n e r d y g i r l . c o m

:: Thursday, February 27 ::

I was talking to my roving field reporter, Paul, about the war on Iraq. Paul, in addition to being my step-dad, is British, and was recently over in England visiting his family. He said that Blair's in pretty deep trouble (and seems to be getting in deeper all the time). Apparently, people have started referring to him as "Vice President" Blair. Ouch.

Paul was pretty disappointed in the PM. He was impressed that Blair held open town hall-style meetings and answered as many questions as possible, but was discouraged that he couldn't answer one question: why don't we just arrest Saddam Hussein and deal with him that way? What's standing in our way? They say he can't be found: he has look-a-likes and goes into hiding. "But," Paul writes, "I just watched a piece last night on CNN with Dan Rather talking about the interview he just had with Saddam. Am I missing something here?" And that's where the whole things starts to feel like a big, huge joke.

Also on the topic of war, I asked Chimera to tell us his thoughts in the comments box the other day. Since he's always telling me I'm wrong, I figured I'd get him to tell me what he thinks is right, and he did. It's long, but definitely compelling and worth the read: Chimera on Iraq.

link

I've got two words for you: Southpaw Haiku. You see, I was happily working away yesterday, when I got an instant message from my pal, Silky. "What's the longest word you can type with just your left hand?" he asked me. I had heard the answer before, but couldn't remember it. I came up with 'exacerbated' before doing a google search to find out that it's 'stewardesses' (in English, anyhow). So then he decides to throw out the idea of haiku typed only with the left hand. At least his timing was good -- I was about due for a break anyhow, and I spent a good five minutes coming up with:

a dear cad gets rat
a cabaret act was rad
rat was great reader

Of course it doesn't make any sense, but it was the best I could do, given the time constraints. So now, I introduce to the rest of you the concept of Southpaw Haiku. Do with it what you will.

link

:: Monday, February 24 ::

When I describe the winter sun in Portland as a mocking presence, at best, I mean days like today. Days when it's cold enough without the chilly East wind whipping through town. A first glance outside the window can be deceptive: there's not a cloud in the sky. It looks cheery and warm and springlike. But if you look more closely, at the pedestrians hunched over against the wind, mussed up hair swirling around their heads, you can see that they are not warm; not by a long shot. The trees even look cold, moving stiffly in the wind like someone who forgot to get drunk before hitting the dance floor.

link

:: Thursday, February 20 ::

I was talking to my friend, Mike, tonight and he said that he'd heard a potentially plausible explanation for why Bush and his cronies are so interested in war. It honestly makes more sense than anything I've heard before, so tell me if you've heard this theory and what you think of it. The reason might be that Iraq has started trading oil for Euros instead of American Dollars. It's about currency and its value. If other countries follow in Iraq's footsteps, or if OPEC decides to adopt the Euro for oil trades, the American dollar could be worth 20-40% less. The figures might be off, but you get the general picture. Even 5% is a lot if it's spread out over an entire currency.

Anyhow, the theory goes that if the U.S. can set up a puppet regime in Iraq and get them to switch back to American currency for their oil trades, we'll be better off. Much better off. At any rate, I guess it's a theory that makes more sense to me than anything I've heard so far...

Here's an article on the topic.

link

:: Tuesday, February 18 ::

In my dream last night, a band of clouds opened up in the sky, and I rode up to a parallel universe on a beam of light. I had a good time, and the people there explained to me that it was only possible because the other me, my parallel universe equivalent, was also in the right placetime (this is my new, shortened version of "right place at the right time" -- I just made it up). So my parallel universe twin and I traded places. It was explained to me that we were like mirror twins, with everything the opposite.

When I got back, I tried to tell everybody about the parallel universe, but they just stared at me, blankly. "Didn't you notice that I was left-handed all last week?" I asked them. They were shaking their heads as I woke up.

link

:: Sunday, February 16 ::

I went jogging this morning in my new running shoes. I don't generally think of jogging as something I like, but as I was out there, my feet softly, rhythmically pressing into the all-weather track, I was reminded of track season in high school, and sort of escaped into my own little world of track memories.

