lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary
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What Might Have Been on Saturday Night
I may or may not have made a hat that looks like this: 
to play Monopoly in. Click that photo to find out who else may or may not have worn that hat, if indeed it was made.
12:59 AM - 31 July 2005
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Poop!
Here's the thing. I'm not as sophisticated as you guys might think. In fact, I have quite a stash of poop humor, as evidenced here and here.
10:20 PM - 28 July 2005
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My New Favorite Website
The one and only reason I was caught listening to Russian Folk Radio at work.
11:05 PM - 27 July 2005
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Grounded.
The shuttle program was grounded. I understand, I do, but the whole thing is depressing, mostly the reason they have to ground it. People are floating out in space, dude.
9:57 PM - 27 July 2005
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Come Fly With Me
The space shuttle Discovery launched today without any apparent problems (except this, which is worrisome). Ever since Man has walked, we have wanted to fly. And why not? A bird, coasting on a stream of air, is the very epitome of freedom. In our quest to explore our world, flying seemed like the answer. If we could find the right balance of trajectory and weight and velocity and all manner of physics things I don't understand, we could get up there. We could. There had to be a way.
And, as it turned out, there was. In 1903, the Wright brothers conquered the vapor, triumphed over the invisible forces that tethered us to the earth. Some 100 years later, air travel is as common as piling the family into the Chevrolet for a road trip, and quite a bit safer. Of course, there is that nagging thought that if you are in an airplane crash, your chances of survival are slim, but the odds are so low of that happening, most of us take the chance.
Sure, the blue of the sky is great and all, but what's past that? What's out there in that black void, punctuated with pinpoints of hard, cold light? The possibilities are mind-boggling. Think of the smallest grain of sand, then extrapolate until you get to the brightest star in the night sky. You may get a sense of vertigo, the sense that you can feel the Earth turning in the night, and that there's a possibility that you may be thrown off, an unfortunate insect from a tiny backwoods planet, into that great unknown.
This wonder is what originally fueled space travel. What could be out there? No one knew, because no one had been. We could guess: Hydrogen, oxygen, carbon... any number of familiar elements, formed and reformed into the exotic, colorful planets of our own solar system. But beyond that? What else was there in our own galaxy? Even farther than that? Where did it begin? Where did it end? We have educated guesses for most of these answers, but any good teacher will tell you that there is no substitute for hands-on learning. We had to get going.
So, we did. First into orbit, then to the Moon, then farther. Manned and unmanned spacecraft, probing farther and farther into the cold reaches of space. The manned ones are scary, and always will be. Space travel is no air travel. It is not safe, under any circumstances, and when you factor in human error, we are dealing with a hit-or-miss operation. But we keep on trying to answer the biggest questions we have: Who are we? Why are we here? How did we get here? And perhaps the most important: Where do we go next?
Because that's the crux of space travel, at least now. We will run out of resources. We will need somewhere else to go, or at least another planet to rape the resources from. So, yeah. The president is a nutcase. He has the worst politics in the history of politics, and the best spin doctors since, well, the Spin Doctors, but if he wants to throw money at NASA, hell, I'm game.
And you should be, too. Because if you're not, and in 50 years I see you on the moving sidewalk, and I can't recognize you because my goggles are fogged up from the gas mask that I have to wear because, while my body hasn't aged in 40 years, the air is poison to breathe, my technologically-preserved self will kick your ass. And then I'll take off in my jetpack.
10:44 PM - 26 July 2005
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It's The Little Things
I hate hate HATE when people say "standard time" when they mean "daylight." It's rare for people to use "EST" or "CST" unless they're being goofy, and hey, I'm all for goofy. But be accurately goofy. If you observe daylight savings time, then wherever you are right now, it's daylight. It's "EDT," or "CDT," or "PDT." Check yourself.
12:26 PM - 26 July 2005
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And I'll Be The Queen!
Nothin' in common, but there's trust.
