar is basically empty.
Today I looked down and saw something unusual. "Are you totally ripped? Bet."
No, I'm not.
I've been trying to post for a few days, but my site hasn't been working. Luckily the computer gnomes magically fixed it tonight. Anyway, one of the reasons that I've been so busy lately is because I am moving!
I've been wanting to post about this for a while, but I've been waiting to make sure it's a sure thing. Between offers going back and forth and inspections, you never know what will happen in the end.
Anyway, a friend and I bought a condo right in downtown Austin. It's right next to one of my favorite clubs, The Foundation, and only a couple blocks away from some of my other favorite places like Halcyon, Alamo Drafthouse, Whole Foods (YES!), and even my work.
As I mentioned previously, my gas got turned off. I'm moving soon, so I've been getting my house ready to be sold. Part of that includes turning on the gas again so that the inspector can make sure everything's fine.
At noon a knock lands upon my door. I open it and see a towering black man standing in the doorway. He's at least six feet tall, at least four feet wide, and is wearing a hard hat. A grin spreads across his face.
"It's the LOOOOOVEEE DOCCCTORR!!" he proclaims.
Ok, guys. I have a good one for you. I should be sleeping right now, but I was hanging out with one of the Angels until 5am, and then for some reason I went back to work after that. Now it's 8am and I can't fall asleep.
So, who are Tynan's Angels? A fine question, my fine feathered friend.
About a month ago I was sitting around bored. My new job (sorry, too tired to find the link.) is cool, but there are no lady-types there. I also miss the pickup business, but have no desire to make another pickup workshop clone. It's been done.
I actually found this on boingboing.net. I shouldn't even post their name since they're one of the few big aggregating sites that has never run one of my articles. But hey, when they've got a good article, they've got a good article.
They posted This MP3 about how to always do the right thing. It's brilliant. I've actually been wanting to write a post to that effect, but the speaker, Dan Gilbert, did a much better job than I would have.
The essence of the speech is that EV is king. EV is expected value, a term used commonly in the gambling world. I would explain what it is, but if you listen to the lecture you will have a better understanding and then I won't have to type as much.
Wow. Is this three posts in three days? It's like the good old days. Remember those? So, today I wake up and go through my normal routine. Read e-mails, listen to voicemails, eat some breakfast, say hi to my beautiful fishies, etc. Time for the shower.
I turn the water to hot and weigh myself while I wait for it to heat up. 139. Damn. That's really skinny. I eat a lot of salmon. Shouldn't I weigh more? I check the water - it's still cold. I brush my teeth while I wait.
I walk down to my stupid community mailbox to check my mail. The idiocy of these types of mailboxes strikes me, as it has every other time I've checked my mail. Bills. Magazines. Junk Mail. A package slip!
I couldn't remember what I ordered, but that happens a lot. I start driving towards the post office, eager to get whatever gadget I've ordered this time. Stopped at a red light, I look more closely at the slip. It's not a package, it's a certified letter. And it's from the IRS.
Ok, serious question here: what would happen if I started habitually using the ladies' room? I'm sitting at JFK airport right now, and I just went to the men's bathroom. It's filthy. I mean filthy filthy.
Some of the displays of filth are so bad that I can only assume people have never used toilets before. Everything is in the wrong place.
I don't understand how it happens. Are these accidents? Do people enjoy displaying their work for the next guy?