7.02.2005 ||> If you don't like profanity, don't read this post
Dear Mr. Shit-head and Mrs. Asshole,
Mr. Shit-head, you are a jerk because last night when it was raining so hard and I was walking home, you honked at me while I was crossing the street in a case where not only was the light on my side, but I was in the crosswalk. I know that two seconds of waiting to turn right must have been killing you, but the fact that my umbrella was fucking useless in the wind should have given you some common decency enough to wait.
Mrs. Asshole, you are a bitch because after Shit-head honked at me, and after the wind had successfully driven all the rain onto my body and I was soaked to the skin, you honked at me as I was crossing at another clearly designated crosswalk. Even after I clearly signaled that I was going to cross the street, and you were definitely far enough away to have breaking time. I was being polite, and you were being a bitch. That, of course, is why I flipped you off. And when you honked at me the second time, and I flipped you off the second time, you should have gotten the fucking hint. I hope you had kids in that gas-hogging SUV, and I also hope that your kids asked you what that finger meant so you could be as uncomfortable as I was, you asshole.
Maybe the two of you should get together and either go fuck yourselves or each other as clearly you are stressed if you see a pedestrian who has the right of way and still honk at them. Especially when you're dry and warm in your car and she is cold, wet and wanting to get home. Or perhaps you should lose your goddamned licenses and have to walk the mile I walked yesterday. Fuckers.
I hope god punishes you,
S.
On TBS every evening at 6, they play reruns of Charmed. I never really got into the show, and only watched a couple of episodes because they came after Angel. Honestly, I don't like television in general. In my first month of living in Uzbekistan, my host sister at the time, Lera, loved watching Charmed in the morning during breakfast. Of course, it was in Russian, but so badly dubbed that I could pick out the English. I found it comforting to have something American around me that was not another Peace Corps trainee. Plus, I think the plots got better over time, before they became increasingly stupid. But the acting is good, so I can deal with plots as thin as cheesecloth.
Now I watch it because of the eye candy. Drew Fuller is a pretty good actor too, and his character is the only one I really like. But honestly, I have no problem watching him on mute either. I already know he dies at the season finale, and after that I'm not so sure I will be watching the show.
Issue solved! Thanks Nathan, for reminding me that Blogger now has an external site where they publish information that they won't even put on their "issues" page.
If anyone has figured out in the past that my permalinks are also crap, and I'm not sure how to fix them. So don't go there, I've been working on the problem since this layout went up. One of these days, I'm going to figure it out just in time to put a new layout up.
I'm going to blow dry my hair now and then run for the bus, which I am sure I will be late for now.
You know, when this white space showed up all of a sudden, I e-mailed Blogger right away. Have they done a goddamned thing? Nope. Did I change anything with my code to cause it? Nope.
What is up with this?
And while I'm on the subject, they never did fix my permalinks (the page that contains one post). I still have that crap on them saying that the code is invalid when it's not. It's just Blogger being a dumbass.
Last Tuesday, my co-workers were talking about tanning. Two of the girls are about as white as I am... which is to say, like snow. I have been applying sunless tanner this summer and have gotten good results. My boss turned to me and said, "Well, you're pretty tan, what have you been doing?"
Let me repeat that. "You're pretty tan, what have you been doing?"
I only repeat that because no one has ever said that before about me. Case in point: A couple summers ago, I worked a summer camp in the Uzbek town of Nukus, which has a lot of sun, and no shade. For the first time in my life, I was tan. I was as brown as I'd ever been in my life. When I went back to Tashkent, I met up with my host family. My host father asked me, "Was there no sun in Nukus?"
This sunless tanner stuff has made me a new person.
