Holy shit! Flame thrower now an option on S. African cars. (Okay, so it's kind of old news, but still... Wow.)

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I went and listened to Congressman Blumenauer speak on Bush's Social Security plan today. The most interesting and powerful statement he made was also one of the simplest: Social Security is not in crisis. If we continue the way we are now, according to Blumenauer's projections, Social Security will have enough money until 2052. That's if we do nothing at all to change it. At that point, we'll have 78% of the funds that are going out coming back in, so we'll be short by 22%. Bush's proposed private accounts plan will result in 40% less benefits received by the time I retire. Not only that, but people over the age of 55, who are supposedly "safe" under Bush's plan, will actually see a 10% decrease in benefits starting in 2009.

So, I think what it comes down to is an ideological debate: Do you believe that Social Security is a good idea? If you do, Bush's plan is ridiculous. If you don't, Bush's plan puts the nail in the coffin, or at least gets it started.

Personally, I think Bush's plan is a huge load of crap, and I don't think he's being honest or above-board with what he's doing. I think he's among those who would like to see all social programs go the way of the dodo, and Social Security is among the larger social programs.

If this is a topic that interests you, be sure to let your representatives know what you think about it. It will only take one vote in the House and one in the Senate for it to pass, and that's frightening. Blumenauer said this is a watershed issue, though, and that congress is keeping its ears open, so make sure your voice gets heard. You can send email, write letters or call. Senator Smith's secretary told me writing personal letters tends to have more of an impact, but if you don't have time for that at least give a shout out on the phone or via email.

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When I was a kid, I usually had scabs on my knees. I would pick them off, even though you're not supposed to. I figured once they started lifting at the edges, where they were almost see-through, it was time to help them along.

The worst scabs that I remember were when I was about seven. I was running with our dog Stonie on the sidewalk in our back yard. This was at our first house in Sonoma, where we had a sidewalk going around our entire house. It was great because my sister and I could take turns pushing each other in the wagon and the rider could steer all the way around. You had to be a skillful driver because the sidewalk was fairly narrow, and there was ivy off to the side after a pretty tight turn. There were tons of snails and spiders and things in the ivy, so you definitely didn't want to have to step in there to get the wagon out.

Anyhow, I was running around with our dog and I fell and completely skinned up one knee. I was very proud of myself for not crying because I was a bit of a cry baby back then. But nobody was watching, so that probably helped. It stung when my mom cleaned it up, and I got a huge scab covering most of my knee.

It was already scabbed over by the time we went to the park. My dad was pushing me on the swings. "Higher, higher!" was always the cry. He pushed me very, very high -- at least it seemed so to me, but I was short for my age back then. I remember one of my mom's friends shaking her head at me once when I said I wanted to be tall. "Your sister will be 6'," she said, "but you probably won't ever be very tall." My family called me Short Stuff -- not all the time, but enough for me to remember it as one of my first nicknames. I'm 5'10" now, so I guess my mom's friend was wrong. I won't tell you how tall my sister is because we disagree on that, but she's not taller than me.

Anyhow, "Higher!" I demanded and higher he pushed. Then he walked away to check on my sister or just stand off to the side because he was tired of pushing. Earlier that day, the big kids had jumped off the swings. My sister and I were always daring each other to jump. I don't remember what made me do it that day; I guess I just figured not much bad could happen. My mom and dad were there, so obviously I was safe.

I pumped my legs. I considered it. I picked a spot to land. I waited until the swing was at the end of its upward swing and...

I jumped.

I landed on both knees, the scabbed one and the not scabbed one. The scab was no match for the sand, nor was the flesh on my other knee. I won't lie to you, it was a bloody mess. Your knees can bleed a lot, it turns out. It was also a huge shock, so I didn't manage to be as stoic this time. I cried. And I cried. We went home after that, and I had matching scabs covering both my knees for a little while. They were pretty badass.

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Classiest. Motel. Ever.


Sign from inside the rooms at the Westward Ho (a.k.a. The Dirty Ho). Las Vegas, NV.

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Some things don't require commentary: Makeup Tips for the Bleak.

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This domain not for sale.

Someone sent me an email yesterday asking if my domain was for sale and if so, what's the price. The someone didn't include a name, (signed it with SW Graphics) which makes me think it's spam, so I'm not responding. If you are SW Graphics and are actually interested in buying this domain, that's kind of neat for me. But not so much for you because I don't want to sell.

Then again, I live in a country founded on the idea that everybody has their price, and I'm no exception. So, offer me a cool mil, and we'll talk turkey.

Even then, I'd have misgivings (though I'd somehow get through it). I like it here. I've been here since 1999. Even if I weren't paying for the domain registration, I think I'd have squatter's rights by now.

So, politely, thank you, but no.

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On Friday, I got to see The Lightning Bugs play, which was rad. They get better every time I see them. Joe even faced the crowd for the most part AND she was tapping her foot and singing along. Eventually she's going to have to admit that she likes the sissy pop music.

Left to my own devices, I would have gone home early, but I was talked into staying for the Flip-Tops and the Clorox Girls. Both were a lot of fun. The only bad thing about the evening, aside from the fact that I was tremendously sleepy, was the dude who wanted to mosh when nobody else did. He had ample room for flailing within reason, but insisted on bumping into me anyhow. I didn't actually punch him in the face, but I thought about it a lot.

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I'd be a rich woman if I had a dollar for every time...

• I've coughed in the last four weeks.
• I met a person named Jess(i)e I've met in the last couple of years.
• someone has sung or played all or part of Jessie's Girl for me in the last year and a half, despite the fact that it's spelled wrong.
• I witnessed someone doing something insanely stupid in traffic.
• I've thought "today, I will edit my novel and become a famous author" and didn't.
• I worked an hour of overtime in the past year.
• I quoted The Princess Bride. Or The Jerk.

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I think I'll go to Gdansk.

Or maybe Cinque Terre.

I'll start on the East Coast, visiting family and friends in the New York/New Jersey area (and maybe Philadelphia and Maryland, if time allows).

Ooh, I've never been to Luxembourg.

These are the thoughts running through my head lately. My boss says it's likely that I can have September off. (Oktoberfest, perhaps?) A whole month to travel and remember who I am when I don't sit in the glare of the computer all day long. A whole month to wake up and wonder, "Where should I go today?" A whole month of puttering and train travel and just packing up and going.

I get to buy a new ruck sack. Mine still has the sludge from Polish floods staining it. Also, it opens from the top and everything I might possibly need manages to float to the bottom. It's good practice for when I go blind and have to learn to find all my clothes by feel, but not very convenient for world travel. Then again, I have good memories with that ruck sack (four months in Europe in 1997, a trip to New York, and countless trips to the laundromat when I landed back in Portland and didn't have a car). Then again, I kind of like the Polish flood sludge. I might just clean it up a bit and take it anyhow.

I'm not much for organizing my travels. I'm a big fan of showing up and following my whims. So, it's likely that I'll allow plane fares to determine my ultimate starting point, within reason. I'm also fairly convinced that it doesn't matter where I go. Just going is the whole point.

But, out of curiosity, where would you go?

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