There is nothing happening in California there is nothing happening in California there is nothing happening in California there is
It’s no use.
I’m not going to talk about this alot, because I’m sure it’s all over the blogosphere right now, just like it is the TV. I was going to wait to mention it until the results were official, but what am I here, the goddamn Associated Press? Jesus H. Kindergarten Cop on a Hitler-loving bicycle. Bring on the meteors.
I did a web search to find an embarrassing photo of Gov. Conan, and for some reason the one above came up. I think it summarizes the whole issue nicely.
Today, in and around mourning the state of American democracy, I began the process of cleaning up my study “that’s “home office” if you’re from the IRS”, and any of you who have been to Plooble HQ know what an Herculean task that is. “My cousin-in-law John said I should just call it “the garage,” and then it would be fine.” I also bought a sweet but relatively inexpensive Panasonic digital camera “with a Leica lens!” with some of the insurance money I got for the cool, old cameras that were stolen “I wonder how many rocks Mr. Burglar got for my Olympus 35SP rangefinder with spotmeter?”, so I took <a href=”<a href=”http://plooble.typepad.com/bleef/office before.html” onclick=”window.open”‘http://plooble.typepad.com/bleef/office before.html’,’popup’,’width=480,height=360,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0′”; return false” target = “_blank”</before and <a href=”<a href=”http://plooble.typepad.com/bleef/office after2.html” onclick=”window.open”‘http://plooble.typepad.com/bleef/office after2.html’,’popup’,’width=499,height=338,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0′”; return false” target = “_blank”</after pictures. In the before picture you can see my new desk chair, which, I swear to you, is called the “2Xtreme Sports Chair.” I don’t really do anything extreme in it, unless you count, er… blogging. It’s definitely too extreme. This afternoon I wanted to work on my resume, but my chair was out bungee jumping.
You can see some of my first digital efforts to pollute cyberspace in my new photo album. You can find the link wherever the hell the link will be once I’ve created it. I think it’s over there.
One of the fun things about cleaning up my study, in addition to being able to get to the window, has been finding old crap. In the process of spelunking through one pile I found the Harris Teeter receipt from my housewarming brunch in October of 1998. My cashier was Chiffon. You bastards ate $13.98 worth of smoked salmon, by the way. I also found a receipt from a store I’ve never heard of, let alone remember patronizing, called Gadzooks #191. Apparently I bought an S/S BLUE BLUR PLAID for $38.00. I didn’t know I owned any SS clothes. Maybe I can wear it to Arnold’s inaugural ball.
I also found my Dad’s Christmas wish list from probably 1999, in which he expressed his desire for four identical calculators. It actually makes perfect sense when you think about it.
The thing that made me feel especially slovenly and pack-rattish was finding utility bills from 1997 with my previous address on them, which means I must have brought a pile of starter crap with me to the new house. It’s kind of like making sourdough bread.
Coming soon to Fistful of Plooble: ANUSTART.