During track season, I would usually spend as much time as I could get away with lazing around on the high jump pits. The high jump was my event of choice, followed by the long and triple jumps; I've never been much of a runner. Every spring, I am reminded of the feel of track season -- the smell of the freshly-mowed grass and pollens swirling about in the breeze, the warmth in the air, and the way the high jump pits would get warm in the sun and how, when I landed on them, it was so easy to just sink in and relax with the sun on my face. Oh, I now it's not spring yet, but it sure has felt like it lately. (Of course, this is because we've broken our planet, but that's a different story entirely).

link

:: Tuesday, February 11 ::

Check it out: my dad's band has a web site. If you look at the bios, my dad is "Fred What-His-Name". I didn't know about the knitting or bug collecting -- I'll have to get some pointers on how to complete the scarf I've been working on for the past five years. Anyhow, my dad's been playing guitar since about the time he could walk, and he's damn good, if I do say so myself. When we were little, Dad would play his guitar and sing songs for my sister and me before we went to sleep. He always ended with Good Night Ladies, our cue that it was time to close our eyes and go to sleep. Man, I hated that song (although I'm rather fond of it now).

link

:: Sunday, February 9 ::

Every once in awhile, my mother becomes an activist. In an e-mail she sent this morning, she wrote:

Did you see the show on Michael Jackson the other night? It was like watching a bad car wreck. ...we need to appeal to the women of the world to stop producing children for him. He is one sick puppy.

I didn't see the show, so I don't know exactly what went on. Still, I can't imagine any woman having a baby for Michael Jackson, though I'm sure it pays well. But what a sad thing to do to another human being -- because even if Michael Jackson is as loving and wonderful a parent as he claims to be, you're still putting the child in the middle of a freak show/media circus. It seems mean to give that kind of life to any child.

So, women of the world, my mother and I implore you: don't have babies for Michael Jackson.

link

:: Friday, February 7 ::

Well, it's February, and you know what that means. Free beef.

link

:: Wednesday, February 5 ::

Yesterday, the owner of the company I work for sent out a message to everyone ecouraging us to take 20 minutes out of the work day to write to our house reps and senators and tell them how we feel about the situation with Iraq. He began by saying, "While I know you're all working hard right now (if you aren't, we need to have a chat about that), every once in a while, something comes along which requires we take a break, think about things on a bigger scale and do something."

I'm pretty impressed by that, and I did take 20 minutes out to send messages to both Oregon senators and my house rep. Perhaps what impressed me the most was that his e-mail wasn't politically charged. He very plainly stated that no matter what our views are, we should express them -- even if only to say that we are "comfortable letting the executive branch and the defense department work this out". No matter what, he urged, "say something, because a democracy, the most fragile government of them all depends on participation by the people, and we're at risk of becoming an oligarchy at best."

So, I would like to pass the message along. Here are the links he provided -- they make it easy to submit a letter through web sites that are set up for just this sort of thing.

www.housegov.htbin/wrep_findrep
http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm

link

:: Monday, February 3 ::

Update: Okay, it turns out this e-mail message was spam. What a bunch of lamers. So, if you get an e-mail from Kara, don't feel too special. Other types of e-mail harvesting spam include messages that say "I'm sorry I didn't reply to your last e-mail..." and things like that. Basically, the spammers want you to write back so they know they've got an e-mail address that people check. In the case of the Kara e-mail, they're also probably looking for lonely people to whom they might be able to sell penis enlargers.

"Hi there" was the subject line of a rather curious e-mail I received yesterday. The author of the e-mail (we'll call her K) went on to say that "I noticed your profile online and figured I'd drop ya a line....I bet that doesn't happen to you everyday!"

Indeed, it doesn't. 26-year-old women don't usually e-mail me and ask for pics, or offer to send me some, nor do they sign their e-mails "xoxo". K seems to be the agressive type, if you ask me. Very forward, though she did mention the e-mail being a bit awkward for her.

The thing is, I don't know what profile she's talking about. The e-mail was addressed to a yahoo.com e-mail address, yet it showed up in my inbox when I checked my nerdygirl.com e-mail -- highly suspicious. The only profile I have is for my Yahoo! IM account, so it could be that one -- but if I recall correctly, I checked off the gender on that as female. I've considered the possibility that K is looking for a woman, but I kind of ruled it out based on her e-mail. In my experience, only heterosexuals take orientation for granted -- she clearly thought she was sending her e-mail to someone who dates women. So, unless one of my lesbian friends decided to be funny and set up a gay profile for me (they get extra points for recruiting, you know), K's e-mail went to the wrong person.

