not falling down

Overheard in an office nearby:

“Yeah, and then I’ll dial into the application over the web.”

Difficult, but not impossible, I guess.

While on hold with the cable company for half an hour last night:

“Hit a home run with Insight’s Double and Triple Play deals!”

Okay, now that’s impossible.

Okay, one more nitpick. From Jon:

“… a Danville Cracker Barrel restaurant has been unwittingly selling postcards of Louisville’s skyline, emblazoned with ‘Lexington.’”

Danville: Home to Centre College. Host of a 2004 Presidential Debate. Thanks, Danville. Danville.

So here I am, sitting prissy, picking over MSN articles, and meanwhile Lisa is out making the world safer by investigating ferocious parasite alien dachsunds! (Maria, don’t read that, there’s bugs.) I need to start making real posts; MSN is too easy a target.

So what’s new? I already talked about moving in on Friday, and I can’t talk about the long and very funny conversation I had with Ian on Thursday night because it’s still top secret. Sunday I bought a TV. Monday I mostly just waited for the cable guy (who, mysteriously, has yet to tell me how to turn on the interweb).

Okay, so Saturday! Kim and I went to the GSP Grand Reunion, which was predictably disappointing. There was absolutely nobody there from Centre ‘98 except me, and only three people from Northern (one of whom, happily, was Buddah). I did get to see a lot of people who worked with me at EKU, including Eve, Henry and Meg C. Henry seemed mildly miffed that they only started giving out a Comp Sci award the year after he left; he would have been the undisputed winner, and I promised I’d try to get Dr. Shannon to rename it the Henry McEuen Barefoot Memorial Prize. He seemed mollified, but then I think Henry is kind of on a permanent molly-setting.

Afterwards me and the dish took a taxi (it was the night of taxis; I could write an entry just on Louisville taxis) to Evan’s swanky digs for Christopher’s goodbye party. I think it was intended to be Thanksgiving-themed, but (seriously) I forgot the cornucopia. Christopher and I never exactly drank out of the same bottle, but I was sorry to see him go, and I was pleased as punch to see a couple of dolls who go by “Alison” and “Emily Tate.” Emily Tate apparently can’t stand it when there are entries in this journal that are not about her, but then again, I can’t stand it when Emily Tate has pants on. The gams! I’m dizzy with that dame. We all got troubles. Tough luck, toots!

Deb has read Shopgirl, so I’m not alone. Novocaine was her only other Steve Martin recommendation, and I’d heard it panned but will snag it with interest now that it’s Deb-endorsed. Deb takes endorsement to an art form. Get a blog, Deb!

(And that’s the crop.)