December 28, 2000

little blurps

Blurp (noun) - A short, unconnected thought or story, taken from the juxtaposition of the words "burp" (as in "mental burp"), and "blurb" (taken in the journalistic sense of copy.) Origins: Yuhri's sad little brain.

Once upon a time there was a young woman who had a tendency to drop in and out of life, sort of the way fairy godmothers make occasional, cameo appearances in overly-blessed young ladies' lives to make a big cockup out of karmic justice. This young woman happened to have email and work in a very big, very important computer company that had really perverse stock.

One day, this young woman opened her email, courtesy of a mediocre ISP located somewhere in Phoenix, AZ, and discovered within an email from a web ring mistress.

"How odd," our heroine thought. "I don't remember---"

The email announced to our heroine that she hadn't updated her journal in over a month, and if she meant to continue being on the web ring, she'd better get her ass in gear.

To which our heroine said, "What web ring?" And, "Over a month?" And then, finally, "Shi---"

...and so here we are.

The Chicken Family is no more. We'll miss them, I know. They were the light of our lives, and the entertainment in our Corn Flakes. However, to every sitcom an end must come, and while they might some day be syndicated in another form or on another station, for the time being they are gone into the misty distance. They will not be bothering me any more.

On December 1, more or less, I moved into a new apartment. I have a really spiffy new roommate, one that I'll come up with a nickname for, eventually. It's a nice apartment. It's got a good carpet, it's got blinds, a living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a tiny little kitchen, and a doorbell. It even has heat. Of the amenities, it was the heat and the doorbell that impressed me the most; the things that one takes for granted during the normal course of life tend to become objects of desire when one moves into a tenement.

Chief among the amenities is the fact that the Chicken Family is not there. It was a sad leavetaking, though. I could tell that they were upset at the thought of losing me. They demonstrated this by not slaughtering any chickens for at least a week.

Shortly before my last day in the old apartment, I went to fulfill a long-standing dream of mine. I bought Chicken Run on VHS and gave it to the Chicken Family. It was sort of awkward, because I wasn't really sure where in the neighboring apartment building they lived, much less how to get into the building itself. I determined that the best way to give them the tape was to hurl it across the alleyway from my kitchen window into theirs. Naturally, it would be an expensive error if I missed their window and the tape ended up plummeting down two stories to smash on the concrete below. As preparation, I spend several minutes balling up pieces of paper and lobbing them at the Chicken Family window. (They weren't home.) The majority of them missed; a few sailed through with inches to spare, and disappeared on what I presume was their kitchen floor. At some point I determined that this was a pointless exercise, and threw caution to the winds. Practice wasn't making any perfection, and the tossing of napkins was hardly comparable to tossing a video. I took a breath, aimed for the glass, and let loose.

It was a good throw. The tape got stuck in the grating. I imagined the Chicken Family coming home and discovering this bizarre change in their home. "Look," I thought Mama Chicken would say to Papa Chicken, finding little bits of paper balled up on their kitchen floor. "The ceiling has been crapping on the floor again."

"There's a thing in the window," one of the Baby Chickens would say. They would all trot over to investigate.

"How very strange." The Parent Chickens would wag their heads over the mysterious package, and pry it out of the window grating.

"Go into your rooms, children," Mama Chicken would say to the Baby Chickens. "It could be a bomb."

"Awwwwww....."

They probably think their mad Chinese household gods spent the morning hurling video tapes at them. They wouldn't be too far wrong.

I drove up to Seattle for Christmas with my sister.

On the way, we passed through a town called "Weed", in Oregon.

The picture comes from that. Australians sent it to me. They think it's funny. Well. Let's be honest. I think it's funny too.

At some point, I'm going to be changing my email account from the one on primenet to the one at home, which is literally, @home. I haven't come up with a thingy yet -- what's the word? Login. -- but once I do and get my webspace set up there, I'll probably be transferring everything over. Just so you all know.

Turtles. I really like turtles. I ate a salad for lunch and now I'm hungry again. This isn't a good sign. I'm determined to lose weight before Tara's wedding, but dammit, how'm I supposed to do that if I'm always hungry? Sucks. West Wing is on tonight, though.

...rerun.

I've solved my rubicks cube. Damn, I'm smart. One of these days I'll manage to solve the one that Flamingo gave me, too.