Snow Day
So I took the day off work, because, I don't know, I looked at the snow outside and a choir of angels rose up and in a pious murmer exclaimed, "Meh."
If the roads were better I'd take this opportunity to go on my Booze Run and perhaps Buy Some Clothes, but this really is the kind of day where I just feel like napping, drinking hot drinks, and watching DVDs. And not driving on snowy roads.
I also think that there's something I'm forgetting, something I should do, but I'm going to ignore that damn meddling kids voice once again and follow through with my clever plan of once again doing nothing, nada, or at least very little. It's not that I deserve or have in any way earned a break from my slow life, just that I'm in a position to be rather ne'er-do-well with the understanding that I rar'y-do-bad, either. I'm something of a Neutral Lout, a class, if you will, that was sorely lacking in role-playing games and is perhaps why I never quite got into them.
Appropo of nothing: as I normally never post to Worryville from home, I had to log on for the first time and it turns out that I had no idea what my password was. Now I've long since come up with a series of passwords that I've used for the last 4 or 5 years, maybe 8 possibilities and just variations on a theme. One I use for actually important stuff, others for whatever, so it's usually just a run through the 8 to log onto anything. Seems simple, and nearly foolproof (if not exactly ultra-secure). Yet this is the third time in the last month where my (ha ha!) system has failed and I've had to reset a password. I've always wondered if my brain was defective (perhaps what they call in the drink industry an "underfill"), and now I have one more example I can point to when they start handing out money from the Dumb As Rocks Foundation. (DARF!)
Also, there was a hair in my coffee this morning. A long one. Actually, a long one connected to a shorter one by a root that, after pulling it off my lip and out of my mouth, suspended a milky drop of what was once perfectly fine coffee but was now liquid ookiness. It was an Ambush Follicle, actually, as I'm not currently over-run by sex-starved and wild haired nubile women, and actually haven't had a female over to my place since... I believe that from now on Misreall will have to wear a hair net in my kitchen when she visits.
If the roads were better I'd take this opportunity to go on my Booze Run and perhaps Buy Some Clothes, but this really is the kind of day where I just feel like napping, drinking hot drinks, and watching DVDs. And not driving on snowy roads.
I also think that there's something I'm forgetting, something I should do, but I'm going to ignore that damn meddling kids voice once again and follow through with my clever plan of once again doing nothing, nada, or at least very little. It's not that I deserve or have in any way earned a break from my slow life, just that I'm in a position to be rather ne'er-do-well with the understanding that I rar'y-do-bad, either. I'm something of a Neutral Lout, a class, if you will, that was sorely lacking in role-playing games and is perhaps why I never quite got into them.
Appropo of nothing: as I normally never post to Worryville from home, I had to log on for the first time and it turns out that I had no idea what my password was. Now I've long since come up with a series of passwords that I've used for the last 4 or 5 years, maybe 8 possibilities and just variations on a theme. One I use for actually important stuff, others for whatever, so it's usually just a run through the 8 to log onto anything. Seems simple, and nearly foolproof (if not exactly ultra-secure). Yet this is the third time in the last month where my (ha ha!) system has failed and I've had to reset a password. I've always wondered if my brain was defective (perhaps what they call in the drink industry an "underfill"), and now I have one more example I can point to when they start handing out money from the Dumb As Rocks Foundation. (DARF!)
Also, there was a hair in my coffee this morning. A long one. Actually, a long one connected to a shorter one by a root that, after pulling it off my lip and out of my mouth, suspended a milky drop of what was once perfectly fine coffee but was now liquid ookiness. It was an Ambush Follicle, actually, as I'm not currently over-run by sex-starved and wild haired nubile women, and actually haven't had a female over to my place since... I believe that from now on Misreall will have to wear a hair net in my kitchen when she visits.
posted by Greg at 6:38 AM
3 Comments:
Blah blah blah. Hairnet. Whatever. I seriously doubt that anything I might have shed in your kitchen (hair, skin, ideals) would still be hanging around.
It must be from one of the heads you have in your freezer.
misreall - you have a greater belief in the cleanliness of Raindog's kitchen than I.
but aside from that, I think we all know that at least the hair did not come from me...
and as for the passwords - I have decided to never let my computer or a site store a password for me - not because of some nameless security risk, but rather just because of what Raindog described.
If I have the computer remember the password, I definetly will not, and at some point in the future, this wiill totally burn my ass. It has happened to me enough times now that I feel it is far less trouble to constantly type in the needed password and forego the ability to just automatically enter a password protected site
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