Have you seen these?
A Year in Books - 2009-12-27
Skip Tracer, Loan Detective - 2009-11-22
New Job - 2009-11-03
The coleslaw got served. - 2009-10-21
Probably a new job. But maybe not. - 2009-10-08

phone calls and clay
2002-06-06 9:11 a.m.

CJ called this morning. For some reason, he thought D. would be excited enough by a rocket launcher in a video game to merit a call at 8 in the morning. So, yeah, he knows D. pretty well.

What he didn't take into account is that D. can sleep through anything. If the alarm clock going off right next to his head for 20 minutes won't wake him, the phone in the living room really doesn't stand a chance.

I heard it. Every single time the phone rings at an unreasonable time, I think to myself, "This is why I have an answering machine." And every single time, the machine picks up, and then starts beeping. And then it beeps some more. And then it beeps some more. The answering machine will fully explore variations on the the beeping motif, for hours nonstop, if necessary, until someone goes over to it and plays the damn message.

I've tried reasoning with the answering machine. "Look," I say. "I was right in the next room. I already heard the message. Rocket Launchers. Got it. Thank you. Can we stop with the beeping now, please?" I've got a very stupid answering machine. Won't listen to common sense at all.

So I got up. I listened to the message. George saw that I was up, and began crying for breakfast. Then, for reasons not entirely clear to me, I took a shower. I was halfway through breakfast before I looked at a clock, and realized I really didn't have to be awake for another two hours.

Damn you, CJ! Damn you and your rocket launcher! And damn you George, for not knowing how to turn off the answering machine!

Feh. It really is too damn early.

***

There's Art in my oven right now. It's been there since 3pm yesterday. In the LARP, see, there's gonna be an art contest this weekend. D., playing the crazy blind guy, has made a sculpture. That's not even really the funny part.

D is apparently roleplaying out the clueless-about-art crazy person, all over my kitchen. The sculpture? It's fucking huge. And completely solid. Imagine a lump of clay, slightly smaller than your head, weighing maybe 15-20 pounds. This has been in my oven for 19 hours now.

If it were me, I would have read the box. I would have seen the suggestion that larger things should maybe be initially shaped in tinfoil, then covered with clay. That way, they only have to stay in the oven a half hour or so. But, well, John's blind, you see, so he maybe didn't notice that part. 19 hours, yo. I think it's almost done....



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