I shoulda known

T.S.Eliot: The Wasteland. You are a desperate cry
to God, moulded in intricate word-craftmanship.
Your language is controlled, but inside, you
feel empty and are not content with your life.
You see both the world and your inner self as a
waste land: nothing good can come out of it
anyway. People find you difficult to understand
but admire you nevertheless.


Which literature classic are you?
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ganked from theodicy

(no subject)

Holy shit: "AESTHETICS OF HATE: R.I.P. DIMEBAG ABBOTT, & GOOD RIDDANCE." I would hope it's a joke. Whatever it is, it sure pissed off a bunch of people over here.

Crap. My co-worker Nancy's last day is today. I'm gonna miss her a lot. Not every 50-year-old book editor is hip enough to trade Napoleon Dynamite references with me.

DAMMIT. I just thought of what would have been the perfect going-away present for her. We've had many discussions about Office Space, and I didn't even think about getting her a red Swingline stapler like Milton's. And she had even begged me a while back to send her the link to where you can buy them! Totally dropped the ball on that one. Maybe I'll get her one for Festivus.

Heading south this weekend. GRACK! I have way too much stuff to do before then. But I'm really looking forward to seeing the family, getting away from work, and recharging the ol' batteries. I haven't taken any extended time off in a year.