pissing behind the
dumpster while your best friend looks
on – you’re my bro, bro

I came home to a frat boy incorrectly using the dumpster in the parking lot, his buddy parked next to it and .. well, staring. He was staring at his friend as he was peeing. Not my thing, but I’m not one to judge – go ahead and treat my back yard like a toilet; it’s not like there’s a McDonalds with that high-falutin’ indoor plumbing literally 60 feet to your left or anything. Go douche bag pride!

I think I’ve finally caught up on my sleep, and all it cost me was a night out. It figures that I wouldn’t be able to truly rest until the weekend, but I’ll take it. Plus, sausages! And two more nights of decadent sideways sleeping! Things are looking up. Not parking lot piss show up, but up all the same.

Some enterprising huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo stole the last can of Diet Coke from my stash at work, and I. Am. Pissed.

Take a can? Sure, go ahead. I don’t mind. Even if I’m not actually at my desk and you’re thirsty, that’s cool – I can share. But to take the LAST can without asking me or saying anything or, you know, not taking it at all is da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze. What the fuck, people. Now I’m cranky AND thirsty. Never get between me and my Diet Coke – that’s just BEGGING for an impolite nickname.

Still tired. Better than yesterday, but tired. Looking forward to tomorrow – there is absolutely nothing on my plate but laundry, and I intend to catch up on my sleep. I’m supposed to go out tonight, but I’m torn between the blissful silence of an empty home and the sure-to-be-fun of Board Game Night.  I’m gonna leave the decision to my future self because I’m too busy looking up Chinese swears on the internet to think straight right now (seriously, who the fuck steals the last of someone’s stash) – throw in some imperious demands emailed to me and the fact that I didn’t get any packages in the mail again, and you’ve got a very grumbly Friday complete with a righteously indignant Kimli.

Tah mah duh hwoon dahn!

I’m either coming down with sleeping sickness, or caffeine and I need to have a long boring talk about our relationship.

I’m tired. Beyond tired, even – I’m exhausted and more than likely drooling. There’s no real reason for me to be so tired, and I’ve tried all week to catch up on my sleep but each time I do it’s a restless endeavor that leaves me cranky and worse off than before. What gives? I have no trouble falling asleep, but once I’m there I’m lucky if I stay under for 20 minutes at a time. There’s a great deal of tossing and turning, and I’m always too hot never too cold you take your best shot too hot to hold and it sucks. I need to figure this out, and soon – so I’m Doing Science for the next few days. Ed is out of town, so we will see if I get a better sleep tonight. If not, I will stop drinking Diet Coke past 8pm and see if that helps. I’ve narrowed my problem down to either Ed (he won’t let me sleep sideways) or the caffeine (I take Diet Coke to bed with me), and something’s gotta give before I explode in a fountain of blood and glitter.

Today is St. Patrick’s Day. I am wearing a green sweater, green eyeliner, and a green necklace – I look like a slutty 4-leaf clover, but I’m okay with that.

Here is a video by a nice young man who overdubbed the House of Pain’s Jump Around in Gaelic – it is pretty awesome:

Dún do chlab, dún do bhéal, éist le mo scéal
Má cheapann tú go dtuigeann tú tá tú cur i géill

Bring on the frozen thighs and knee pads – it’s riding season! I thought I saw a glimmer of sunlight out the window this morning, and all at once could no longer handle taking the bus every day. It’s been an unusually wet end-of-winter around these parts; I don’t think I’ve waited this long to start riding since the year I bought my first scooter. Freedom! I has it! Smell ya later, transit!

Of course, the forecast for the next ten days or so show nothing but rain so I’ll probably end up on the bus again tomorrow .. but today I will enjoy the ride.

I am seriously conflicted about something and in a bizarre-to-me position of silence for the sake of discretion. I live my life like an open pop-up porno book, and NOT saying something that’s on my mind is just alien and backwards. It’s not about any of you, I’m not dancing around the Passive Aggression Pole, and I’m not dropping thinly-veiled hints at anyone in particular so put down the butter knives; I’m just wrestling with my need to write about the WTF and my desire to not upset anyone. Maybe I’ll write about it later – after I’ve spoken to someone in the same boat – and see where it goes. Maybe I’ll come up with some insane analogies to hide the truth but get my point across anyway. Maybe I’ll just sit here and drink Diet Coke. I HATE not writing about things, damnit.

My 10-year bloggiversary is in two weeks and I haven’t thought of anything fun to do outside of justifying the purchase of an iPad 2 to myself. Boooo.

Me: Someone is wearing perfume that I know, but I can’t place it .. who smells?
Her: It’s me, but it’s not a regular perfume .. I got it from a sex shop.
Me: Well, that explains why it smells so familiar.

People attempting to take over my job make me angry. KIMLI SMASH and also send extremely snotty emails!

