I thought they were supposed to be buried in a VW Beetle…
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Now the water heater has sprung a leak. Thing is buggy as it is, but now there’s MORE water pooling in the garage. What a nightmare…
New water heater arrives tomorrow. 50 gallons of fun.
Let my Cameron goooooooooooooooooooooo.
$2.3 million and worth every penny. Is that really a Ferrari in the garage? Hard to tell from the pic…
Probably wasn’t the best movie to watch right before bed.
Part of me just died inside.
They should give the guy an extra million for doing this so wisely.
But seriously… this is not the type of guy that normally plays the lottery, is it?
Left the garage door open for the umpteenth time last night (ironically for exactly the same reason — the stairs are being repaired and I am going in the house a different way). Thankfully nothing was stolen.
Investing now in my third automatic garage door closer — the previous ones stopped working after a while and actually started automatically opening the garage door in the middle of the night. This one uses a tilt-sensing mechanism to determine if the door is open or not, so I have higher hopes for it working more effectively.
Plus the car/garage animation is awesome.
Good news, folks… new hard copies of Half Mast and Five Stars! should be coming soon…
Meanwhile, check out these new ebook options at Scribd:
Seriously? 12 million copies of this album were sold? Not that Matchbox 20 is bad or anything, but… 12 million? Why?
That’s more than Abbey Road… and every other original Beatles album except The White Album, for that matter.
I love this story — both that the woman in question had the guts to let her kid do something on his own, but also the indignation with which the public responded to it. Seriously, she’s his mom, so she gets to decide when the kid is old enough to ride the bus alone.
At the same time, we wrestle in our house with the same topic: Our daughter is six. How old should she be before she walks to the corner store (crossing only one major street to get there) on her own? How long until she rides the subway or bus alone? I grew up in the suburbs and can’t remember when I wasn’t playing unsupervised around the neighborhood, but city life spooks me into conservatism even though I know, statistically, the kid is probably more likely to get hurt playing at home than outside. (As she did 2 weeks ago…)
See, when you clean up after yourself, great things happen.
Child: Can you get your license plate to say whatever you want?
Me: Yes, as long as it fits into 7 characters and it’s not rude.
Child: What, like “FART YOUR BUTT OFF?”
My favorite thought-piece about Ferris Bueller is the “Fight Club” theory, in which Ferris Bueller, the person, is just a figment of Cameron’s imagination, like Tyler Durden, and Sloane is the girl Cameron secretly loves.
One day while he’s lying sick in bed, Cameron lets “Ferris” steal his father’s car and take the day off, and as Cameron wanders around the city, all of his interactions with Ferris and Sloane, and all the impossible hijinks, are all just played out in his head. This is part of the reason why the “three” characters can see so much of Chicago in less than one day — Cameron is alone, just imagining it all.
It isn’t until he destroys the front of the car in a fugue state does he finally get a grip and decide to confront his father, after which he imagines a final, impossible escape for Ferris and a storybook happy ending for Sloane (“He’s gonna marry me!”), the girl that Cameron knows he can never have.
Apparently when you hang up on a “grassroots organizer” with a blocked caller ID number because you’re exhausted, trying to deal with your insane children during the dinner hour, and just don’t have the time or energy for a long conversation about whatever problems our city has, that makes you a “jackass.”
That’s what I’m told anyway.
Had this odd email problem and want to post about it here for posterity and hopefully to help other people if they experience it themselves.
Here’s the gist:
A few weeks ago I ran into a problem where, when I replied to two or more messages within a few seconds of each other to two or more different recipients, something strange would happen. Namely, one or more of those recipients would get the email intended for the other recipients, complete with the entire message history. Everything looks fine in the email — it’s just gone to the WRONG person.
I’ve searched online for solutions and have taken steps to fix ranging from reinstalling Microsoft Office (this is Outlook 2003) to reformatting my hard drive and reinstalling Windows XP and all my apps from scratch. But the problem started up again today.
My next hunch is that the problem is caused by Symantec Norton Internet Security’s email scanning, which obviously intercepts and processes mail during the sending process. I have that feature turned off in the hopes that it will remedy the issue.
Anyone experience anything similar? Drop a line or a comment!
Update 1: Nope, turning off Norton email scanning didn’t do it. Now wondering if I should dump Norton altogether… also considering simply buying a new computer; this one has plenty of additional problems far beyond this annoying issue…
Update 2: The problem continues, so it’s either Outlook, this PC, or Yahoo! Mail. I’m actually getting a new PC in 2 weeks and am going to upgrade to the latest Outlook on it. Meanwhile have changed Outlook to “send/receive immediately when connected” so there’s no chance for emails to linger together in the outbox. Still, so aggravating (and embarassing).
Update 3: Yahoo! thinks the problem is likely Outlook, in which case the new PC/Outlook 2007 fix ought to make it all better. Haven’t seen the problem recur since turning on immediate email sending, as expected, so that temporary fix is hopefully working for the short term.
Because that’s what you really need at the salad bar.
Let’s say you’re eating a quesadilla in the kitchen. Why then would you decide to get up and run through the house — mouth full of food — only to trip and fall in the hallway, split your head open on the corner of a baseboard, and have to be taken to the ER for 9 stitches, screaming all the way? I guess if you’re 6 years old, that’s a normal Saturday.