Late Night Ramblings, 8-14
I don't like eating around my cats. They always stare at me with those "GIVE ME A BITE OR PET ME OR LEAVE MY HOUSE, DAMMIT!" eyes. I love them. I really do. But they scare me.
There's a picture or three of me out there somewhere now with my tie around my head and my collar popped. Interesting. Speaking of which, I wore a suit today for the first time in a long time. Pretty different from what I usually wear.
A job in journalism typically means the end of any type of social life. The busiest nights are Friday and Saturdays. Of course, given my history of sitting around watching tv on those nights, it would probably serve as a boost to my standing in the outside world.
I've started playing this online game called "Nation States." Basically, you have a country that can be named anything you want. Mine is The Confederation of South Aardvarkland. Everyday, you have an issue or two that will decide the fate of your country. Currently, mine is a liberal paradise, but I'm considering turning psycho (or George Bush) on it. I should also consider trying to lower my level of dorkdum.
Talking about the price of gas has turned into the new talking about the weather. In the elevator? "I can't believe how much I spent on gas today!" Out to lunch? "Can you believe the gas prices?!?" Want to talk to the person in the bathroom stall next to you? "I've got your $3.00 a gallon gas right here!"
Speaking of oil products, any society that bases its entire power supply on a non-renewable resource gets what it deserves. Not to be cryptic, but the next century is not going to be much fun. Gas prices are just the beginning. We're running out of oil. Fast. Honestly, I'd love to think some alternative fuel source is going to come along and save us, but it's impossible. For that to work, we would have had to begin researching in the early 1900s. To get a good, reliable alternative fuel source in the mainstream market would take nearly a century to get in place. Everything in our society is built upon oil. Plastics, food production, manufacturing and other industry equipment. Hell, we would need oil to produce the equipment needed to produce the alternative fuel source. It's not going to be fun and we're going to have to figure a way to survive.
That last one was a pretty big downer.
I have a little brother. His name is Philip. Philip is 21 years old. Everything I say, Philip responds with "your mom." Understand that I enjoy the occasional "your mom" joke. But when it gets to the point of where I say "this food smells" is rebutted with "your mom smells," I get confused. Maybe I shouldn't look too much into it, but he's insulting is own mom. Perhaps she does smell. I might just be immune to it, and he is desperately trying to get me to recognize that fact. I doubt it, though.
Philip is sitting 3:00 from me with his computer. I'm going to pester him now.