HI there

I half-suspect the intervention of some watchful LJ elf—or possibly a carpenter ant—but from out of the blue Our Friend in Hawaii asked me to call her tonight. We spoke for two hours, and it was comfortable and flirty and giggly, as it should be. She is still awfully, awfully far away, and it's still a little hard for me to talk to her about her sweetie, but I feel much less disconnected from her now. Thank you, possibly nonexistent LJ elf! My only regret is that I told her the tiger-pee story, which caused her to laugh at me for five minutes, and which she is going to relate to her friends in Hawaii.

(And no, dear readers, I am not going to tell you the tiger-pee story. That was a cruel and completely unnecessary tease on my part.)

"Me me me" meme

This is one of those things that LJ people do, apparently, and lo, I will do it too, so nobody will think I'm a dork.

If I go to Google's image search and enter my LJ username, exactly one image pops up:

.

And it is, in fact, a picture of me. (Or, rather, a picture of my right arm and part of my torso involved in a Laocoonical tangle of people.)

If, instead, I enter my first name without the 7, I get plenty of results. The game is, you pick your favorite image from the first page of results and post it. My favorite is this kid named Jeremy making out with a panda:



(This seems like an ephemeral game, by which I mean that people reading my journal next year might not see the pictures, because they might be gone. That's the web, I guess.)

Dog-slobber

I am covered, not unpleasantly, in dog slobber. I cut through the park behind my building on the way to work, and a small white bulldog named Rae, compact and ovoid as all bulldogs are, tore across the winter grass to greet me. It seems I was the best thing to happen to Rae all afternoon, because she put her paws on my thighs, mock-bit at my fingers, drooled a lot, and basically quivered herself onto a higher plane of delight. It was difficult to focus on her, and harder still to pet her, she bounced around so quickly.

News for Scottish dancers: on last night's Home Movies, Coach McGuirk revealed himself to be a former Highland Dance star. They managed not to ridicule him too much, and by the end of the episode he demonstrated some creditable cartoon high cuts. The initial conversation went something like this:

Brendan: Oh, Scottish Highland--is that like step dancing?
Coach: No! Brendan. Nothing like that crap. It's not Irish, it's Scottish.
B: But aren't you Irish?
C: Yeah, but I'm not gay. It's different. All right? It's like a sport. People die.

Also, they poked fun at Amelie! Heh heh. Two presents for me.

I think, today, I finally got a handle on Proper Rhythm Guitar Method for Scottish Jigs. This is probably boring enough to go behind a ( cut. )