Oh, IRC. So kaberett realized that a literal sex-ed hat was in order, and wrote up the finished project some.

I decided shortly after hearing the plans, that I was going to need one as well. It is already clear that our visions are very different. So far I have the (lined) uterus, with one fallopian tube. My excellent mental 3D modeling program is showing me how it all fits together in a hilarious and vaguely wearable fashion.

I got the yarn the other day (there were ants that I discovered -- last Sunday?, and I reported them Monday and got my rent turned in, the bug guys came Tuesday and sprayed; while I was Out as I could not be near the fumes, I got yarn and groceries) for the project, and then Thursday I told my aunt all about it.

Naturally the plan got back to my father, which made for an entertaining phone call on Saturday.

Today I have incorporated shocking pink yarn from my stash, and then next would be the ovaries. This is really going to be entertaining.

I've been taking pictures, but most of them are still on my phone. A sample:

Don't be like this individual.


This individual sent a text to their partner: "OMG I'M DYING!"

They returned home to their partner, who had not received any such text, nor the subsequent texts.

Further details ensue, after the expected amount of back-and-forth debate and showing of phones.

Individual had received a rather rightly concerned text back inquiring were they all right.

Individual replied with the details, phrased in a fashion appropriate for sending a text to long-term committed partner: in the pink of health, but had just passed a very large crowd of nubile 18+ people of all genders including the appropriate one(s), dressed to the very scanty nines, and was accordingly in a state that a long-term committed partner might appreciate a heads-up on, that said partner might take the opportunity to prepare for a partner coming home in such a state.

No response. Meanwhile, noticing that the phone was lagging as it was full of thousands of texts, the individual takes the opportunity to CLEAR THE ENTIRE MESSAGE HISTORY.

Needless to say, the text? Was not sent to the partner. No immediate way to see to whom it had been sent, see above: cleared message history.

Partner is attempting to not break down in hysterical tears of laughter and be supportive. Individual is meanwhile freaking out at all the possible people it could have been. Partner helpfully asks about further people who could have been in the address book. (Loving. Dear. Supportive. Partner.)

There is a collective scramble for the service provider's site, which keeps track of outgoing texts. Service provider, upon the eventual login, helpfully shares that (entirely likely due to the HURRICANE) they are having a few days' lag time on some of the generally-unimportant shit like to whom one has sent an outgoing text message.

The top suspects to whom this text could have been sent are all people who had been texted after the partner. The consequences of any of them getting it would be ... awkward, especially as the phrasing did not necessarily indicate the relationship of the person receiving the text, just the individual's current status, and the implication that the recipient of the text could probably have a hand in relieving that status.

Some of the top suspects have been informed that there was a mis-aimed personal text sent out, so now the individual is getting a certain amount of razzing from them (and they didn't get it). So the recipient is still on the loose.


The moral of the story is: PLEASE DON'T TEXT WHILE DRIVING.


This story has been posted with the knowledge and consent of at least one of the parties directly involved in this situation.

Also, Bwahahaahah!

Bluetooth buzzer bracelet for cellphone alerts. Oh, wow! Perfect! lm959

I have put together my Bad Love mix, and will probably be putting it somewhere to be shared. I hope I've designed it to be played one of three ways -- all together, or with only the female artists, or only the male artists. I think it works both ways. (Well, maybe now it does; there was an incompatibility between the "I Will Survive" and the "You Oughtta Know" that had to be fixed. And there was no other choice for it -- it had to be "Suprême" and not "Supreme".)

Suggestions bunny: an accessibility-specific site scheme. In addition to the other things that LJ does to make the layout work, it would at least a) have larger icons and links, and no flyout navigation anywhere at all, b) be exempt from temporary decoration, and c) should involve heavy consulting with people who actually design accessible websites for a living (especially someone who's got a vested interest in it, you know, working).

suggestions bunny #2: community maintainers ought to be able to see and change explicit adult/adult content flags on any given entry under their control, if they're not already.

Most of my LJ day today was actually work -- I was helping hone and tagging suggestions.

