I’m writing this from a moving car, on the way to Virginia. By the time I can post this, I’ll either be in Virginia or in a hospital bed (after the unlikely event of a car crash).

We’re listening to the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack, because the kidling started crying (not sure why). Be our guest, be our guest, be our guest...

Chip the teacup has always been, and will always be, my favorite character. He’s so cute!

Y’know what I would really, really love? A pet dragon. One big enough to ride around on. It’d have to have great big wings, like a 30- or 40-foot wingspan or something, and huge chest muscles. It’d be the standard 4-leg 2-wing model, I guess, like a typical European dragon. I could ride around on it and conquer nearby castles beat morning rush hour. Dragons are so cool.

Taylor Swift. She is incredibly talented and freakin’ gorgeous. But she really, really needs to get over Joe Jonas. Like, yes, he was kind of a jerk when he broke up with you, but hasn’t it been like a year now? More? He’s just a boy, Taylor. Haven’t you cried him out of your system yet?

That’s right, dear. Just leave him in the tissue. There, there. *chucks tissue in the trash*


Now we’re listening to the first CD (of 3) of The Magnetic Fields’ ’69 Love Songs.’ I got it for Christmas. I actually really like it- I don’t think I’d ever even heard of them, but they’re good. The singer’s voice is pretty weird, but in a good way. So, uh, yeah. Go listen to them. I suggest “I Don’t Believe in the Sun,” song-wise.

[in VA]
The names of the 2 networks here are “Gondor” and “Mordor”. Mordor has better connection, so I’m trying to get into that first. I’ve tried “aragornking”, “aragornsonofarathorn”, “onecannotsimplywalkinto”, “lordoftherings”, “ringofpower”, “sauron”, “eyeofsauron”, “saruman1”, “whitehandofsaruman”, “theodenking”, “legolas”, “fellowshipofthering”, “thetwotowers”, “returnoftheking”, “ridersofrohan”, “wormtongue”, “wormtonguesucks”, “merrychristmas”, “merrychristmasbitch”, “password”, “password123”, “[lastname]House”...
I’m beginning to think that my grandmother is better at naming networks than I had thought...

next day...
The password was the initials of the first stanza of that baseball poem (The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day...).

Anyway. I'm not dead. Here, have a tapir.

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