Why do we use

terms of endearment

with harsh words?

"Yes, Dear..."

Guess who was picked

to say grace last night.

Christmas with the neighbors

is awesome.

Merry Christmas, yo.

I love you guys.

Talked to everybody on the phone.

*smile, sniff*

Lost my voice.

"As Development Lead, I...

led the development."

I am so not good

at writing self-assessments.

Pictures from the

Trail of Lights.

Why I love the Drafthouse

(Number 87 in a series):

When I ordered a cup of tea,

they brought me honey.

The hobbits make me cry

every time.

Hobbits in 5.5 hours!

Hobbits in 5.5 hours!

Woo!!

No woman can call herself

free until she can choose

consciously whether she will

or will not be a mother.

-- Margaret H. Sanger

Variations on a theme:

"Dialog"

is not a verb.

You don't mind being a

bookmark

for me, do you?

Developers

make me hot.

Got a new project in the works...

Nouns

have gender.

The hobbits make me cry

every time.

You know what?

It's been a while.

Dude.

That's the best I've made out

at a White Elephant ever:

Ray Bradbury anthology.

Woo!

Now that's friendship.

You strain your back

and can barely bend over.

You certainly can't

put on your shoes and socks.

So your friend does so for you.

Thanks, Toshi. *sniff*

Okay,

forget the manual.

Just read my freakin' email.

And now the sun is shining.

I don't get this climate.

And then it grows darker...

Alien landscape:

Thick, obscuring fog

and lightening!

Terms of endearment

from my sweetie:

"Thanks for not liking

stupid, useless junk."

Awwwww.

I can't imagine

this blog is particularly engaging,

but it sure is cathartic.

Thank you.

Say

please,

fucker.

something to read

when I'm bored.

Or boring.

It never ends.

"FYI"

is not a verb.

Guilty confessions:

"If I complete a task

that's not on my list,

I'll add it,

and then check it off."

"Me, too!"

Lest you think I am all

gloom and doom,

I've gotten a ton of stuff done

this morning, and I'm feelin'

pretty fly.

Diplomacy:

noun — successfully resisting

the urge to start an email,

"Your piece-of-shit application..."

Ah, the paragon of

interpersonal relations, that's me.

Some days, it's hard not to rampage.

Email from senior manager:

"You only show 35.5 hours

for week ending 12/1...

Please complete and let me know."

Salaried-exempt, my ass.

I wrote a song!

I'll see if I can make

an mp3 for you.

My fingers

have to heal first.

Passed in the hall:

Christmas tree

with CDs poked onto the branches.

Tee hee,

geeks.

Praying's fine,

but you've also gotta do.

Make peace,

locally, globally,

now and always.

Watched X-Men again last night,

just because Hugh Jackman

makes my toes curl.

*mrowr*

Not that I'm bitter.

I wonder what it sounds like

to the other people on your call

when I club your

speaker-phone-using ass

with the device in question.

Winter's hard for everybody,

innit.

In light of recent events,

I'm thinking all we need

to vault ahead

is a little advertising.

"Paganism:

Our sex is consensual."

Hi.

Happy,

contented,

too full.