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Ouatic-7 [userpic]
No EMP For Me, Please

So, I get up about 4AM this morning, thinking I'll eat breakfast and get an early start on butcheringrya_kelley's baby.

I sit with the cats on the landing a bit until an altercation seems imminent, then go down. Still dawdling I play sudoku a while before I get the kettle going.

Power failure. The whole neighborhood.

I consider getting out my lap top but my neighbors aren't going to have any more wireless than I do and it doesn't have much charge on, anyway, it so I can't even watch a DVD.

I think about getting dressed and going to Denny's.

I sit there in the dark, still playing sudoku on my PDA, the tiny screen my only light.

pilgham emerges. "It's too quiet. I can't sleep without all my white noise generators." His AC, his fan, his radio. He rustles up a flashlight and lights the stove with a match to make his coffee and my tea.

It starts to get light out and I open the drapes and can actually read.

Thr power comes back on at 8.

I have survived three and a half hours with no modern conveniences, except my PDA. Life is good.

I gotta get started on that baby.

Mood: calmcalm

Good God, you could have died!

For lack of anything better to say I will now include a copy of a witticism I read this morning on another forum.

Post...I don't think you really need to be a good reader to pump gas, I dunno.

I do know one thing, though, and that is that my employer does *not* think that spelling and reading skills are important when considering a job candidate. This is evidenced by the dozens of illiterate work emails I get daily, and by the fact that one of the guys I work for called me yesterday because he was having problems installing his "printer cartilage."

Response: Tell him you don't need to replace the cartilage in a biomechanical inkjet printer. It's probably just a tentacle jam.

I do wonder how I survived the 60's and 70's. Did I go outside? Did I talk to neighbors? I actually did go outside this morning and, at 5-ish, there really wasn't anyone to talk to except P who had already gone back to bed.

Everyone makes typos in emails, but it drives me mad when my co-workers use bad grammar and spelling in specs and stuff. What's even worse is when they say, "I'm no good at English," like it is something to be proud of.

The upside of this is my specs are universally admired.

But of course they are admired!

I suspect you did things as I do even now and lit a candle and read a paperback.

I picked up a rotting Phyllis A. Whitney Black Amber (1964) last night where I was working (OK, so I'm a filtcher of stray paperbacks from the bulging bins of discarded books in nursing homes, so sue me)and had to wonder how this woman ever got published. The heroine's intrusive and vapid behavior is only matched by that of those around her.

The discovery of a dropped scarf in the abandond house next door leads to a wild thrill of significance. But the house in question seems to be grand central station from the way it is described and there appears to be no signifigance to the scarf except for its existance. Was everybody trying to write like Daphine DuMaurer? Why does the heroine persist in grabbing up and hugging stray cats without them clawing her face. Does the writer suffer from an unsatisfied craving for cat companionship? Am I going to finish this book? Every page I turn comes off in my hands. Fanficcage is in good company.

It sounds like the heroine would piss me off too much for me to finish the book. The lingering hope that one of the cats would claw the cow would not provide enough interest.

Much of it is pleasant enough because the characters do not figure in it, you see. It reads like a tourist guide of the time bolstered by the memories of a single visit. There is no need for the explanations or descriptions but they are oddly evocative of the time. By that I mean they are evocative of the dozens of movies churned out in the late 50'/early 60s which feature long and inexplicable drives in the country in which the story is set. In an oddly sanitized and sunny Istanbul here.

We can only dream of the heroine getting tetanus from the earrings she just clipped on to her ears. Or she got a nasty scratch in her leg stumbling around the house next door in the dark. Dare we hope for festering?

Make that candle a flashlight and change the PA Whitney title, and you have me late at night in the '70s! Once I figured that my bedroom light shined onto the backyard grass, where my parents could see it.

Occasionally my dad would wake me up at 8 or 9 a.m. after I'd stayed up until 4:00, reading. No, dad, it was not too nice a day to sleep through!

And your butchery is much appreciated.

Did I mention my hourly charge?

Name it, my dear, I'm sure you're earning it.

...get an early start on butchering inusaga's baby.

Is it wrong of me to think of Sweeny Todd and human meat pies? You, butcher you ;p Mmmm. Barbecue...

Mmmm, hot chili oil....

Hong Kong has their own version which I have never seen, but Anthony WOng is an awesome actor. Not a musical, though also based on a real guy.

The Untold Story: Human Meat Roast Pork Buns

I only mention this because I'm more likely to eat bao than English style meat pies.

I have survived three and a half hours with no modern conveniences, except my PDA. Life is good.

And you didn't resort to cave painting or anthing? Wow.

You're getting up at 4am now. Trying to get the jump on me?

Mmmm... Saturday. Want to make the most of it.

Plus 18 chapters of Inusaga's story I promised her for today which I have already reneged on.

18 is a lot to do at once. Is she trying to keep you all to herself?

Well, I volunteered. Originally I was just going to skim but I couldn't resist my thigh high boots and snake whip.