Thursday, September 18, 2003
Doin’ the Unbusy/Busy-Again Dance
Work is careening madly from frantically busy to very slow to busy again to not-really-that-busy-but-your-timesheet-better-reflect-a-certain-level of busy-ness. All of this has me thinking. And reflecting.
All this attention to professional obligations has really cramped my blogging. I haven’t been able to stop by all of my favorite sites and/or leave comments as much as I’d like. However, I did see Estella in comments somewhere and decided to stop by her place. The sea monster drawings alone warrant a place on my blogroll . . . in place of Mr. Whitey, who has disappeared. (sniff, sniff) Yeah, I'm still a gaybo.
In other blogroll-related news, I'm adding hover text to some of you tools. I'm hoping to make it around to everyone . . . eventually.
Also cramping my blogging is my lunchtime addiction to playing chess (yes, still badly). I’m 9-17-1. I won today in a timed game, even after pissing away several of my power pieces in really stupid, stupid moves.
Hurricane Isabel/Isadore/whomever is currently tearing into the mid-Atlantic coast. My last communication with Styro was a while ago, when she signed off to bake cookies in her gas stove. The storm is gonna zoom right past her in Richmond, so let’s all cross our fingers that it doesn’t get much worse than a couple/few hours of intense excitement. Hopefully she’ll be able to sleep later . . . as long as there are no large trees near her house.
Oh, I’m now a cooking loser.
Sheryl Crow’s cover of “The First Cut is the Deepest” has me thinking. That she sucks. Sheryl has lost every (any) ounce of cool she ever had with me. I’ll still listen to the one CD of hers I own but, dude, couple this with her duet with Kid Rock, and that “first cut” should be part of her death of a thousand cuts. Or something.
It’s been quiet on the mix-CD front, eh? Well, I was working on my three-CD 90s retrospective (that’s 56 songs, kids). Two people asked for a CD, and I’m giving one of them to the Queen . . . just ‘cuz.
Next up is the fantabulous birthday mix that has been foretold. I’m gonna do 10 for my Top 10 blog-friends . . . at least eight of whom will be, like, “What the fuck is this shit?” After that, I’m following through with my promised personalized mix for everyone’s favorite shark-lovin’, geometry-fearin’, monkey-Scrabble-playin’, eye-patch wearin’, cookie-mailin’ 20-year-old . . . Amy Choppa.