I’m a cynic at heart, and often (correctly) assume that some conditions are over-exaggerated in the name of selling products to quell your fears. The cosmetics industry is the worst for this; a billion dollar industry created by making women feel bad about aging and preying on the resulting self-loathing. Knowing this and feeling smugly superior about the ability to see the Big Picture doesn’t guarantee immunity, though – if that were true, my morning ritual could be reduced to a quick spray of water from the kitchen and I’d be on my way. A quick mental tally tells me I use a staggering 22 different cosmetic products before I leave the house in the morning; each designed to volumize, freshen, conceal, brighten, smooth, widen and gleam. It’s a pain in the ass, but I’ll still do it every day because I’ve been brought up to dislike how I look with a “naked” face – it’s not MY face; I look like a stranger. I only feel comfortable when slathered with layer after layer of creams and powders and glitter.

(I have a point; bear with me). Since I am so smugly superior about it all, I naturally assumed that products designed to eliminate dark circles from under your eyes are a load of bunk. People don’t REALLY get eye circles; it’s just bad lighting causing shadows and/or paranoia. Those pricey creams don’t actually do anything but fool you into thinking that NOW you won’t age; you’re protected by the cream! What vain fools people are!

Imagine my surprise, then, when I awoke this morning and discovered that not only do dark circles under the eyes actually EXIST; they come in different fun shapes for all your “let’s look half dead” needs. I had honest-to-dog darkness under my eyes this morning  – even Ed could see the dark shapes under my eyes that were not caused by lighting. They were real, and they were triangles. Dark circles under the eyes are for amateurs – I am rocking dark triangles of sleeplessness and woe. Awesome!

I look like the friggin’ Crow.

Here is an ASCII representation of what I look like right now:

apparently i also look like andre the giant

I have no nose, I rose from the dead, and I’m going to kick your ass with several straight-to-DVD sequels. Yeah, you better run. My dark triangles will FUCK YOU UP.

Caw!

For Sale: my iPad

• 1st Gen 32GB iPad with wi-fi
• Pristine condition
• Official Apple case
• Awesome Portenzo case
• This thing, in case you want to be utterly ridiculous like me
• Incredibly useful iPad stand that makes your iPad all fancy
• George has touched it

Asking $550 obo.

Yeah, I’m upgrading. I love my iPad, but I bet I would love the iPad 2 even more. I originally got it to replace my laptop, and it performed admirably – was very, very nice to have around for a dozen or more reasons. I’d actually like to keep both devices so Ed could have a device to take with him when traveling (he takes the 7-year old, 20lb Dell laptop instead), but he doesn’t want it which is for sad. So, I’m selling it. Buy my iPad and love her as I did.

kimli at delicious juice dot com if interested.

The boss is away, so the mice will play serve pie.

It’s Pi Day, and I brought in ALL THE PIES EVER (okay, 8) to feed the office at lunch today. They can’t expect me to do the whole “culture” thing without a bizarrely strong emphasis on nerd culture, so in addition to Pi Day we will be celebrating Star Wars Day, Geek Pride Day, Talk Like a Pirate Day, and SysAdmin Day. Unfortunately (or otherwise, considering I’m talking about work) we’ve already missed International Fetish Day for the year, but there’s always No Pants Day (aka everyday for me).

I should make a Technical Writer Appreciation Day. No one thinks of us until they have to document something, and then people realize how awesome we are. No one in their right mind WANTS to do documentation except for us, but here we are. Appreciate me, damnit! My work is valuable!

As a representative of the People and Culture team, I must always be keenly attuned to diversity. I realize that not everyone is into pie, so in the spirit of entendre equality, I present you this image:

thanks wanda :D

You’re welcome.

I’m bad at everything most people seem to take for granted – today I discovered that I am bad at coffee.

Living between a Tim Hortons and a McDonalds means one of us will go out to get breakfast on non-brunch weekends. I was up and at them before Ed this morning, so I was tasked with the Fetchening – Ed needed coffee; I needed Diet Coke, and some breakfast meats would also be nice. I made it to McDonalds just before the menu changed, ordered up some vittles, and made my way across the treacherous parking lot home .. only to be continually perplexed by the coffee cup. Why won’t the contents stay in it? The lid is on, but it’s spewing coffee out all over me and it’s hot and it stinks. I figured I lost half the cup up my sleeve and down my pants, but when I got home it was STILL FULL. Is coffee magic? I think there may have been magic involved.

I’m still not going to drink the stuff, though. It reeks and now I need a shower.

Stupid magic coffee.

People in the US can text REDCROSS to 90999 to donate $10. Canadians, text REDCROSS or ASIA to 30333 to donate $5 (you can donate by phone up to 6x per month) or donate through the Red Cross website (there are some reports that 30333 still goes to the Haiti fund – honestly, it doesn’t matter; your help is needed). You can also donate through Global Giving if you prefer.

If you’re anywhere on the west coast of North America, stay off the beaches.

Google has set up a Person Finder for people looking for loved ones.

Twitter is proving to be an invaluable resource for news and information – hashtags to follow include #japan #tsunami #eqjp #earthquake – but beware false or misleading information, especially about tsunami warnings.

Al Jazeera was running much more in-depth coverage of events than CNN; you can watch the English stream online.

Live coverage, including emergency numbers for various languages, can be found on the Timeout Tokyo site.

I hate that I can do so little to help other than donate.

Be safe, everyone.