I’m there

She’s Geeky (http://www.shesgeeky.org)
A Women’s Tech (un)conference
October 22-23 in Mountain View, CA.

This event is designed to bring together women from a range of technology-focused disciplines who self identify as geeky. Our goal is to support skill exchange and learning between women working in diverse fields and to create a space for networking and to talk about issues faced by women in technology.

I’m going because I’m hoping some of their smarts will rub off on me.   I don’t have anything I do particularly well, I just do a lot of different things.  Juggle the non-profit and keep things running.

Does every family have one?

The wind blew like crazy today and it rained tonight, cold and hard. Fall is definitely here. And very early for this neck of the woods.

I just got a letter from my wrecked sister in the nursing home. She loves the rain. She’s 3 years older than I am, and looks 30 years older from amphetimine abuse. No teeth left. Classic meth-mouth until she got dentures. She nearly died from amphetimines recently, courtesy of one of my old ex-friends, also an addict, sneaking some into the nursing home. Vick has MS, too, probably from years of chain smoking.
Not much left to this sister, really, sort of a strange but mildly Vicki-like shell on top of something unrecognizable. She still loves to receive boxes and to further this effort she has started writing letters now that she can write again. This one (click the link) made Bob and me howl last night when we read it. Maybe it was the vodka again. I’m SO sending her another box of DVDs.

The names on the bottom refer to a nice picture she sent.


Nature’s Twisty Designs

catface spider

Catface spider

Look at this amazing thing.  It’s about as big as your first thumb joint.  What you’re looking at is the spider’s rear end which really does look like a cat face, doesn’t it?  It came from my sister’s porch in Idaho.   T killed this one but K is growing some more.

Junior High Point

This discussion about missionaries [which I can’t even fucking find now] and the guy who answered the door nekkid reminded me of something that happened long ago in Junior High.  In Idaho Junior High = grades 7, 8, and 9. High school was 10, 11, and 12.

I was a smart, fat little toad in gradeschool and 7th grade. Then a miracle happened in the summer between 7th and 8th grade. I grew 4 inches, developed a waist and hips and even some pert little boobs. It was amazing. Puberty hit hard and fast for me, so when I went back to school in the fall, it was a whole new world.

Boys were suddenly very important and I went from being a shy fat little egghead to a, oh hell, I don’t know what I became. But I talked to boys, and flirted with them, led them around by their collective cocks (with a special penchant for teasing the Mormon boys) and was VERY forward and did all manner of things that “good” girls would not do. It was heady and invigorating.

I had a couple of friends, one of whom was as horny as I was all the time. We were shameless in our pursuit of power through pussy. I haven’t decided yet if I can tell some of the stories. It would be rather Cringe-making, I think.

Anyway, back to the nekkid missionary story and the point to this windy post: The guy who answered the door was in a band called the Dreamchildren. The Dreamchildren were the very zenith of cool around the area where I went to school.

The lead singer was named Cliff. He had long blonde wavy hair and was quite beautiful to my lusty little teenaged and hormonally saturated eyeballs. I wanted him.
One afternoon the Dreamchildren gave a free concert at the YWCA which was directly across the street from the high school and not far from the Junior high. I went over with friends, and we sat on the floor in the front row, no doubt reeking of girly pheromones. Cliff sang Pretty Woman, and at one point, bent down to me, lifted me by the hand and then kissed me on the lips during the song. It was surreal. I nearly passed out from the thrill. And it made for a vivid memory.

I married the drummer later but that’s a whole different story.

Quote O’ The Day

Safety isn’t something you can make with locks and security precautions.  It’s something you make with trust and care and everyone looking out for everyone else.

—From Daria on one the Linux lists I read


Urban Word of the Day

September 27, 2007: peasantvision

Television channels you get without a cable or satellite TV subscription.

I can’t afford digital cable, but I still get some good shows with the rabbit ears on peasantvision.


I had peasantvision for years – with a 13″ TV and I didn’t care. It kept me from sitting in front of the tube too much.   Now we have every channel and a big TV and my worst fears are realized … I watch TV WAY too much.  An hour every weeknight and more on the weekends.

And we still can’t catch up with our TIVO recordings.  I might have to ditch House.  He’s gotten a bit too formulaic anyway and “cute” to me.  I don’t love him like I once did.

Maybe it’s the vodka

Every once in a while we all produce floaters. Floaters are caused by increased levels of air and gas, such as methane, which make the stool less dense than usual. There are dozens more varieties of poo, and you would not believe how many people are secretly (or not so secretly) obsessed with their stool creations. X’s brother used to call him in to examine his works of art. Another friend happily remembered his personal best: a bowel movement that coiled around and poked its head out of the bowl like a cobra.

There is something about “dropping the kids off at the pool” that makes us all smile.

Now: That was obviously written by a male.
It made me laugh, but also grossed me out — one of my least fond memories of childhood was my father roping me in on a regular basis to admire his “works of art”. Gross. No wonder I’m so weird.

Dumb, but

it made me laugh 🙂

Man’s Trip To Walmart

You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house. Mowing the lawn, putting a new fence in, painting the living room, or whatever. You are hot and sweaty. Covered in grit or paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit, shorts with the hole in crotch, old t-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.

Right in the middle of this great home improvement project you realize you need to run to Wal-Mart to get something to help complete the job. Depending on your age you might do the following.

In your 20’s:

Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss, and put on clean clothes. Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout lane. You went to school with the pretty girl running the register.

In your 30’s:

Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else. Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it. Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister to someone you went to school with.

In your 40’s:

Stop what you are doing. Put a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts. Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brute Cologne is almost empty so you don’t want to waste any of it on a trip to Wal-Mart. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing running the register is your daughter’s age and you feel weird thinking she is spicy.

In your 50’s:

Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on, wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don’t want to get dirt in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and you swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat. The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it.Then you remember the hat you have on is from your buddy’s bait shop and it says, “I Got Worms”.

In your 60’s:

Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose off the dog crap off your shoes.The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50’s. You hope your underwear covers the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute but you don’t have your glasses on so you are not sure.

In your 70’s:

Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Wal-Mart until they have your prescriptions ready too. Don’t’ even notice the dog crap on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her grandfather.