The air vent that is blowing directly down on my cube seriously needs to stop now.

Like iron ore is some compound containing iron that you have to chemically extract the iron from.

Precisely. Which is why the Iron Age (around 1200 BC) was even later than the Bronze Age, ALTHOUGH there was some free meteoric iron, which is why some Egyptians had iron daggers around 3000 BC which were known as "Daggers from Heaven." Apparently.

So yes, metals found free as -t described include gold, copper, tin, silver, and meteoric iron, versus ores, which, er,

Ore minerals are generally oxides, sulfides, silicates, or "native" metals (such as native copper) that are not commonly concentrated in the Earth's crust or "noble" metals (not usually forming compounds) such as gold. The ores must be processed to extract the metals of interest from the waste rock and from the ore minerals.

says Wikipedia. Honestly, I know nothing, but the little bit I do know seems cool! I always thought "iron ore" meant, like, there was a vein of pure iron sort of threading through the ground, but it actually means some kind of oxide mixed with "gangue" -- rock, clay, sand -- from which you have to gradually and with some difficulty extract first the ore and THEN the iron!

I should stop reading news and get back to work. But, Mary Ann is a stoner. [link] eta: she looks damn good for 69 - must be the pot

You would invite us if you were getting married, right?

But of course.

Meanwhile, my boss just asked if I'm secretly getting married this weekend, because my nails are so fancy.

I did my nails this weekend, and everyone thought I had a hot date.

She thinks he is the devil on earth.

So Congress is where he belongs.

she looks damn good for 69 - must be the pot

My first thought when I saw that yesterday was that she had done much better in the mug shot department than most arrested celebrities.

What's especially funny to me is that as soon as I got up at the salon, I fucked up the polish on two of the nails, but decided to leave it rather than risk my own sloppy job, and it's white-ish polish, so it's not really that noticeable, I figured -- and I guess I was right?

"My friend just got fired," Deb said. And the cashier reached behind her and grabbed one of those 3-pack bricks of dark chocolate and dropped it in Deb's bag, saying, "Give her this. I find chocolate always helps."

Awww, yay random human kindness!

No wonder the fucking job was open for over a year. Fuckers.

Ooh, I figure that's usually a bad sign. Unless it's some sort of bizarro complicated job that only three people can really do and none of them want to relocate to Boise, it shouldn't be open that long...

OMG, my ex knows me very well, and just sent me this link for jewelry I think many Buffistas will also enjoy.

My favorite school supply was brand new notebooks. I still enjoy them.

I would admire the wives a heck of a lot more if they actually spoke up and said, "What a jackhole. I'm outtie." than I do when they just stand there, feigning interest but really killing them in their heads.

Or even if they were like "Fuck you, we MAY work this out, POSSIBLY, with a lot of counseling and GROVELING, but I'm not going to your damn press conference, and won't be seen in public with you for at least six months"

For those inclined to Easter gifties: [link]

also Heifer bunnies and/or chicks.

Or even if they were like "Fuck you, we MAY work this out, POSSIBLY, with a lot of counseling and GROVELING, but I'm not going to your damn press conference, and won't be seen in public with you for at least six months"

Dina McGreevey wrote for the NYT opinion page today on what it was like for her:

For me, I was essentially in the dark about what my husband was going to say. He never told me he was gay; he simply passed me a copy of his speech an hour before the press conference. I was in a fog. I certainly didn’t volunteer. I was in no emotional state to make a rational decision, and there simply wasn’t time. He asked me to stand next to him, and I did.

Frankly, all I was thinking about was my daughter. If I had to do it over again, I’d do the same thing. I did it for my daughter’s father.

eta: I hit post when a student walked into my office, before I got to say: It takes a special bastard to tell his wife by handing her a copy of what he's going to read to the press.