December 22nd, 2003


buckeye nuts

I think I'm done with unnatural unlikely pairings for now. Brain fried. Sorry, peeps. (Or, brain sorry, fried peeps. It all works.)

Just now while I was getting aspirin and shaking my cramped arm out vigorously, my coworker asked in late-afternoon loon mode, "Your arm hurts? Are you having a heart attack?!" I said it was my right arm, not my left. He told me that left-arm pain is a myth. You get pain all over. Neck, arm, back-- "My back hurts too!" I cried anxiously. Then fell to the floor and died. The end.

Another coworker is about to take three months leave of absence. In pursuit of slackerhood, I think. A third is quitting post-holidays. I cannily take this opportunity to gauge my value to the company: they will need me now more than ever, I decide. Ha ha!

Should I see a movie tonight? Do I dare to eat a peach? Or should I struggle heroically against the shooting pain that feels like a badger has clamped its mighty teeth into my right shoulder and refuses to let go and write? Not that the badger refuses to write. I mean, should I struggle against the badger and try to write? And would you like to see some badger teeth? And can I go home now?

White House warns of massive terror threat

I know this sort of thing is political gravy to Bush, but that doesn't necessarily invalidate it. My own terror alert is edging up a bit. I wish I could just work from home until, like, January 15. Downtown Seattle doesn't strike me as the safest place to be at this time. I also feel the sudden need to buy several gallon jugs of water.

None of this helps me in the event of a nuclear attack, though.

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