Why don’t I just buy a big bag of these things? Beats the hell out of me. Here’s the $2.00 rundown:
6 Blue
8 Green
8 Orange
14 Yellow
16 Red
21 Brown
73 Total
Oh man, I don’t want to start up my calculator for this one… today’s batch is a whopping 21.91% cancerous. I think I’m going to go home now. Then again, I suppose it evens out yesterday’s total.
We’re back to being Coke-less today. Ugh.
Another day, another $2.00 of M&Ms…
5 Red
6 Orange
11 Green
13 Blue
17.25 Yellow (frickin’ machine)
20 Brown
72.25 Total
Today’s batch is only 6.92% cancerous! The only bad thing is, it kicked my calculator into that exponential mode, so I had to figure out what something times ten to the negative two was. Ugh. I’d rather have more cancer than be forced to think about math in the morning.
In other news, there are like, fifty Cokes in the refrigerator this morning! Well, probably just five or six, but considering the usual early morning paucity of Coke, five seems a whole lot like fifty. All of those beautiful red cans…. If you happened to be around when when I opened the refrigerator this morning, you would have heard me making much the same noises as the Cookie Monster when he’s chowing down.
$2.00 M&M Rundown for the day:
4 Orange
8 Green
11 Red
11 Blue
17 Brown
21 Yellow
72 Total
Today’s batch was only 15.27% cancerous. I’m on a health kick!
What can I say about today? At least it’s not Monday, right? I’ve been debating on a site overhaul and scribbling on anything I can get my hands on, so there hasn’t been much time or energy to post away here. Once this place looks different, you’ll probably see me back up to my verbose levels. Or not. We Geminis are quite mercurial that way.
Well, today is a post-food poisoning day of relaxation. Thanks to a friend-who-will-remain-nameless (don’t want my rabid blog fans going after her), I got it in my mind that Burger King would be a pretty good meal last night. How wrong I was.
It was just a mild case, fortunately – I spent the usual five minutes afraid that I was going to die, but only had ten minutes of hoping I would die. Last year I had a bout that was more lopsided – 5 minutes of thinking and an hour of hoping. Add to that the fact that I was at a bowling alley at the time and you can imagine the misery.
Luckily I was safe at home this time, recognized the symptoms and had time to prepare properly. Is it strange to be proud that you’re prepared for food poisoning?
It went away about as quick as it hit me, so I was able to crawl back into the living room and finish watching Hudson Hawk. Wait a minute. I forgot I was watching that movie. Maybe it wasn’t Burger King’s fault after all….
“Hey Helmut. Who’s that guy dragging himself into the bar?”
“Oh, that’s just Crazy Ernst.”
I know I do everything in my power to not use the word, but… I NEVER want to take BART again. Originally I was going to make that something about never sleeping through my alarm, but we all know that’s not going to happen.
So I wake up on my own about three hours after I normally do. D’OH! Near as I can figure, I woke up at my regular time just long enough to get out of bed, walk over to the alarm (placed far from the bed so I don’t do this), turn it off and go back to bed. Naturally, I recall none of this – only the certainty that I turned my alarm on last night.
So, since I can’t drive in and have to take BART, I took my time getting everything ready, knowing that I’ll just work really late today to make up for it. I get to BART slightly early, hop on the train and get that oh-so-desirable little standing nook in the front of the car. Everything’s going good ’til somewhere in the Oakland tunnels area. The train stops. The air stops. The lights go out. By the time I get my music turned off, the operator has already given her report and decided she’s not going to talk to us for the next 5 minutes we’re in the dark or the next ten that we’re paused in the light.
I go back to reading, tuning out my co-passengers as usual. Especially hard to do since there’s a guy who’s been in SF for 2 weeks (probably from Nebraska or something) and today is his third day on the job. He’s taking polls of the surrounding passengers. “How long do you think this will be? How long does it usually take? Will my boss believe this is BART’s fault (ever hear twenty people snort in derision at the same time?)?”
So I’m finally tuning him out until I hear someone say “…like rats in a cage.” Knowing full well what rats in a cage act like, I decide this isn’t a good thing and start tuning the world again.
“Here you sit down.” “I’m not going to sit down – you sit back down.” “Look, just take the seat.” “I don’t WANT the seat! Just sit down and shut up.” “FINE! No one will sit in the seat!”
This is the mature exchange between two men, one probably in his thirties (I’m horrible with ages) and the other, say, in his sixties or so. In fact, this is the exchange that occurs before the shoving match starts, the young guy throws a punch and the mass of bodies seethes and writhes in front of me as everyone decides to be a hero at the same time. One lady pushes past everyone to hit the “Call Operator for Assistance” button repeatedly, telling everyone around that “something must be done” because “people can’t just go around hitting one another.”
Hasn’t she ever seen Fight Club?
The operator ignores the button pushing, the guys are broken up and we eventually got underway. Surprisingly enough, the rest of the trip was rather uneventful.
The first rule of the BART system? You cannot talk about the BART system.
Okay, now I’m worried.
As my loyal readership (both of you) knows, I sit right outside the women’s bathroom here at work. Not out of any perverse longing to keep tabs on the womenfolk or anything, it’s just where I was placed.
They’ve been doing some kind of construction up on the roof today – quite annoying. They had finally taken a break and it was nice and quiet. Two women just went into the bathroom at the same time and after a very short period, the drilling on the roof recommenced, which sounds like it’s coming right from the bathroom.
It’s a very VERY loud buzzing sound.
Oh, the rumors I could start!
“Woman A? I don’t know where she is. I saw her and Woman B go into the bathroom with some strange contraption hooked up to a car battery. Why do you ask?”
At this time, both of them have left the bathroom and the noise is still going. Either it really is the drill on the roof or they left their little “friend” on the bathroom counter. It’s probably beating the bejeezus out of the porcelain sink in there as we speak.
Alright! The Learning Kingdom’s Word of the Day today is terpsichorean. I’m going to be positively insufferable today. Here’s what they say about it:
“The namesake of the adjective terpsichorean is the Greek muse
Terpsichore. Terpsichore was one of the nine muses of Greek
mythology. Often shown dancing and holding a lyre, she presided over
the arts and sciences. Terpsichore was said to have inspired those
who excelled at dancing.
Not surprisingly, the adjective terpsichorean describes something
that relates to dance. Example: “Amy’s terpsichorean activities had
given her an enviable grace and agility.”
The adjective has been in use in English since the 1800s.”
If you want to get their emails and sound like a real egghead too, go to their website and sign up. As of today’s email, there are 492,876 of us out there confusing people with our erudite language.
Oh great. Just WONDERFUL. Next thing you know, They are going to have us drinking cokes outside during our little “Coke Breaks”.