Port of pass
I decided this week that I should get a passport. I’m not planning any overseas travel anytime soon (or ever for all I know) but I am beginning to irrationally worry that if I don’t get one (and therefore possess as much official documentation as possible), I’ll be harassed and possibly deported before 2008 for being a yellow-dog democrat.
It all seems pretty straightforward except for one thing I just need to get a copy of, which will probably be the part that bogs this process down for months (and which I may already have a copy of if I can find it [argh]).
Maybe this will all be incredibly easy, painless, and efficient.
…
Stop laughing at me.
Stonehenge round-up (pardon the pun)
“‘It is the richest – by that I mean the filthiest – site of this period known in Britain,’ Professor Parker Pearson told BBC News.” [via]
“Archaeologists have uncovered what may have been a village for workers or festival-goers near the mysterious stone circle Stonehenge in England. The village was located at Durrington Walls, about two miles from Stonehenge, and is also the location of a wooden version of the stone circle.” [via]
“The sites of eight huts have been excavated. Each is about five metres square with a clay floor and central hearth. Post holes mark the homes’ outline and slots the planks for bed frames and cupboards. Two grander buildings, surrounded by fences and ditches, may have been the homes of chieftains or priests – or possibly the spirits. The more modest houses were found littered with debris, including pot shards and tools. But no household waste was found in the larger ones, suggesting that for ritual purposes they may have been kept empty except for a constantly tended fire.” [via]
Okay. Whatever. This is still my favorite Stonehenge story.
Therapeutic cataloging
Damn you*, Victoria! You’ve got me obsessively cataloging words I like.
In truth, it is very soothing to drift from word to word, adding them to the list for no other reason than the satisfaction of simply having them listed somewhere. In under an hour, I’ve generated nearly 200 words, so I hate to think what the list will look like a few days from now.
*Not really.
Hairy
I thought you would all like to know that I’ve just about sorted out my hair. After getting it trimmed again last Thursday so that it was less astronaut’s wife* and more young single woman in her 30s, I have had to give in and purchase two things I generally try to avoid: a round brush and styling wax.
My personal grooming routine is pretty low maintenance, so I haven’t “styled” my hair in years. I wash it, dry it, brush it and maybe clip it up if I am so inclined. Now I have to pay a little bit of attention to the bangs (or fringe, if you prefer) or they’ll feather and make me look like an extra from Charlie’s Angels. Hence the round brush and wax.
And yet.
The round brush is perilous because it can make the bangs fluffy which is simply not me. So I’ve spent the past couple of mornings wrestling with said hair and implements to achieve a look that is not humiliating.
The wax is perilous in its own way because it’s … well, waxy. There’s really only one way to determine how much wax is too much and once you’ve done that, you cannot leave the house until you’ve washed your hair again and started all over.
So, I am managing quite well, thank you, after a brief period of self-absorbed depression, frustration, and petulance.
I would post a photo but I am, I’m afraid, like one of my uncles who once said his pictures never flatter him enough.
*Credit Marigoldie who credits Annie Hall.
Rut ro
You know, The Young and the Restless is turning into Scooby-Doo lately and I don’t like it.
Er … really?
Yes. They’re insulting my intelligence.
And this is different from the way Y&R has always been … how?
[?]
That’ll teach you to underestimate a Mongolian horse
I occasionally catch myself watching Digging for the Truth on the History Channel and every time I do, I have to ask myself why. Setting aside the fact that Josh Bernstein is pretty hot, I find the show generally shallow. Then again, I am such a nerd that I have read about most of the things he’s exploring and am easily frustrated by the kind of detail he leaves out.
Tonight’s episode is about Gengis Khan (or Gengis Khaan or Chingis Khan or Madeline Khan or whatever) and ol’ Josh was just thrown by a Mongolian horse, a breed of animal that does not suffer fools gladly. The best part was his (Josh’s) recovery, a classic, macho “nothing to see here” stance and attitude accompanied by an obvious statement that perhaps he should have a little more respect for these horses.
Dumb-ass.
Photography things
New photos from my Dad:
All of his photos are here.
And there’s still time to vote for me over at JPG Magazine. *cough*
Side effect
I want you all to know that that Tylenol Cold liquid medicine stuff is fantastic. I slept really well last night and feel quite a bit better today, the best I have felt in about a week. There is, however, a peculiar side effect that isn’t mentioned anywhere in the documentation and that I think I must warn you about.
Apparently, if you take the full dose, you will have a dream in which you are watching a David Lee Roth* video of his hit song about Condoleeza Rice. The video was part concert performance and part acting sequence stuff with a cameo by the Secretary of State herself of course. Roth’s band was comprised entirely of midgets dressed in spandex and feathers just like Roth himself. They were all rocking out. Except Rice. She’s about as flexible and natural as Al Gore. She wasn’t wearing spandex or feathers either.
The only lyric (if I many I use that term so loosely) I remember from the song is “Condoleeza Rice pays full price.”
WTF?
*Looking as he did in his solo career days immediately post-Van Halen and before all his hair broke off and the crazy started showing in his eyes ALL THE TIME.
Parking violations
Is it so very difficult to park in a marked parking space? Is this asking too much of civilized society? Don’t you find it comforting to see cars neatly parked at the same angle and equidistant from each other?
I have been fighting the urge all day to print off some of those You Park Like an Asshole notices and stick them on most of the cars parked out in front of my building. It’s a private street in an apartment complex and there’s plenty of parking, but still. Why are the cars arrayed like pick-up sticks? Why? And why just in front of my building? It’s personal. I just know it is.