I maintain some pretty good Google-fu -- I found the right thing when I didn't know how to describe it. Fortunately, I knew the general thing it was called, and started from there, and I magically managed to guess the right descriptor. I went from "How can I help you?" to "Success!" in 18 minutes, from the timestamps. Another one took me about 15 minutes, although I really didn't know what I was looking for there.

I can see airplane lights from my window at night. We're near enough a flight path that they're right at a reindeer-angle for me to watch streaming across the sky.

Tomorrow is the party.

I called Dawn. She's sick, poor thing. Darkside = no answer. I should pry for details on vacation, so I don't wind up doing the futile call thing.

All the tech support is blurring together in my head. My supervisor tells me that I'm honing my call times, even though call volume is low and we aren't getting as many calls put through; they're not back-to-back.

I haven't been getting enough sleep in general. I need to address that. I don't think, especially, that the seeing motion out of the corner of my eye a lot is an artifact caused by lack of sleep, because I'm seeing it when I'm wide awake.

I have too many tags. That's not just a value judgment, that's a statement of policy-driven fact. I tried counting them on Wednesday by the simple expedient of pasting them in a Notepad, setting the view length to 51 lines, and paging down a lot; I stopped when I hit 1,000. The current cap is at 1,000. The file was maybe somewhere between 1/2 and 1/3 scrolled down at that point -- I don't have anything like 20,000 so I'm not in danger of crashing LJ when I go in to edit them, but I will need to do some editing or I won't be able to add any more. My poor tags! *hangs onto*

I overuse the word "Woe" now. When I say it, it is "woe" and not "woah", nearly 100% of the time.

Ecchi-chan has her EEE. EEEEEE! I say. It is cute. Now I want one.

"you don't eat la cucharacha, you smoke it." says Cute geek super. I love work. Where's my nerf bat?

I realized last night that I'm probably living in the middle of a fantasy novel. This amuses me no end, of course. Life is weird enough as it is without extraneous happenings. Now that extraneous happenings have started, well, happening, I am bemused but delighted.

Last night, though, I did have a drug trip. Perfectly legal, I hasten to add. It's just that I have strong reactions to even small doses of certain antihistamines, and when I'm already tired, that makes things doubly strong.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was scrolling through a bizarre dreamlike environment where the background and all the objects were made up of pages upon pages of overlaid and constantly refreshing text from random snippets of things. It was as if the green scrolling columns of characters that symbolize the Matrix were replaced instead by translucent cut-outs from yellowing books, with a fresh layer lacquered on every quarter-second. I was reading everything everywhere in addition to the story that was being told. People were assigned new names, new attributes. Nothing quite fit right with reality, yet everything clicked into place.

Simply sitting up and opening my eyes in order to get a drink of water brought me back into reality, but a reality viewed through a shimmering, distorting, half-dream lens. It took five minutes to navigate the complexities of a simple middle-of-the-night restroom trip instead of only two or three.

Since the experience was assigning things that I knew to be false to things, such as assigning either Darkside or Figment with the name "George", I cannot trust any of my experiences there (not that I remember them) to be in any way related to c'thia, but they certainly were entertaining while they were going on.

I shan't ever be taking that drug before driving or operating heavy machinery, and if I'm going to take it in daylight hours, I'm either going to be in a place where I can sit down reliably, or I will be carrying a Stick of Not Falling Over with me (like I did last time I was on the stuff, when I was taking it for the ant bites and tripping out majorly to Dawn).

*puff puff* Squirrel nuts!

Somehow, by virtue of being my father's daughter, controversy erupts around me. No, it's not marijuana that I have, carried out in the open in a giant ziploc bag. It is spearmint and peppermint.

The administration has yet to take notice of my minty-fresh breath and so forth. It would probably be rather more obvious should I have quickly shoved it into my bag. Spearmint and peppermint have a distinctive fragrance, which should be rather obvious within a five-seat radius.

"Spearmint. Suuuuuuuuuuure," said the guy who'd asked me what my prices were.