Back in the day, people often got to this site by accident – they’d use MSN Search and type in things like “I caught my wife fucking my horse,” and they’d somehow end up here.

I loved those days. Those days utterly cracked me up.

But now when I check my hit counter software, not much is going on. Just normal searches for blinkies, recipes, how to ping from OSX, iPods, subnetting, and miscarriage – you know, content I actually have! (Oh, and of course that good old standby, “accounting sucks.” What do people think they’re looking for when they google “accounting sucks”?)

I miss those funny, funny old days.

I really want to post something amusing and clever, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen. I’m just not feeling it.

Shoes
I never put my shoes on yesterday. I left the house in my slippers and carried my shoes to the car, where they remained until I got home.

Shoes, I believe, are highly overrated (unless you’re wearing a really cute outfit. Which I patently was not).

Music
I have rehearsal tonight. It’ll be fun once I get there, but I’m feeling oh-so-lazy right now about doing anything at all.

Geek
Alright, I hate all web-based RSS aggregators! None of them work. I’m currently using two, because neither actually gets all my feeds updated. Why is this? Anyone?

I want a new Pocket PC. Mine’s old, and full, and some of the buttons don’t work so well. Plus I want the latest opsys just ’cause.

I also think I wanna buy a used iPod and put Linux on it.

Finally, I can only make this layout render properly in IE if there are no images in the entries. This is entirely fucking stupid. Furthermore, in IE, some of the list tags are weirdly interpreted so there are random little bullets all over the sidebar. This makes me crazy and grumpy.

Alcoholism
Apparently I drink daily now. Apparently I stop at the bar after work every single night and have a cocktail. (Good thing I only work three days a week then, eh?) I did last night, and I’m certain I’ll be doing it again tonight. In fact, B. and I were making jokes yestereve about how we’re “getting in shape for the winter drinking season.”

Yup, that’s Iowa living for you.

In which I complain and talk geeky.

I’m so fucking tired! I even slept in, and got to work half an hour late.

Yesterday I did a bunch of cool geeky stuff to my site. I surfed the WP Codex and then made custom 404 pages; added an archive to the blog and removed some of the sidebar content; and tweaked stuff. Fun.

Keef asked me why I keep two blogs and I didn’t have a very good answer. I’m thinking of merging the root and the blog into one application.

Ah, hell, who am I kidding? I have nothing interesting to write about. I’m too sleepy.

If you’re my beloved blonde bartender at the Dead Cock, this is not aimed at you. It’s to those boys. And that Dew Drop chick.

Dear Bartender,

Your hands are not clean. You handle dirty beer bottles, cash, that nasty popcorn, and other unsavory items.

Please do not put your fingers on the business end of the straw you’re going to put in my cocktail. HOLD IT IN THE MIDDLE, slightly above the drink-line. Because when you don’t, my straw tastes bad.

That is all.

DST ends Sunday at 2:00. Don’t forget to adjust your clocks.

Oh, by the way: I fucking hate DST.

Every year, twice a year, I spam my various reps with long missives about how DST was allegedly begun for farmers and is no longer needed ’cause them tractors got LIGHTS ON ‘EM these days, PLUS all the farmers who farm the several thousand acres of corn (or soybeans depending on the year) around my house do it at night anyway. IN THE DARK. ON TRACTORS WITH UFO-BRIGHT LIGHTS ON THEM.

Futhermore I utterly fail to see how in this era of constantly-running appliances switching clocks an hour could possibly save on the general use of resources. I mean, they say DST reduces energy use by up to 1% but my computer’s on 24 hours a day no matter what “time” sunset is. (Plus I hate adjusting my schedule so much that even perfectly legit research may fail to move me.) Not to mention that a street light is on sunset to sunrise regardless of what the clocks say, and night’s just plain longer when the axis tilts. Making me get up an hour earlier doesn’t change that one bit.

I so hate DST. Ugh.

In which you’re amazed.

This is how much of a dork I really am:

I actually own a hampsterdance.com coffee mug.
——–

In which I eat like there’s no tomorrow.

Since the weather has turned, all I want to do is eat.

I had full-on greasy breakfast both Saturday and Sunday last weekend, and I never do that. (Hash browns! Scrambled eggs with melted cheese! Veggie sausage! Toast with real butter! OMG!)

Saturday I ate pasta (alfredo primavera, with generous amounts of cream, butter, and parmesan) for dinner, and then again as a late-night snack.

And yesterday I ate Mexican food twice. (Note to self: never, EVER eat an entire box of taco filling in one day again. Good God, what were you thinking?!)

The thing is, I’ll be perfectly round by Thanksgiving if this shit doesn’t stop. Please tell me I’m not the only one who apparently thinks she’s changed species and is fattening up for a function her body doesn’t even perform!

OMGOMGOMG! It’s here! My new iPod!

I’m so geeked out.

I’d thought about not keeping it, but of courseI’m going to. It’s new, it’s shiny, and best of all – it’s here in my hot little hands. The other one, the 6th gen, the one I should have purchased, well, it’s not here. See what I mean?

For no reason whatsoever.

Buz and Shiva

One orange cat, yawning, and one yellow dog, curled up, on an old blanket in the corner of the livingroom.

In which we do all kinds of redneck stuff.

Late this morning we went out and towed my dad‘s RV out of the ditch where he’d gotten it stuck on his arrival Friday night. It was pretty exciting, really – his rig is huge and the road was about three inches deep in nasty, sticky, clay-like Iowa mud.

If you don’t know about Iowa mud, let me tell you. It’s not like any other mud you’ve ever seen. It’s gooey and sticky and unforgiving, and it will coat your tires in three inches of clay so that you get absolutely no traction. It’s terrible stuff. And my dad’s RV weighs about a bajillion tons and has street tires on it with no tread. Furthermore, the rig was perilously close to sliding into a very, very, very deep ditch. (Like, maybe 20 feet deep. Although the trees probably would have stopped it from actually making it all the way to the bottom if it had gone in.)

Brett hooked a tow chain to the RV’s frame and got in his truck. Dad got in the RV. I stood freezing on the side of the road, charged with screaming like mad if the “ass end of that thing starts heading toward the ditch!”

Brett’s truck was spinning all four tires at first, but he got the RV pulled out. Yay! Then he traffic-copped my dad for a bit as he backed the thing up the road and back onto gravel. Work done, we drove back to the house.

Dad’s rolling home is now safe (and level!) up top, plugged into power and everything. He feels so much better. (Having your home stuck in mud about fifteen inches from a giant ditch is probably a little nerve-wracking.)

Brett and Jim

After a bit of self-congratulation we went out into our woods, where Brett and Dad chopped down three dead trees and cut them into pieces. Then the three of us loaded the pieces into the back of the truck while the dogs ran around chewing on logs and rolling in dirt and munching the last of the grass of the season.

Happy dogs

We’ve unloaded the wood into a big pile next to the garage and are inside warming back up. We’re thinking about some kind of football/cocktail excursion for the remainder of the afternoon.