largepete (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} largepete) wrote,@ 2005-04-06 13:47:00 |
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Picture pages picture pages
Time to get your Picture Pages,
Time to get your crayons and your pencils..."
I feel the need, the need for speed. Not really. I do feel the need to write here.
Here.
That wasn't as satisfying as I had imagined. Perhaps more is needed.
I haven't written anything here about a really big part of my life for fear of upsetting her or screwing up something important or something, but I think it's safe now.
Of course if this were a zombie flick, that'd mean this is the MOST unsafe time of all. It's not dead, it's just thinking about it's taxes for next year. Don't poke at it, chop it's head off with an axe!
But it's not. I know this much. It is in fact nothing like a zombie pic at all. It is much more like a girlfriend because that is exactly what it is. I know that anybody within 250 miles already knows about J, but there are some outside of this ring of fire that are in the dark. One of them was Chris C. as we finally connected via AIM last night. I was at the Wild Wing, he was at Harvard. He wanted to know if I wanted to split a room in N.C. for our mutual friend's wedding in May. I had to tell him that unfortunately, I did not want to because I had a date and that date was my special lady friend and for him to please not write some equation that would cause all the strings in my body to vibrate and thus making me pee my pants*.
He said okay.
She said, "I'm going to the beach."
I'm stuck at work testing Neural Networks and studying 61 pages of notes about glycolosis, neoglucogenesis, and the Kreb's cycle for a massive test on Friday, and she is on the beach listening to the waves and taking kick ass black and white pictures. I'm glad she's having fun, but I wish I were too.
I also am somewhat anxious and somewhat downtrodden with my house hunting results so far. I need a place for my dog (read fenced yard) and Bradizzle wants someplace to become a rock and roll star (read basement request) and I'm not finding jack right now. I did find a perfect place, but the poo-poo head that owns it won't let my dog come. I found another place, but it too has hitches. One is that it is unabailable until July 1 and the other being that it is out of digital cable range and so the only broadband is satellite (read a dave matthews song). On the plus side, it's out of town and on 16 acres of land. I mean woods, I mean awesomeness. The rent is cheap and it seemed pretty daggum nice on the outside. I'm still excited about it even though I'm sure it will fall through somehow.
Our cyrogens just showed up. 180 liters of LN2 (-195.8°C) and 160 liters of liquid He2 (−268.9°C). That means I gotta go. I'll leave you with a stupid link**.
* Chris is an evil mad scientist who is getting his Player hater Degree in some really whack physics like string theory or something like that. In short, just think of him as the emperor from Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, where he hits Skywalker (oh yeah, both of em) with the lightning from his fingers.
** http://jamster.com/s/jiw/html/affil
Time to get your Picture Pages,
Time to get your crayons and your pencils..."
I feel the need, the need for speed. Not really. I do feel the need to write here.
Here.
That wasn't as satisfying as I had imagined. Perhaps more is needed.
I haven't written anything here about a really big part of my life for fear of upsetting her or screwing up something important or something, but I think it's safe now.
Of course if this were a zombie flick, that'd mean this is the MOST unsafe time of all. It's not dead, it's just thinking about it's taxes for next year. Don't poke at it, chop it's head off with an axe!
But it's not. I know this much. It is in fact nothing like a zombie pic at all. It is much more like a girlfriend because that is exactly what it is. I know that anybody within 250 miles already knows about J, but there are some outside of this ring of fire that are in the dark. One of them was Chris C. as we finally connected via AIM last night. I was at the Wild Wing, he was at Harvard. He wanted to know if I wanted to split a room in N.C. for our mutual friend's wedding in May. I had to tell him that unfortunately, I did not want to because I had a date and that date was my special lady friend and for him to please not write some equation that would cause all the strings in my body to vibrate and thus making me pee my pants*.
He said okay.
She said, "I'm going to the beach."
I also am somewhat anxious and somewhat downtrodden with my house hunting results so far. I need a place for my dog (read fenced yard) and Bradizzle wants someplace to become a rock and roll star (read basement request) and I'm not finding jack right now. I did find a perfect place, but the poo-poo head that owns it won't let my dog come. I found another place, but it too has hitches. One is that it is unabailable until July 1 and the other being that it is out of digital cable range and so the only broadband is satellite (read a dave matthews song). On the plus side, it's out of town and on 16 acres of land. I mean woods, I mean awesomeness. The rent is cheap and it seemed pretty daggum nice on the outside. I'm still excited about it even though I'm sure it will fall through somehow.
Our cyrogens just showed up. 180 liters of LN2 (-195.8°C) and 160 liters of liquid He2 (−268.9°C). That means I gotta go. I'll leave you with a stupid link**.
* Chris is an evil mad scientist who is getting his Player hater Degree in some really whack physics like string theory or something like that. In short, just think of him as the emperor from Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, where he hits Skywalker (oh yeah, both of em) with the lightning from his fingers.
** http://jamster.com/s/jiw/html/affil
