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Archive for February, 2007

The leader of the band


It’s my Pop’s birthday today. Here’s why my Pop is the coolest:

when I was about 23, I got my first apartment by myself and was going through a serious what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life crisis. Not handling it well I might add. So my Dad took my car to his company shop to do some minor repair and when I got it back I was tooling around town one day and dropped the sun visor and down came a folded letter. It was a handwritten note, complete with my Dad’s own self-edits, reminding me that sometimes life deceives you into despair so that, if you’re strong enough, you have the opportunity to really think about what’s important and potentially grow and weather the storm.

We never talked about it. It remains in my photo album to this day and sometimes I take it out and read it to remind myself, not only of the truth in the letter, but that someone loved me enough to notice and offer a little wisdom and, by extension, comfort.

Happy birthday Poppa. I’m so proud to be your daughter.

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Big Fat Tuesday

Happy Mardi Gras!

Couldn’t find my favorite version of this song — the one by the Be Good Tanyas — so this will have to do…

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Intelligent design


A friend at work sent this out on our listserv. It is uber geeky but pretty interesting. It is apparently a failsafe way of approximating Pi by throwing frozen hot dogs. Just read it. Or try it.

This one goes out to Sara K. See ya this weekend chick!

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Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m having a weird one so far — I’ll live.

Here’s a history of the holiday courtesy of the history channel. And, as coincidence would have it, my music nod to Lou fits in perfectly with today’s theme. While she was a rocker on the surface, Lou hid a deeply sensitive side. And I will always love Air Supply’s cheesy glory for being the musical reminder of my sister’s lovely heart. Here’s to you kid. I love ya…

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Revolve in Peace

I know this guy named John whom I’ve always liked. The other day he was wearing this shirt:

He told me he got it from a site called Think Geek. The name of the shirt is “Pluto Responds.”

I was right to like John.

Here’s today’s musical selection going out to Noj. No New Tale To Tell by Love & Rockets It’s slightly backward as I introduced this song to him but he liked it so much he immediately learned to play it on the guitar. So, you could say we bonded over Love & Rockets. Which I’m sure a lot of people do…

And, just because I just got this CD and can’t stop listening to this song, here’s some My Chemical Romance. Good stuff people, I’m telling ya.

And yes, it’s 6 a.m. I’ve been up since 4:30. Homework and things do not allow me to sleep. And I’m a freak.

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Well hey now, it’s been a while. How crazy is it that someone who clearly knows how to respond and remain productive under pressure can succumb to something as stupid as pulling a “Jerry Springer” by driving from Houston to Orlando to confront her rival for the affections of — get this — a married man (married to someone altogether out of the equation).[ed. note: there’s been some debate at work about whether or not the dude SomethingAwful.com is calling Zero-G Hustla is actually married. I’m too lazy to research it. Just know he could be single. But he’s still probably an asshole.] This woman was an astronaut for pete’s sake. According to HowStuffWorks.com, these are the qualifications astronauts must meet:

  • U.S. citizenship (for pilots and mission specialists)
  • Bachelor’s degree (engineering, biological sciences, physical sciences, mathematics) from an accredited college or university
  • Three years of related experience after obtaining the bachelor’s degree – A master’s degree equals one year of experience, and a doctorate equals three years.
  • Passing a NASA space physical examination – Pilots need to pass a Class I physical; mission/payload specialists must pass Class II. Both are similar to civilian and military flight examinations.
  • More than 1,000 hours experience as pilot-in-command of a jet aircraft (pilots only)
  • Height of 64 to 76 inches (162.5 cm to 193 cm) for pilots, 58.5 to 76 inches (148.5 cm to 193 cm) for mission/payload specialists

And yet this chick is carrying around rubber tubing, plastic garbage bags and spraying pepper spray into car windows. I’m not even going to mention the asshole — also an astronaut — who is the man involved in all this. So what up NASA?

Here’s my music shout out for today. It’s for my brother Drew. It will forever make me think of you and will forever make mom cry. You didn’t know that did ya?

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