Missed you terribly, askye.

No more breaking up with the board, people!

I was first on the internet, or anyhow hooked into a message board system, in 1989, on a Vax. Prior to that, I did noodle around on what I guess was my college's intranet (though I think it was just called "the system"), whereby you could go to the Computer Center, type up your paper and save it to some sort of primitive server that may well have been a team of robots, vacuum tubes, and an elderly cork bulletin board in the basement. You could also IM other people on "the system," though we didn't call it IM'ing; you "fingered" people you knew to see if they were logged in, and then you, um, typed at each other.

In my senior year someone introduced me to a way to search for various professors' home pages -- a handful of the savvier ones had home pages consisting of their names, the courses they were taking, their office hours and phone numbers, and pithy quotes from their favorite deep thinkers. All in little dot-matrixy green type on a black screen. And then someone showed me how to get to a SF writers' bulletin board run by a student at maybe Cornell or maybe MIT, with lots and lots of stories written by folks everywhere. Including a HHGTTG-like lark of a roman a clef by Greg Rucka, full to bursting with classmates in various disguises and silly ears.

Then I graduated, and there was no more of that until the imminent death of MSCL drove me out into the by-then-much-less-primitive wilds of Netscape in search of a save-our-show effort. Which didn't save the show, but did eventually lead me to Salon and the Buffistas and Hec, so it all turned out very nicely indeed.

eta: Hil! That rocks! Congratulations!

And continued flirt~ma to Fay, with the ability to just enjoy it and not let all the body and other image demons sabotage the light and delicious pleasures of a good early flirt.

Okay, I'm not sure why this is so annoying to me today, but every day since I've been back at this assignment somebody has handed me a birthday card to sign.

I'm getting sick of it. Something in me just wants to scream "I'm a temp, I don't know you people, I don't care if you have a happy birthday. Stop shoving obligatory well-wishes at me, I'm not part of your club!"

I think what adds to the annoyance is this faux-cloak-and-dagger way they have of handing you the card to sign. It's in a manila folder, discreetly labelled "Birthday" and inside is the card and a phone list so's you can cross your name off and take it, stealthy-like, to the next sucker on the list, mwahaha. And they always come into your cubicle looking somber with this folder so you're on edge thinking "What work are you going to give me?" and they put it down on your desk with a "sly" wink and move on.

It just bugs the shit out of me today for some reason. I just want to punch 'em in the neck.

Good thing lunch is soon.

Joe, Joe, Joe. Are you seriously trying to make us believe that you can't come up with something to sign so disturbing and yet innocuous to sign on these cards that the recipients end up losing a few nights' sleep? And under any name you want since they won't know who it's from in the first place? It's like I don't even know you.

I'm finding coordinating changing gears and indicating very difficult. Multitasking is not my forte.

That's why I drive an automatic! And I always will. Manuals are so futzy!

Joe, Joe, Joe. Are you seriously trying to make us believe that you can't come up with something to sign so disturbing and yet innocuous to sign on these cards that the recipients end up losing a few nights' sleep? And under any name you want since they won't know who it's from in the first place? It's like I don't even know you.

You know, that option never occurred to me. I guess I'm just not invested in these people.

But you've given me some food for thought for the next card. Something like "Another year survived, despite my best efforts. Signed, A Secret Admirer."

I figured you would be signing them "Clark Kent" or "Bruce Wayne". OH, or "Chuck Norris".

Joe, Joe, Joe. Are you seriously trying to make us believe that you can't come up with something to sign so disturbing and yet innocuous to sign on these cards

This was my EXACT thought. MM, good lord, you are the quickest wit in the world...come up with a signature 'thing' you sign and let the poor mundanes who have not one fraction of your internal life get on with their faux clever fun. Pity them. But don't punch them...that way lies restraining orders.

Go you Jars with the driving! And the not maiming.

AND, while I enjoy the occasional automatic transmission, I have this irrational fear of people not learning how to drive a manual. What happens if you are in an emergancy? And the only thing that will safely drive you out of the burning warehouse is a manual transmission forklift? Be prepared!!

I have this irrational fear of people not learning how to drive a manual. What happens if you are in an emergancy?

Or more importantly - what happens if you're on TAR and have to drive with a manual transmission??

Seriously. My mean & rotten parents forced me to learn on a manual and take my driver's test on the manual and I can't thank them enough for doing so.

In fact, I never drove an automatic until I had to move someone's car in college and I sat in the driver's seat completely perplexed for a few minutes.

In fact, I never drove an automatic until I had to move someone's car in college and I sat in the driver's seat completely perplexed for a few minutes.

I had the same experience! I was all, "what? you're supposed to start it in Park? not Neutral?"