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I did not just read this: Obama plan expands offshore oil drilling.
Awesome. Just fucking awesome. I've been down this road before--twenty years ago when I was living in NC. I fought like hell to make sure this bullshit wouldn't happen. We were able to dodge the bullet for a while but not anymore, it would seem.
They'll be drilling in Virginia. How long will it be before the Outer Banks are ruined? What are the chances Wrightsville Beach will end up spoiled? We all know spills have a tendency to spread out; like it or not this will affect NC. To hell with Michael Bay, this rapes my childhoods. I could absolutely cry.
Stop the world, I wanna get the fuck off. NOW.
Primus, am I ever glad I voted third party.
EDIT @ 1:08PM: CNN just showed us a nice big fat map of areas approved for offshore drilling. Guess who's on there? If you said the coast of North Carolina, you'd be right. (I just screamed at the television in abject rage when I saw that.) Godmotherfuckingdammit. Now I am going to go cry.
That's pretty much what I said about twenty minutes ago. Only it was louder and a lot angrier.
As you may or may not know, I've been on the world's biggest writing tear as of late. I'm doing my damnedest to write what looks to be a novel (which is why I've been slacking in the blog department... gotta work on that...) and it's been coming along pretty decently. So twenty minutes ago I opened up my file on Alexa, preparing for another fruitful day of writing.
That's when I noticed that the word count was off by nearly 2,500 words. Oh and seven pages had simply vanished.
What. The. FUCK?!
Where the hell did my work go?! Sure, it doesn't seem like a whole helluva lot, but it's a shit-ton of blood, sweat and tears for me. And here it had simply disappeared into the freaking ether or something. About a third of a chapter was gone, along with a bunch of edits I had made to some of my previous stuff. It wasn't there. It was as if I had closed the file without saving any changes at all. And yes, that is completely impossible because I hit CTRL+S about three times before I closed the file late yesterday. I always make sure I save my stuff. Always.
Yeah, I kinda wanted to cry at that point. And trudge back upstairs to get my notebook so I could re-transcribe everything I had written yesterday. Not an awesome prospect, I tell ya.
That's when I remembered that I had always backed up my file on a 40 gig drive that Prime had purchased from a coworker a couple of months ago. Earlier this month, I told him I didn't exactly want just one lone copy of what I was working on; bad things could happen and if the file was accidentally deleted, I'd be in a shitload of trouble. So he suggested I save a back up on the 40 gig. It sounded like a good idea, so I did. So I opened up the external drive and prayed that the same thing hadn't happened to my secondary file.
The back up was fine. Everything was there. So that external hard drive just paid for itself by saving my sorry ass. (Thank you, Prime. I seriously owe you for this!)
So what did we learn, class? "Always back your shit up!" Very good! Trust me, it's a lesson I ain't gonna forget.
--Weasel, "Now if my damned heart rate would come the hell down and my hands would quit shaking, I'd be fine...!"
The most awesome cow statue in the universe, spotted at Miller Park. From 2008.
(I like to milk baseball season for all it's worth...)
Wedding gifts Prime and I received during the dinner. September 21, 2009.
(No, we haven't popped the cork on either bottle, if you're wondering.)
Yes, you are reading that right: Transformers Cologne by Hasbro. (Link was originally found here.)
I need this. Badly. I don't care if it's for guys. I wanna smell like Bumblebee!
--Weasel, "I'll bet Bumblebee smells totally yummy..."
Today was not a good day.
To be perfectly blunt, I should be writing a five page rant here, screaming and yelling about just how screwed up my job really is and just how much I fucking hate it.
But I won't. I feel absolutely no need.
So what happened today? Oh, nothing much--I found out that I had inadvertently taken several fraudulent coupons. (What should have pissed me off about that? They all scanned and it has been drilled into our heads that if they scan, we can take them. Guess not.) On top of that, one of the heads proceeded to bitch me out because she swore that I came back from my last break late. (Why should that have pissed me off? I got to the break room at three minutes past four. I got back to the front at 4:19. That's 16 minutes, not twenty-two. Somebody fails at math. Hard.)
Three days ago, I'd be pissed off beyond all words in the known English language. But as I type this right now, I feel nothing. No anger, no frustration, no nothing. Why? Because I figure it doesn't really matter anymore. I can't force myself to give a royal shit about that job. It's nothing. All it does is provide a paycheck that helps pay my bills. It is nothing to me. It holds no meaning, save for the money.
What I truly live for, what I truly do, what actually holds meaning to me, I do at home.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put on some mood music (Joe Hisaishi, natch) and add a few more words to that story of mine. Even if all I do is a quick edit, I'll actually accomplish something worthwhile today... unlike the eight hours I spent behind a register doing absolutely nothing of consequence.
--Weasel, "I've gone from hating my job to total apathy. I don't know if that's awesome or not."
Happy Daylight Savings Time and pleasant dreams.
Lincoln Logs, as displayed at Hasbro. BotCon 2007.
(I knew they had been around for a while but damn...!)
Sign spotted at Hasbro during the first leg of our tour. From BotCon 2007.
("Welcome" to Hasbro? Man, I never wanted to leave...)
The scene: Our bathroom.
The time: Monday night
Prime walks in; he's rotating his arm.
Me: What's the matter? Were you leaning on your arm?
Prime: (nodding and grumbling)
Me: Is your arm asleep?
Prime: (more nodding and grumbling)
Me: (bending close to his arm) Here, let me help. (yelling at his arm) WAKE THE FUCK UP!!
Prime: (after slapping me on the ass for a few seconds) Jackass.
