Dear Spammers,

I don't know what kind of simple-minded sucker you think I am. You seem to have this weird notion that any mention of sex, racism, politics, debauchery, and possibly gambling will catch my attention. My friends and I are all intelligent human beings. We do not spend our days thinking about sex, sex, and debauchery. You know that bit about Britney Spears being one of the most popular Google searches? I assure you I had nothing to do with it. If you want to impress me, put up some intelligent spam. Go on, I dare you.

Dear Hostess (and spammers),

Please find a way to make a whole-wheat Twinkie. I am sure you can do it. It will surely be a better breakfast option than Sara's preservative-laden 100% Whole Wheat Bread.

Dear Sara (and assorted spammers),

It was very clever of you to say that your 100% Whole Wheat Bread is "better" for me. It definitely is "better" for me than a Twinkie. However, the preservatives you added make for a depressing counterpoint to all the ways in which you try to play up the naturalness and healthfulness of your product.

Another experiment.

Sex! Debauchery! Spam!

MNN. (My News Network)

I don't understand why none of the news networks have tickers worth reading. It took a good 10 minutes yesterday (and three channel changes) to figure out what was wrong with that JetBlue plane. There was plenty of footage of the front tire blowing apart and sparks all over the runway. The captions mentioned JetBlue, LAX, and something dire, but they never mentioned why the situation was so scary. And what is more, the announcer guy never mentioned why the situation was scary. Instead, he talked about what a great landing it was.

Well. There you go. I guess it's an indictment of society today. We want to know what happened, but we could care less why it happened.

I am sure tonight there will be plenty of interviews with various passengers. There will be the usual comments about how scary it was, whether it was good/bad to watch it on the television screen (personally I think that's very cool), and how professional and level-headed the crew were.

Maybe I'll watch that M*A*S*H rerun instead.

Groan.

I'm trying to decide whether that was 1) being creative, 2) being starry-eyed, or 3) rambling. Judging by the sweat pooling under the right armpit, I'm guessing 3).

The lesser of two evils

Should I sit in my ergonomically adjusted cubicle and let my fingers freeze, or should I sit in my ergonomically inappropriate lab and feel my fingers?

No, I can't wear gloves and type at the same time.

If I put on a sweatshirt in addition to my jacket, my core will roast by the time I can feel my fingers.

I have opted to regain the feeling in my fingers, but my shoulders are starting to ache already.

3 kinds of drivers.

My view of the world classifies drivers into three categories according to how they find an unfamiliar address.

1. Map drivers. These are the people who do some research and study the maps in advance. They are for the most part rational, logical, and IMHO, sensible.
2. GPS drivers. These are the people who adore their in-car GPS units. They plug in the address and do whatever it says, even if it tells you to drive around in circles. They are for the most part spontaneous and often not very sensible.
3. Random drivers. Their motto is, "You aren't lost until you've run out of gas."

I love light rail.

Note to self:

"Blackened" does not mean "A little charred around the edges". It means "coated with a fiery mix of spices and onion powder that will give you an unslakeable thirst and heartburn three hours later".

It would have been nice if they added the qualifier "spicy" or "piquant" to the menu. The service was slow, too. Not one of my favorite restaurants.

Z's here!

She and Y arrived in her adorable new car. We had tofu stew for dinner last night. It was delicious, but we agreed that it's not the same without J, especially since this particular tofu stew place offers a vegetarian version made with seaweed broth.

I can't ditch work, so we pretty much only have the evenings. Tonight we'll dine at Max's Opera Cafe, assuming our plans don't change. That means we won't have Chinese food on this trip. Oh well. That just gives us another excuse for more travel. Some stories just can't be told properly over the phone or e-mail.