Hello?

Hello, is Matt there?

May I ask who is calling?

I'm from UCLA Anderson.

*silent jumping up and down*
He's in his car on his way to work. Would you like his cell phone number, or I can pass along a message?

I'd like to call his cell phone.

*dancing*
The number is 818 867 5309.
*more dancing*

Thank you. Good bye.

I had to wait TEN MINUTES for Matt to call me back. And then he did. Matt has officially been accepted to Anderson. Yippee!

You extra super plus never forget if you are as klutzy as me, but I digress.

After years of pestering, I finally convinced Matt to get a bike. This might not seem like much of an achievement, but you have to take into account the fact that Matt hadn't owned any human-powered transportation devices since he was a wee little Matt. A lack of available bikes also means a lack of knowing how to successfully ride a bike. As anyone who ever bought an adult-sized bike knows, trying out various bikes is absolutely necessary.

I tried to teach Matt on my bike, but that plan was quickly scrapped after the second near miss involving a parked car. Plan B involved buying Matt a helmet and letting him try out all sorts of bikes at bike stores. Yes, he did look like an incompetent fool, and yes, I nearly fell over laughing. But by the time he found the perfect bike, he was able to ride with some semblance of competence. More importantly, he didn't fall and damage any of the bikes!

And so his shiny new accoutrement came to be.


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Egads! He's going to crash!


Oh, whew! Matt lives!


And there he goes, down the alley of dispair!

Hmm, I think his seat needs to be raised a bit more.

Just last week Matt and I were commenting on how it had been quite some time since we took a sick mutt to the vet. Obviously we didn't have our brain stems connected that day, since tempting fate with regard to the vet is not just a bad idea, but an assurance that at least one dog would be deathly ill in the days to come. In this instance, it was Zero, sporting a brand new eye infection, complete with green gooey puss gunk practically dripping from his right eye.

After checking his cornea for scratches, Zero was duly coned and I was handed eye drops. Even though the cone prevents him from continually scratching at his eye, it doesn't prevent him from trying. What's worse is that it doesn't prevent him from trying at three in the morning until one of us gets up and scratches his head for him.

Unlike Tawny, Zero refuses to let his head wear get in the way of his life. Sadly, this means he dunks the thing straight into his water bowl and food bowl. And rams it into furniture that didn't previously block his way. And scraps it along walls. While these may seem like accidents caused by an unwieldy chunk of plastic enveloping his head, I know the truth. He's teaching us the lesson that it is NOT OKAY TO CONE HIM.

Every time they update the home page, they make it worse. But that's not my biggest problem. Now you need to confirm that existing accounts belong to real people. How do you do this? Give them your cell number so they can text a code that you need to enter. Obviously. FUCK NO. I am NOT giving facebook my cell number for any reason. Especially since I've had my account since 2004, when it was first opened to Columbia students. Of course, there's another option, but somehow I find it annoying to enter a two word capcha every time I do something.

Am I the only one annoyed with facebook? Or am I missing something here?

One "benefit" of being unemployed is getting to catch up on 10 year old reruns of Law & Order. Each episode comes with all sorts of suggestions, most of which center around hiring a social security lawyer or getting cash for my annuity or structured settlement, but there is a nice sprinkling of vitamin and supplement commercials. And while I may not have learned enough to pass the New York Bar exam, I have learned that I will have a horrible life and painful death if I don't start protecting my <random vital organ> by taking daily <random supplement that I didn't know existed>.

I'm never going to be able to tango if I don't start taking fish oil. There's no way I can possibly be regular/have good digestive health since I'm not taking fiber pills. The reason I'm so fat is because I don't have decadent and correctly proportioned meals delivered directly to my door. My high cholesterol is obviously due to my failure to eat 12 bowls of cheerios every day. In case all that wasn't bad enough, I'm lethargic and depressed because of my failure to take SAM-e. And here I thought that all my problems were caused by my brain being softened by Hulu. Silly me.

You hear that Priusites? ONE HUNDRED NINETY-SIX! Really!

How can this be true you ponder aloud? Well I obviously won't be answering since I don't have superhuman hearing. But I'm such a nice person, so I'll pretend I heard this time.

Among other quasi-useful features, my car has a real-time mpg display. Hit the gas, mpg plummets. Coast downhill, mpg climbs. Cruise down the giant hill on the 405 north going into the valley at upwards of 80mph, mpg skyrockets to a peak of 196. Soon after mpg hit -12 due to an idiot who confused the center divider with another lane on the 101.

Seeing as how the title pretty much sums up what I'm about to do, ta da!

United States - Sites
Erie Canal
Grand Canyon
Mount Rushmore
Yellowstone Park

United States - Cities
Chicago
Denver
New Orleans
Tahoe

United States - States
Alaska
Arizona
Hawaii
Maine
Montana
New Mexico
Oregon
Vermont

Foreign Countries - Cities
Cancun, Mexico
Dubai, United Arab Emigrates
London, England
Moscow, Russia
Paris, France
Macau, China
Manila, Phillippines
Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Foreign Countries - Countries
Antarctica (yes, I'm aware that its not a country)
Australia
Brazil
Cayman Islands
China
Costa Rica
Czech Republic
Egypt
England
Fiji
France
Germany
Greece
Hong Kong, China
Iceland
Ireland
Israel
Italy
Germany
Madagascar
Monaco
New Zealand
Norway
Scotland
Singapore
South Africa
Spain
Sweden
Switzerland
Thailand
Turks and Caicos Islands
Wales