link

	:: Thursday, February 27 :: I was talking to my roving field reporter, Paul, about the war on Iraq. Paul, in addition to being my step-dad, is British, and was recently over in England visiting his family. He said that Blair's in pretty deep trouble (and seems to be getting in deeper all the time). Apparently, people have started referring to him as "Vice President" Blair. Ouch. Paul was pretty disappointed in the PM. He was impressed that Blair held open town hall-style meetings and answered as many questions as possible, but was discouraged that he couldn't answer one question: why don't we just arrest Saddam Hussein and deal with him that way? What's standing in our way? They say he can't be found: he has look-a-likes and goes into hiding. "But," Paul writes, "I just watched a piece last night on CNN with Dan Rather talking about the interview he just had with Saddam. Am I missing something here?" And that's where the whole things starts to feel like a big, huge joke. Also on the topic of war, I asked Chimera to tell us his thoughts in the comments box the other day. Since he's always telling me I'm wrong, I figured I'd get him to tell me what he thinks is right, and he did. It's long, but definitely compelling and worth the read: Chimera on Iraq. link I've got two words for you: Southpaw Haiku. You see, I was happily working away yesterday, when I got an instant message from my pal, Silky. "What's the longest word you can type with just your left hand?" he asked me. I had heard the answer before, but couldn't remember it. I came up with 'exacerbated' before doing a google search to find out that it's 'stewardesses' (in English, anyhow). So then he decides to throw out the idea of haiku typed only with the left hand. At least his timing was good -- I was about due for a break anyhow, and I spent a good five minutes coming up with: a dear cad gets rat a cabaret act was rad rat was great reader Of course it doesn't make any sense, but it was the best I could do, given the time constraints. So now, I introduce to the rest of you the concept of Southpaw Haiku. Do with it what you will. link :: Monday, February 24 :: When I describe the winter sun in Portland as a mocking presence, at best, I mean days like today. Days when it's cold enough without the chilly East wind whipping through town. A first glance outside the window can be deceptive: there's not a cloud in the sky. It looks cheery and warm and springlike. But if you look more closely, at the pedestrians hunched over against the wind, mussed up hair swirling around their heads, you can see that they are not warm; not by a long shot. The trees even look cold, moving stiffly in the wind like someone who forgot to get drunk before hitting the dance floor. link :: Thursday, February 20 :: I was talking to my friend, Mike, tonight and he said that he'd heard a potentially plausible explanation for why Bush and his cronies are so interested in war. It honestly makes more sense than anything I've heard before, so tell me if you've heard this theory and what you think of it. The reason might be that Iraq has started trading oil for Euros instead of American Dollars. It's about currency and its value. If other countries follow in Iraq's footsteps, or if OPEC decides to adopt the Euro for oil trades, the American dollar could be worth 20-40% less. The figures might be off, but you get the general picture. Even 5% is a lot if it's spread out over an entire currency. Anyhow, the theory goes that if the U.S. can set up a puppet regime in Iraq and get them to switch back to American currency for their oil trades, we'll be better off. Much better off. At any rate, I guess it's a theory that makes more sense to me than anything I've heard so far... Here's an article on the topic. link :: Tuesday, February 18 :: In my dream last night, a band of clouds opened up in the sky, and I rode up to a parallel universe on a beam of light. I had a good time, and the people there explained to me that it was only possible because the other me, my parallel universe equivalent, was also in the right placetime (this is my new, shortened version of "right place at the right time" -- I just made it up). So my parallel universe twin and I traded places. It was explained to me that we were like mirror twins, with everything the opposite. When I got back, I tried to tell everybody about the parallel universe, but they just stared at me, blankly. "Didn't you notice that I was left-handed all last week?" I asked them. They were shaking their heads as I woke up. link :: Sunday, February 16 :: I went jogging this morning in my new running shoes. I don't generally think of jogging as something I like, but as I was out there, my feet softly, rhythmically pressing into the all-weather track, I was reminded of track season in high school, and sort of escaped into my own little world of track memories. During track season, I would usually spend as much time as I could get away with lazing around on the high jump pits. The high jump was my event of choice, followed by the long and triple jumps; I've never been much of a runner. Every spring, I am reminded of the feel of track season -- the smell of the freshly-mowed grass and pollens swirling about in the breeze, the warmth in the air, and the way the high jump pits would get warm in the sun and how, when I landed on them, it was so easy to just sink in and relax with the sun on my face. Oh, I now it's not spring yet, but it sure has felt like it