Nuts. It's been my pet theory/fear for a long time that Osama bin Laden had been captured but that the Bush administration was going to wait until oh, say, October to let the news out. Because what could be better than stepping up Bush's approval ratings right before a presidental election?

I've seen headlines from around the globe recently suggesting that we'd captured him or at least had him surrounded, but American officials continue to deny it. So, while I freely admit that I don't know what the heck is going on, this news story doesn't do anything to allay my fears.

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To paraphrase Ransom, it's wonderful that Monty Python and The Holy Grail is so good, or it would never live up to the credits.

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What are you listening to right now?

Me, I'm listening to traffic, and an airplane flying overhead, and I can faintly hear one of my co-workers playing Portishead in her office. Portishead is good. (Or is it, Portishead are good?)

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I just saw a political advertisement on a web page (was checking out Rabbit Hunting Online through the Elmer Fudd Dialectizer -- thanks for the link, Gary). There was a photo of G.W. and it said, "In these uncertain times, America needs a president whose foreign policy works." Then, "Click here to show your support" on a big red button.

Whuh? Are they suggesting that Bush's foreign policy works? Works how? To alienate us from the rest of the world? To piss off our major allies? Where's the button to click for "I'd like to know what the hell you think you mean by that?" I mean... Guh...

I'm speechless.

In other news, hurrah for San Francisco!!

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It is only because The Tao of Tea on Belmont is closed on Tuesdays that I developed such a strong dislike for Rollerball. If it weren't for that event, I might not have been assaulted by their music at all -- I might have never known.

I was meeting three friends for a nice, relaxing evening to chat, catch up with one another, and drink tea. But The Tao was closed, and so we headed over to Stumptown. We ordered our teas and coffee, we sat, we chatted. It was just as I was wondering what would happen if I told the women behind the counter that the music was making me angry that Leslie made a comment about how awful the music was. I eagerly agreed. Nancy decided it was like circus music, and we laughed for a little bit, making up scenes from the worst circus in the world: the tall man tumbles into the bearded lady who, until that point, was standing on the back of an elephant, and sixteen clowns spill out of the bathroom.

On the way out, Tracy asked the barista who we were listening to. The blonde one answered, rocking her head back and forth slowly on her neck. "Rollerball," she said, not quite nodding. She spoke slowly, and repeated it. "Rollerball."

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I imagine him driving past my house. He glares at it, narrowed eyes making the lines between his eyebrows even more pronounced. He hates me. He is happy to see that I've forgotten again.

He continues down the street, around the block to where his route begins, and his elation carries him down three blocks; he's floating on air as he stops in front of each house along the way. "Ha ha!" he thinks to himself as he chucks their discarded candy wrappers, paper towels, coffee grounds, kitty litter and the rest of their refuse into the back of his garbage truck. He sings a song he wrote, titled "That Stupid Bitch Forgot Again!" and permits himself a smug little smile.

Then he rounds the corner, pulling up to my neighbor's house, the brakes of his huge truck psshing and squeaking like they do. He sees that, in the fifteen minutes since he initially drove by to begin his route, I've emerged and left my garbage can out for him to empty. He seethes. He does not take the recycling. He leaves a note, saying that my garbage was not out by 8:45am and that it is not within three feet of the curb. But he does empty the garbage. "This time," the note seems to say, though it's not so blatant.

I am at war with my garbage man.

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New fun game! Throw Rocks at Boys. (link via kungfukitten)

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Mostly, it's when I try to explain my family that we strike me as odd. In my head, we're just a group of people, loosely stitched together in a patchwork quilt of sorts. At times, we form a cohesive unit, but in different ways depending on which side of the family you're talking about.

This all came up because of a question posed by former co-worker: "So," he asked, "are you the odd duck in your family?" It was obvious that he expected me to say yes, possibly without hesitation.

I hesitated.

"No," I finally said. The thing is, we're all kind of odd -- just in different ways. Of course, my family may disagree with me. There's always the chance that I am the odd duck and just don't know it. But I somehow doubt it.

I was reminded of this question while explaining that we're celebrating Christmas this weekend. "Really?!" asked almost everybody who heard this. Most of them followed this up with, "You're kidding!"

"No," I said, without hesitation. "I'm not kidding."

"We," in this case, refers to my mom, stepdad, sister, brother-in-law, brother, nephew, and neice. You see, we were all busy this holiday season, and didn't manage to find a weekend that would work for all of us until now. Since tradition is not really the order of the day for us, we put it off for a month and a half. Of course, Mom isn't super thrilled about still having Christmas presents laying around, but I don't mind so much.

Anyhow, I guess what I'm saying is, Merry Christmas. From my family to yours.

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Ever wondered what your site would look like to someone who is colorblind? With Vischeck, you might not get exact results, but I'm guessing you'll get pretty close. Neat!

Of course, if you already are colorblind, it's probably not all that exciting to you. According to the Vischeck site, roughly 10% of men are colorblind. That's surprising. Women, it turns out, are 20 times less likely to be colorblind, but can act as carriers and pass the gene along to their offspring. Craziness.

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Happy Free Beef Month!

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So, Punxsutawney Phil has predicted another six weeks of winter. However, I did some Googling and the three sites where I found statistics suggest that Phil only has a 40% success rate. Which means we're more likely to have an early spring than if he didn't see his shadow. Right?

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