I have almost, just almost, gotten used to the fact that Tetris tends to be able to figure out what I’m thinking when I’m quiet. As we all know, quietness from my side of the table is rare. I am, in short, quite the chatterbox.

Hey, I have a lot to say!

I’ve also just about gotten used to the fact that he can also finish sentences for me, and tends to be able to understand the half human gibberish that comes out when I’m excited about something. It still makes me smile though, not a lot of people get what I’m saying.

Which is not to say he understands me perfectly, because that would be impossible. There are still communication miscues, especially when a lot of my personal inside jokes are movie quotes from movies that he’s never seen. Which, of course, explains why I find them to be the height of hilarity and he finds them to be confusing at best.

It’s all part and parcel of living together, I suppose.

What I have not gotten used to, and probably never will, is well, hell, I’m not sure how to describe this, so I’ll just tell you what happened.

The other night I was having a very vivid, very violent dream. I’m not going into details, it disturbed me greatly and I woke up in tears. In my dream, right before waking up, I turned to the woman that I had just cut down from a tree and asked, “Are people so bad because the world is messed up, or is the world messed up because people are so bad?”

It was a chicken/egg sort of question that chases its own tail and cannot be answered definitively. But when I woke, I went over and over it in my head, asking the question, trying to find the answer.

After a few minutes of navel contemplation and calming myself down, I decided to just forget it and just rejoin the world of the dreaming. I rolled over to began running through happy fields of flowers in my mind in an attempt to go back to sleep.

Just as I was beginning to enter that magical world between wakefulness and sleeping, Tetris started twitching and kicking violently at the sheets. He appeared to be having a bad dream of his own, so I rolled over to try and calm him. As I wrapped myself around him, he stopped twitching, but started talking (he doesn’t talk much when awake, but chatters his fool head off when he’s sleeping).

I tend to not put a lot of stock in what people say when they are sleeping. Our dreams are a mangled mess of images and sensory overload that mean little to anyone but ourselves. But when he very clearly said, “People are just bad,” I very nearly jumped out of my skin.

Hey, you! Out of my head!

Yours truly, being of unsound mind most of the time, completely forgot that today was the day of her wellness screening at the office. Okay, so no big deal, right?

*blah*

I was supposed to begin fasting at 10:00 last night and have nothing but water until after the screening. Whoopsie. Guinness last night, a cup of coffee this morning. No food, but yeah, that Guinness.

So now I’m sitting here, contemplating whether I should just say screw it and go get another cup of coffee before I bleed out of my eyeballs or if I should hold out until 10:00 when it’s time for my screening.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I weren’t living on about three hours of sleep *wah*

So I’m sitting here pulling my hair out, staring at the clock, wondering if it’s time to go yet.

Alas, and woe is me, not yet.

*drama*

PS:  Unrelated - Get educated on the articles of impeachment introduced by Kucinich here and here.  Hey, it made me giggle

Pls 2 be pouring?

While doing some morning blog perusing, I found this nifty little gadget that will attempt to tell you the gender of an author by examining the words in a post.  According to the site, Gender Genie is “Inspired by an article and a test in The New York Times Magazine, the Gender Genie uses a simplified version of an algorithm developed by Moshe Koppel, Bar-Ilan University in Israel, and Shlomo Argamon, Illinois Institute of Technology, to predict the gender of an author.  Read more at BookBlog, The New York Times, and The Guardian.”

Isn’t that lovely?  Too bad the damn thing thinks I’m a man.

*hmph!*

From CNN.com:

NASHVILLE, Tennessee (AP) — Former Vice President Al Gore’s upscale neighborhood granted the environmental activist approval Tuesday to install 33 solar panels on the roof of his mansion.

The city of Belle Meade, Tennessee, had blocked his application until new rules were approved unanimously late Tuesday, said Gore spokesman Chris Song. The city, located within metropolitan Nashville, said the panels must be placed in areas where they can’t be seen by neighbors.

Gore, who starred in the documentary film “An Inconvenient Truth” about global warming, already buys enough energy from renewable energy sources such as solar, wind and methane gas to balance 100 percent of his electricity costs.

He is also upgrading the furnace, windows, and light switches, as well as installing new floor radiant heat and solar vents, to improve the home’s energy standards, said Kalee Kreider, a Gore spokeswoman.

The home, bought by Gore in 2002, is more than 70 years old and illustrates the challenges of renovating an older home to conserve more energy, Kreider said.

“It’s obviously easier to build a green home from the get-go,” she said. “When you purchase an older home, these retrofits take a lot longer.”

You know that kid, the weird one, in the back?  The one with the slightly odd social skills?  What about that emo kid?  The one who is always depressed?  What about that super sensitive “nice guy”?  What about the poor girl who wears her older sister’s hand me downs?  What about that spoiled kid whose parents give him everything but never pay any attention to him?

Do you know any of these kids?  Yeah, I thought you might.

Do you laugh at them?  Make fun of them?  Call them names like “loser” or “fag”?  Provoke them into saying or doing stupid things?  But hey, it’s all in good fun, right?  I mean, after all, that kid is an asshole, a loser, a nobody.  Right?

Wrong.

That’s someone’s son or daughter, someone’s brother or sister, maybe someone in pain, maybe someone who may need help, maybe someone who may very well be on the ragged edge of sanity.  But hey, you have your fun.

It’s entirely possible that you, yes, you, are helping to create the next Eric Harris, the next Dylan Klebold.

And after they’ve gone crazy, and you’ve gotten your chance to try and be the hero you are so longing to be, well, won’t that just be swell?

I’m sure your parents will be proud.

Regular readers please note:  This isn’t about VT, it’s more about some stuff I see going on -right- now in our very own Potomac Falls High and carrying through to MySpace.

The WBC (look it up kids, I’m not linking to that asshat Ph*lps and his crew) are planning to picket the funerals of the students who died at VT yesterday.

From their site:
WBC will preach at the funerals of the Virginia Tech students killed on campus during a shooting rampage April 16, 2007. You describe this as monumental horror, but you know nothing of horror — yet. Your bloody tyrant Bush says he is ‘horrified’ by it all. You know nothing of horror — yet. Your true horror is coming.  “They shall also gird themselves with sackloth, and horror shall cover them; and shame shall be upon all faces, and baldness upon all their heads” (Eze. 7:18).

Why did this happen, you ask? It’s simple. Your military chose to shoot at the servants of God today, and all they got for their effort was terror. Then, the LORD your God sent a crazed madman to shoot at your children. Was God asleep while this took place? Was He on vacation? Of course not. He willed this to happen to punish you for assailing His servants.

Fucking nice.

My daughter will be 13 tomorrow.  So to celebrate, we are having a slumber party.

*sigh*

Yep, I’m currently holed up with a bunch of teenage girls squealing about who likes what boy, what boy is the cutest, and who has the best hair.

The worst part?

It was my suggestion.

Send coffee quick!  It’s going to be a long night!

Check it out:  WaPo had a Peeps Diorama Contest and have some of the entries online.

My favorite?  It’s a tie between “Peeping Peeps” and “Soylent Green Is Peeps!”

Dammit, someone bring me some peeps.  I want to bite their little heads off!