lately. (Of course, this is because we've broken our planet, but that's a different story entirely). link :: Tuesday, February 11 :: Check it out: my dad's band has a web site. If you look at the bios, my dad is "Fred What-His-Name". I didn't know about the knitting or bug collecting -- I'll have to get some pointers on how to complete the scarf I've been working on for the past five years. Anyhow, my dad's been playing guitar since about the time he could walk, and he's damn good, if I do say so myself. When we were little, Dad would play his guitar and sing songs for my sister and me before we went to sleep. He always ended with Good Night Ladies, our cue that it was time to close our eyes and go to sleep. Man, I hated that song (although I'm rather fond of it now). link :: Sunday, February 9 :: Every once in awhile, my mother becomes an activist. In an e-mail she sent this morning, she wrote: Did you see the show on Michael Jackson the other night? It was like watching a bad car wreck. ...we need to appeal to the women of the world to stop producing children for him. He is one sick puppy. I didn't see the show, so I don't know exactly what went on. Still, I can't imagine any woman having a baby for Michael Jackson, though I'm sure it pays well. But what a sad thing to do to another human being -- because even if Michael Jackson is as loving and wonderful a parent as he claims to be, you're still putting the child in the middle of a freak show/media circus. It seems mean to give that kind of life to any child. So, women of the world, my mother and I implore you: don't have babies for Michael Jackson. link :: Friday, February 7 :: Well, it's February, and you know what that means. Free beef. link :: Wednesday, February 5 :: Yesterday, the owner of the company I work for sent out a message to everyone ecouraging us to take 20 minutes out of the work day to write to our house reps and senators and tell them how we feel about the situation with Iraq. He began by saying, "While I know you're all working hard right now (if you aren't, we need to have a chat about that), every once in a while, something comes along which requires we take a break, think about things on a bigger scale and do something." I'm pretty impressed by that, and I did take 20 minutes out to send messages to both Oregon senators and my house rep. Perhaps what impressed me the most was that his e-mail wasn't politically charged. He very plainly stated that no matter what our views are, we should express them -- even if only to say that we are "comfortable letting the executive branch and the defense department work this out". No matter what, he urged, "say something, because a democracy, the most fragile government of them all depends on participation by the people, and we're at risk of becoming an oligarchy at best." So, I would like to pass the message along. Here are the links he provided -- they make it easy to submit a letter through web sites that are set up for just this sort of thing. www.housegov.htbin/wrep_findrep http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm link :: Monday, February 3 :: Update: Okay, it turns out this e-mail message was spam. What a bunch of lamers. So, if you get an e-mail from Kara, don't feel too special. Other types of e-mail harvesting spam include messages that say "I'm sorry I didn't reply to your last e-mail..." and things like that. Basically, the spammers want you to write back so they know they've got an e-mail address that people check. In the case of the Kara e-mail, they're also probably looking for lonely people to whom they might be able to sell penis enlargers. "Hi there" was the subject line of a rather curious e-mail I received yesterday. The author of the e-mail (we'll call her K) went on to say that "I noticed your profile online and figured I'd drop ya a line....I bet that doesn't happen to you everyday!" Indeed, it doesn't. 26-year-old women don't usually e-mail me and ask for pics, or offer to send me some, nor do they sign their e-mails "xoxo". K seems to be the agressive type, if you ask me. Very forward, though she did mention the e-mail being a bit awkward for her. The thing is, I don't know what profile she's talking about. The e-mail was addressed to a yahoo.com e-mail address, yet it showed up in my inbox when I checked my nerdygirl.com e-mail -- highly suspicious. The only profile I have is for my Yahoo! IM account, so it could be that one -- but if I recall correctly, I checked off the gender on that as female. I've considered the possibility that K is looking for a woman, but I kind of ruled it out based on her e-mail. In my experience, only heterosexuals take orientation for granted -- she clearly thought she was sending her e-mail to someone who dates women. So, unless one of my lesbian friends decided to be funny and set up a gay profile for me (they get extra points for recruiting, you know), K's e-mail went to the wrong person. link	where's my rocket car? current issue 2002 issue bloggage... 50 cups beefpile bluishorange blogjunky chattering magpie fox in the snow fush! kungfukitten little.yellow.different. me head plasticbag royal rodent semaphoria sir cringe timmie tv tumbleweed for fun... fingertip haiku my brother's book but now i see brunching shuttlecocks mcsweeneys lists bookcrossing.com structurehack web-goddess.net gristle.org archives... 4/2001 to 3/2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003
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