Paint Tomorrow Blue

The last piece of this pie.

Thermo-Bowl: Heated Dog Bowl

This idea seemed completely insane until I realized that it’s designed for outdoor dogs.  I’ve only ever had dogs who complained when the temperature in the house goes below about 60.

I have a bruise on my arm all of a sudden. I don’t remember where it came from.

Issues aside, if Palin gets any folksier I’m going to want to shove a corn cob down her throat. She makes George W. Bush sound like William F. Buckley.

This is a dog in a bee costume, posted to Cute Overload today:

Cute, whatever.  It wouldn’t have attracted my attention if this picture didn’t look EXACTLY like girl’s best friend, MAGGIE.  Observe:

Clearly SOMEONE HAS STOLEN MY DOG. And added some gray to her muzzle.  (She must take after me.)

It’s not like she hasn’t worn costumes before….

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My phone battery died while I was out today, and I didn’t get home until 10:00.  So after my phone charged, here’s a picture of my desk.  Left to right: Bottle of melatonin, computer, hamster food, glass of water.

Here are some empty ones.

I figured the season premiere of “Pushing Daisies” was as good a reason as any to invite over friends and serve pie.  So I did.  I bought a whole pie from Grandma’s, which I’ve always wanted to do but never had a good enough excuse to spend actual money on good pie.

Dutch Blueberry, delicious.

Three pictures that I liked today.

Two of my hamster Zach watching over me in his tower, and one of a tree in my neighborhood that changed color already.

I think I’ve been to this house before.

For no particular reason I’m reminded of a man who bought one of the camps near my family’s land.  He took a bag of cheese curls and nailed the back of it to the wall.  Instant cheese curl dispenser.

Martha Stewart, he was not.

I’m starting Project 365 today.  (Why September 29?  Well, why not?  I feel like it.)  This also happens to be post #1000 on this installation of Wordpress, even if it’s not my 1000th post.  Still don’t understand how that works.

Looking back at my previous posts labeled “moblog” as well as my older and more comprehensive archive of pretty much every picture I’ve ever taken with my cell phone, I’m reminded of moments, places, and haircuts that either slipped out of focus or that I’ve forgotten entirely. Even something as stupid as the pen machine at the DMV the last time I renewed my license.  Or my selection of delicious New Yorkish food from Eliot Spitzer’s inauguration (of course I went.)  Sure, there’s a reason that our brains clear these things out, but it’s still interesting to revisit them.

September 29: Scented pine cones at Jo-Ann Fabrics.  I was picking up supplies for a failed embroidery project.

I hate these pine cones, since they’re part of the Christmas marketing onslaught, but they did smell really, really nice, if a little fake.  This confused me, so I took a picture.

Holy crap!  Someone on the Internet found a picture of my senior prom date!

…my style.

I’m a very irreverent Catholic.  My friend is a Buddhist.

Me: they’re hosting a relics tour, apparently
Friend: oooh yeah they are, neat
Friend: http://www.albanyktc.org/calendar/view_entry.php?id=49&date=20081003
Me: at least y’all have the sense to cremate your holy people before hauling them around
Me: much more efficient.
Friend: Damn straight. Makes planes much easier to handle

As of this writing, I’m 42 (ha!) songs away from passing 50,000 tracks logged on last.fm.  This nice even number makes me want to back up and say, “why do I keep doing this?  Why is it interesting to me?”

Last.fm doesn’t just generate the pretty “last 10 songs listened to” cover art in the sidebar of this blog, after all.  It tracks everything that I listen to.  The logging is integrated with iTunes and my iPod, so any music that I listen to through iTunes goes into the database.  It’s funny, since when I’m listening to music anywhere else, such as my favorite radio station or a friend’s car, I’m sort of disappointed that last.fm isn’t tracking it.

The system also makes suggestions–I never would have started listening to Sufjan Stevens without the system looking over my musical tastes and suggesting him.  Sort of like listener’s advisory, I guess.

This strip sounds suspiciously like a conversation that might take place in my house.  With me as the target.  Ironic, considering my profession and how many books are strewn across my living room I own.

Except I’ve already read the Dirk Gently books.  Hm.