Odd combinations.

Does anyone want to talk me out of voting for Tony Blair in November?

I think I'm running a fever. You know, nothing has gone right this week. My brother and I were laughing about it all being a result of Murphy's Law until it got really annoying.

Anyways, I smoked a really nice cigar the other day, a King Cameroon, and had a really tranquil, very bittersweet moment with my boyfriend in which we realized we have six weeks left before I start law school and time will change as we know it forever.

On the lighter side: I was flipping through Runner's World Magazine yesterday and came across a write-up about a race held here in Massachusetts every spring called the James Joyce 10K. As you run, various actors stand at the side of the road performing scenes from Joyce's works. The very last presentation on the course: The Dead.

Not sure of where this concept for a race came from, but I'm thinking of running it next year. Let me know if you know of any literature-happy runners who may be also interested.

I'll try to post some pictures this weekend.

In other veggie news.

H. H. the Dalai Lama has publically spoken out against Kentucky Fried Chicken. I am no longer a PETA member (guilt from no longer being strictly vegan, I suppose), and I disagree with a lot of their methods. But they do a lot of good for animals and, as a result, for humans, too.

Return of the greatest ice-cream snack ever.

Jelly-O Pudding Pops are back. Yes, it's true. They don't look the same anymore, but they sure taste the same and still have that ultra-thin layer of ice.

Vanilla is my favorite. Frankie likes the swirl. Funny, if you know us.

Brief vegetarian rantings.

I, too, know the joy of finding non-leather essential items. Though it is a rare thing here in Carver. I will admit, though, that I still have one purse that is leather, and several pairs of shoes.

With all of the advancements we have made in vegetarian foods, why is that non-leather items are so slow to follow?

Somewhat related: I was talking to a chemist friend of mine today who is reading up on early pioneers in his field and found nearly an entire book devoted to chemists who were found dead at their work benches for sniffing and/or tasting things they weren't supposed to sniff and/or taste. It got me wondering when chemists began doubting themselves so much that they decided to bring animals into the mix. I mean really, where is the self-confidence there?

And I have successfully cut fish from my diet yet again last week, after about five months of weakness. Swim on, little tunas.

Great news for free email.

Yahoo is now giving ya'll 100 MB. Started this week, I believe.

Hotmail will soon give ya'll 250 MB (unless you subscribe to MSN, like I do, and you will then get 2 GB. Yes, GIGA). They say this will start in "early July," but you know Microsoft.

This is all to compete with Google's new Gmail, which debuted in April and is still "unavailible to the public" (invitation only). Gmail gives everyone 1 GB of space. Because I use Blogger (owned by Google), I have Gmail (aren't I special?). If you would like a Gmail invitation (the good names are NOT taken yet), ask nicely, and I might hook you up with one. If I have any left, that is, and I'm not sure if I do.

So happy.

So happy that Jenna is back. So happy Chris posts photos now, since I have not seen many from his years in Sicily. So happy that I bought five new shirts today and a non-leather (!) belt. So happy that I, per Chris' recommendation, bought Ronin on DVD today. So happy that I had Chinese take-out for the second day in a row and that I had Panera Bread coffee twice today. So happy that we bought lots of fresh goodies from the farmers' market in Carbondale today and some more at the orchard down the street from the homestead. So happy that I talked to both of my brothers today on the phone.

Too many reasons to be happy to keep typing, really.

Posting photos.

Go here to see how. You have to download Hello, but it tells you where and how.

It's a disease.

I can't spell. I posted a response to "hoodeehooo" or something (why am I laughing out loud?) because I couldn't figure out how to post my own. BUT I'M GOOD NOW!!

CAFFEINE!! NOW!!!

What the hell is that?

Chris knows what this is. It was his idea to take a picture of it. See if you can guess what it is. And NO, it is not anything pornographic.

Chris A.K.A. "K" in Southern Illinois.

Chris and the Mustang at Giant City State Park, in Southern Illinois. June 2004.

You can read more about this visit which was, apparently, good for both men involved, at my other site.

Guess who's here?

Chris is in Southern Illinois. (In Eric Cartman voice) Kick ass!

Dark, man.

Chris, I suspect you had been reading Nausea, no? I knew you'd dig that book, man.

Well, I like what you've been writing a lot. You know I have always been attracted to darker writing, despite my sunny disposition. I even bought an Edgar A. Poe action figure at Mud and Metal during the Hon Fest. No shit.

So, if you were to begin a short story along the dark lines you have been, I think that would pretty much be the shiznit. Yes. Do it. I want to read it.

Yes, I was a Boy Scout; what are you gonna do about it?

In better news, my father and I just went to the Scout Shop and bought the new Boy Scout Field Book. It's very nice, and the new covers are excellent.

I also saw a kid who was in our troop way back when (he's an Eagle Scout and in college now), and he has a new Silver Mazda3, too. Funny.

Damned paint.

I give up. I spent an hour and a half sanding, and then I messed up what I just did with the touch-up paint. We're going to take it in to the body shop when we get home to Illinois. The spot is way too big for touch-up paint, it turns out. Damn it.

Touch-up paint.

Baby Joe helped me sand off some of the excess touch-up paint and apply more to smooth it. We have to sand that later, give it another coat, and then use the clear-coat touch-up. So, the Mazda has to stay in Dad's garage for yet another night. And we can't drive it. Boy, do I owe him a truck-wash -- which will be funny to watch, since I can't even reach the top of that thing.

The Focus' final failed mission.

This is what we were after when the Focus got wrecked. A quart of 1% milk.

This is also a test of the posting of photos using Hello and BloggerBot. Seems to work nicely.

No way.

Chris, no way is a Mustang a cock-extension. It's not about size, but about style. I love your car, man.

And the term phallus-adjustment...you need to copyright that. That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time.

Our car has a three-inch in diameter series of chips on the side panel extensions (stupid sporty plastic). I have no idea how that happened. It looks like an animal was trying to get into the car -- maybe that raccoon I almost killed last week. I am working on it with touch-up paint, sand paper (very very fine) and clear-coat touch-up. I'm very glad that Baby Joe knows what he is doing.

In other news, John T. Yingling, Assistant Scoutmaster of Troop 151 since 1990, is finally getting recognized tonight. He's being awarded the Hopkins District Award of Merit, the best award given at the District (not Council) level. I wrote one of his letters of recommendation.

I still call him Uncle John.

Re: Cock-Extension SUVs.

Chris: Amen, brother. Amen.
Down with SUVs.