Hostile air freshener
The ladies room at work now has a new issue: a hostile air freshener. For two days now, it has been barking orders: “PLEASE REPLACE REFILL!” in a tone more authoritative and frightening than the fire alarm system. First, there is a startlingly loud and tinny beep and then the voice of DOOM comes on and demands a refill replacement NOW. This repeats twice and then the …thing, which I had heretofore never even noticed, falls silent. I expect it to start becoming increasing hysterical (and Teutonic) in a few days:
PLEASE REPLACE REFILL.
PLEASE REPLACE REFILL!
VE HAF VAYS OF MAKINK YOU REPLACE ZE REFILL.
I KNOW YOU HAVE ZE REFILL WITH YOU. REPLACE IT NOW!!!
VAT ARE YOU VAITINK FOR!? REPLACE ZE REFILL!!!! NOW!!!!!
I VILL FIND YOU VEREVER YOU ARE AND TAKE ZE REFILL FROM YOU. ZE REFILL MUST! BE! REPLACED! NOW!
I don’t think it can be reasoned with. I’m scared.
In a galaxy far, far away where a dog is alien-napped…
I missed the whole video game movement so I don’t know diddly-squat about them, but thanks to Isoglossia, I’ve gotten sucked into this. It is not a high-energy fast-paced game but it is intriguing and I am completely mildly obsessed with it.
I’ve done fairly well thus far I supposed but am now in this place where I cannot figure out what to do* and IT IS MAKING ME CRAZY. Okay, crazier. And yet … it truly is inexplicably soothing.
All the hardcore gamers and geeks out there won’t have any use for this game and certain know-it-alls have gone out of their way to tell me that it is too slow for them, but guess what? I. Don’t. Care. As Isoglossia put it, “The little galaxy you enter feels like a fusion of Hieronymus Bosch, Terry Gilliam’s collage-animation, and a Sigur Ros album (the soundtrack of the game has a lot to do with explicating that soothingness, it turns out).”
*In the room with the Jabba the Hut creature in the chair, the dog is running in the wheel to power the fan, and dude gets sucked up into some opening in the ceiling, which is what I think I am supposed to somehow prevent or something. I made it through part one and have to buy the game to play part two, which I almost certainly will do.
Cheesecake
UPDATE: The cheesecake was good. The crust was a different recipe (flour, sugar, butter) from what I am used to (graham cracker crumbs) and turned out rather like dwarf bread but tasty. Next time I’ll do the graham cracker crust.
The ziti was awesome by the way.
————-
I’m baking a cheesecake.
This will either be a comedy of errors — new oven, new springform pan, different recipe because I can’t find mine – or a triumph of my culinary skills. Needless to say, I am holding my breath. Cheesecake is dangerous, and not just because of the caloric content. You never know, until it comes out of the oven, if it worked. Did it cook properly or is it liquid in the middle? Did all the ingredients somehow separate into warring factions in the pan? When I open the form, will it stay intact? Will it taste good?
Assuming it isn’t a disaster, I am taking it to Sunday brunch at Ogre’s house. As an adopted member of the family, I get the benefit of many things, not the least of which is a home-cooked, balanced meal every Sunday. Today Ogre and his better half get to enjoy food prepared by others for a change. I think the main course is baked ziti, courtesy of youngest daughter and her fiance. Mmmmm.
I’ll let you know how the cheesecake turns out. No doubt the ziti will, at least, be good.
Note to self
Dear Self:
Do not go home and take a 2-hour nap and think that you will be able to get any sleep that night. Set the alarm. Sleep for 20-30 minutes tops.
Sincerely,
Self
P.S. What the HELL were you thinking taking a 2-hour nap? You know you will regret it, feel awful, and be unable to sleep later that night. You KNOW you’ll lie awake, tossing and turning because you are determined to relax and sleep even though your body and mind are resisting it since they’re both COMPLETELY rested from the big-ass nap you took earlier that evening. Moron. And? DO NOT drink that diet coke at 9pm because that will only contribute to the not sleepingness. Yeah, face it: you’re too old to drink caffeinated beverages past about 7pm and not end up tired, surly, and grim looking the next morning.
Hi. My name is Jagosaurus and I … am a metal dog.
Seriously:
“Metal Dogs have extremely high standards and expect a lot of themselves and of others. They are loyal and hold a strong outlook about the direction they want their life to take. They choose their friends and causes with care, as they do not plan to ever not support these people and things again. Once they have committed themselves, there is little to no turning back. They are bold, unafraid to disagree out loud about anything they feel is unjust or unfair. Metal Dogs are easily stressed if a plan does not go accordingly. They find it difficult to relax when there are things to be done.”
(Found via Pop Culture Junk Mail, which is also where I found this sign, something I desperately need around here.)