I'm like a minus, she's like a plus.
One goin' up, one comin' down
But we seem to land on common ground.
Things go wrong, we make corrections
To keep things movin' in the right di-rection.
Try to fight it, but I'm tellin' ya, Jack,
It's useless! Opposites attract!
Hm. Who could that quote be attributed to? What's that you say? MC Skat Kat? Yeah, okay. But more importantly (and embarrassingly), me. Yesterday, on the hottest fucking day of the year, going to pick Deadsoon up for lunch. Not only did I rap it, but I rapped it during the part in the song where it belongs, even though the radio edit doesn't contain it. That's right. I rapped eight lines from a song that's fifteen years old, a song that wasn't cool even when it was cool, and I rapped them from memory.
I accept my Queen of Dork crown on behalf of all the dorks out there reading this, nodding.
7:43 PM - 25 July 2005
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Hot Child in the City
The sun is angry at me. I don't know what I did, but it must have been yooge for the sun to want to burn the flesh right off my bones.
Also along those lines: I know it's hot. I do. But not wearing a bra on those 44DDs isn't making it any less hot.
1:35 PM - 25 July 2005
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Picture Book
I'm working on a DVD for a woman (for those of you [ahem, Lisa] who are under the impression that I am a porn director, I assure you, it's nothing so exciting), and it's so strange.
This is the first time I've ever put a photo DVD together for someone I don't know. It's like being handed a book called Story of My Life, open to page 1. Even when she's smiling, the woman this DVD is about never really looks happy. I don't think I'd want to be one of her kids.
For some reason, these people felt the need to take large, uninformative pictures of big groups of people, none of which are labeled. They obviously don't know anything about photography (as if I, with my dinky Olympus, do), and if the woman who hired me to do this had put in the time (as I asked her to do) and sorted the wheat from the chaff, I wouldn't be wondering why all their pictures are either blurry or ill-composed. I got a suitcase full of photo albums (no, really), and it appears that they gave this woman full photo albums for every birthday and holiday.
Now. A photo album, or a cute photo of the giver and me in a cute frame, is a perfectly acceptable gift. Much preferred to and more personal than bath soaps. But if I received my fifth full photo album in a row from my (grown, no less) kids, we'd be sitting down for a talk. Maybe that's why this woman never looks happy.
12:10 AM - 24 July 2005
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You Have All Let Me Down
WHY HAS NO ONE EVER REALLY SAT ME DOWN AND TOLD ME HOW CHEAP AND SWEET IKEA IS? WHY IS THERE NO IKEA STORE IN ST. LOUIS? WHY WHY WHY?
12:08 AM - 24 July 2005
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Drah-Ma!
Oh, God.
I think Tongkba is on to me.
I worked 11 hours today, a good 4 of those on his project. And oh, GOD, I loved every grammatically correct second of it.
Even when he came downstairs and began the awkward, shuffling speech about how he really appreciated all the work I did, and he loves that I don't complain, and I'm, like, the only person there who doesn't, and he's really really really sorry, but... the project wasn't going out today, I just smiled. I gave him some good-natured crap, but my heart sang because that means on Monday, I get to work on it some more!
Hurrah!
However, Monday contains an unknown variable. A wild card. A temp.
I know I was once a temp, but my body vibrates with anticipation of a possible threat.
Sure, I stayed until 8 tonight, but what if she's willing to stay till midnight? I come into work with my hair wet every day; I bet she's neatly coiffed (I'd almost guarantee it -- when you're a temp, you believe your very survival rests on a well-constructed ponytail). I don't complain, but what if I have to keep working on the same project that I stayed till 8 on, and as a consequence, she gets Tongkba's project oh God I can't even fathom it!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Multiple exclamation points. This is what I've been reduced to.
I bet she only uses one exclamation point.
Or none.
Oh God, what if she's level-headed? I CANNOT COMPETE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
9:00 PM - 22 July 2005
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