I love waking up a bit early, glancing at the clock to see how much time is left before the alarm goes off, then realizing it’s Saturday.

Oh, fuck it.

I’m dying to go do something tonight, but all my friends have plans or are out of town or something. WAIL!

Today the Cock’s reviewed Don’t Say A Word (whatever–it’s not on my must-see list) and at the end of the review the SMC’s editor asked for suggestions on how to view Magic Eye pictures. I know, I know, you have to read the whole thing to get it. I sent him this note:

The only way I ever got them was to use a technique that can
only be tried privately.

First, take off all your clothes.
Next, put your nose right on picture.
Do the eye-relaxing thing.
Move your head away from the picture slowly.

It’s possible I’m lying about part of the instructions.

I’m in an angry way. But it’s a good angry way. I want to put on loud music and change the world. I want to pile friends into a rented car, drive in a random direction, and laugh ’til we’re sick. I want to punch something many, many times.

I neglected to mention that our new Chief US Marshall looks like Lou Rawls. A lot like Lou Rawls.

I just returned from a building briefing on bioterrorism. It was not as excruciating as I anticipated. He started out boring as hell, but then he was talking about the terror created by the infection of less than seven people; “Er, that’s a nice way of saying six.” We laughed. He loosened up after that. Interesting facts:

In 1998, there were about 30 anthrax hoaxes nationwide.
In 1999, there were about 5 per week.
In the last two weeks, there have been 3300 hoaxes.

He said he saw Tom Brokaw on the news asking: “Have we over-reported this?” Duh.

He (by the way, I don’t remember the speaker’s name. Sue me.) talked about the list you go over when you receive a threatening phonecall. It contains tons and tons of questions, because often the caller wants to talk about the whys and wherefores, so you get a lot of information. At the end of the form you ask (seriously) for the caller’s address. He said: “Maybe by the time you’ve gone through this whole thing you’ve built such a wonderful rapport that he’ll give you his email address and meet you for coffee at Starbuck’s.”

Anthrax is heavy and dark (though cutting agents can be anything). You have to do something stupid like slam a door or shake the envelope to get it in the air real good-like.

If we must be decontaminated, it will not be like Indiana where they sent everyone out on the sidewalk, stripped them, and hosed them down. To this, my boss shouted: “Are there any pictures?” I then struck my boss with an empty water bottle.

I confess. I keep going back to stare at Jerwie’s pic of Connor Trineer. Someday I need to update my crush page. Hubba.

I just went to pick up an Avon order (cheap shampoo!) from a lady in the office. Her Windows wallpaper is a picture of Mount Hood that I gave her. It was taken by a roommate that I haven’t seen in five years. It makes me feel weird because: 1. It’s a little like seeing a ghost, even though he isn’t dead; 2. Why on earth would anyone keep the same wallpaper for five years?

Tonight is Third Thursday, when Kitty holds court at an Irish pub and meets new people. Looks to be a fun night. Have I said lately that I love Portland? I should say that every ten posts or so. I love Portland.

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