I don't like the idea of being cremated. I'd rather rot in the ground and feed an apple tree then be burned up in an oven to be stored in a box on the top shelf of somebody's closet, or dumped somewhere.

When I was growing up in Oregon we lived near a graveyard that had apple trees in it. We'd sit in the trees eating green apples, and chucking the cores at each other and reading the gravestones. Gravestones are cool, and shoeboxes full of ashes are not.

I want a gravestone. I think I finally have an epitaph for it:

ARCHAEOLOGISTS DIG HERE!

people are different and some things are important to some people and not important to others.

Lookie there.

people are different and some things are important to some people and not important to others.

Whaaaaaat.

people are different and some things are important to some people and not important to others.

Have you been talking to Jesse again?

Separate post, because it deserves it: sincerest sorrow for you, Katerina B.

(I had my Mom as a single parent for about that long, come to think of it.)

I am so sorry Katie.

I like the idea of cremation, but I don't know where the ashes would go. Tossed off the Mackinaw Bridge, maybe?

In other news, a coworker who started about a month ago quit suddenly last week. Ok, mid-trial period, not every job suits every person. Fine. Well, I found out today that she'd sent an email to her manager explaining, in extreme detail, how awful all of us—my entire department—are. I was like, "We ate lunch together once? It seemed fine?" Anyhow, way to go from "best of luck with your future endeavors" to "bite my entire ass, bitca" in five seconds flat.

I'm so sorry, Katie Bee.

Like what? Of the "only for left handed chemistry majors from New Jersey" kind of thing, or "only to be used for paying for sharpies for the staff" or?

Yes. I mean, not quite that bad, but yes. A lot of financial aid for only people from certain places or whatever.