Just to prove that I'm not the completely the over-the-top outrage fairy that may have been suggested by recent outings, such as the wisdom-teeth-into-earrings question:

There comes a point - not often, but it comes - when you're working up a really vituperative and possibly insulting line of email rhetoric, only to glance up to the "to" box and read "@police.vic.gov.au" and you go, "...hrm."

I should probably take the swearwords out, at least.

I'm sure it's terribly, wonderfully, spifftastically awesome for everyone else, but that whole "application bar that doubles as the task bar" at the bottom of the Mac screen? BANE OF MY LIFE. Because I'm never the most accurate of clickers, and my fingers get cold in the office, and this all adds up to me trying to use the bar icon to bring up my Quark document (one big, intensive program) and missing and hitting the InDesign button (another big, intensive program) which then bounces up and down happily and brings my entire life to a screeching halt while it loads the program.

I suppose I could move it. What should I replace it with, do you think - a big, intensive graphics-crunching program; the other big, intensive graphics-crunching program; or the web-browser?

I would just file this in the "I hate Macs" file, but that file is sadly FULL. It's possible there's even a waiting list.

It occurs to me that I have this fondness for Justin Long, but still if I met him, the first words out of my mouth (after "What's Bruce Willis like?") would probably be, "Say 'I'm a Mac' so I can smack you in the head with something heavy. Please?"

Me: I had this WEIRD involved dream last night where I was adopted by a really smart kitten.
Me: Like, so smart it could talk, and had read Orson Scott Card.
Kei: smart, but tasteless, got it.
Me: And we had to take it to the vet, and it didn't want to go because it was worried the vet would think it was suicidal. And there was a cyclone going on. And the vet was in a, like, beachshack cocktail bar.
Emily: Orsen Scott Card lives in my town, or something. I think
Me: If you ever run into him, let him know 100% of the talking kittens in my subconscious like his work.

"If they were cutting off their hands and putting hooks in their place, then I'd understand."
(My father's idea of manly body modification.)

*

I was gently reminded, while knocking around the dubious place of my birth, that my blogging habits had, as we say in the trade, died in the arse. I had a bit of a whine in response about how my life was boring these days, and most of the clever/witty/thought-provoking things that occurred were authored by Anthony, and since I egotistically have my website set as our browser homepage, every time he opened Firefox he'd see me reporting all his lunacy to the world. (Hi Anthony!)

Yeah, I dunno, we'll see.