I might get a new reader!
Hello, Toby. =]
Does anyone else loathe Splenda?
I made a mistake yesterday. I bought some yogurt, and only noticed that it was the cheapest kind. After the fact, I noticed I had bought “Light” Yogurt. I can deal with that, not a problem.
Then I went to have one this morning. Took a single taste, and instantly recoiled. Checked the ingredients list, and… Splenda. I hate Splenda. I shrugged and finished it because I hate to waste food… and then felt ill for the next few hours. I’m going to endeavor to return the rest of the yogurt, obviously.
But I have to wonder: Mandrina uses Splenda rather than sugar in both coffee and tea. I can’t stand Splenda in anything I eat or drink. Does anyone else like the stuff?
My license has been revoked
On Sunday night, Mandrina asked me to start some water on the stove so she could make grits when she got home from rehearsal. As a pleasant surprise, I figured, “Hey, I can cook grits. They can be ready when she gets home!”
Now, let’s be clear. We’re talking “instant grits.” The steps consist of measuring water, heating water, adding grits, covering. Not rocket science. Not even science at all. The back of the box has less than half of the box covered in instructions — with one quarter of the box given over to branding, and the instructions provided in two languages and for both stovetop and microwave. Even they know it’s simple. And I’ve made grits before — with great success. Long before we were even married, Mandrina received grits as a present from her best friend back home, and I made REAL grits.
Not so on Sunday night. I expect to shortly receive formal notice from the Association of Men Qualified To Marry Southern Belles that my license has been revoked, as the grits I made ended up being worse than gruel. I’ll have to start from scratch again… Back to putting bacon in vegetables…
Four out of Five Doctors…
are currently hunting down the last remaining wise ass who refuses to toe the company line.
Retroactive tagging
I’ve spent a few minutes today going back through over two years of posts and tagging them “appropriately.” The new version of WordPress supports tags, and I’ve always wanted a Tag Cloud (left hand column — see that bit with varying sized pieces of text?), so…
So there have been a TON of updates today. It’s just that none of them mattered.
Anyone have $1,490,000 to spare?
I can kick in the remaining ten grand, but oh man!
I love thermodynamics
I filled up a water bottle today, and that was my thought.
Allow me to elaborate, at length, and with no good reason. Then, if you’re good and comment, I might record an actually interesting series of events, which triggered responses such as, “Gasp!”, “Ha!”, and “Snore!” when recited to a captive audience over lunch today.
Loss of a role model
It’s truly a sad day for fans, young and old. It’s apparently not enough to be successful, and loved by people. No, you have to choose to ruin others, and harm innocents, just to get your kicks. How do things like this come up? It’s not like someone thinks of it idly; no, there has to be long, long time spent planning where you’re going to build your fighting ring, where you’re going to get people to bet.
It’s just a sad, sorry state of affairs, and I feel the loss personally. I had a great deal of respect and admiration, and a large amount of jealousy, I’ll admit, for somone who did what I could only dream of doing.
A fighting ring? Come on, it ruins your life, and others.
My favorite scientist quote of recent times
“Don’t use science on me when I’m sick!” — Mandrina last night after I referred to Newton’s First Law of Motion as to why she wants to stay in bed while sick.
That wasn’t the quote, but I wanted to give her a mention.
“Maybe she felt insecure about all her approach behavior, since you didn’t kiss her or otherwise clearly indicate your interest.”
This is how a scientist calls you a pussy.
From a Men’s Health article on subverbal communication. I’m most definitely not interested in picking up women (or men), but it was a neat headline: “Women are trying to tell you something: They want you.” Or words to that effect.
Bad news, good news, sad news
Bad: Your intern’s final code reviews are so bad it drives you drink.
Good: The gentleman in the office next to yours has a bottle of ten year old Talisker.
Sad: You still have to prepare a presentation for Monday.
Yum. Talisker.