Is a fuzzy martini a drink you can order in a bar, or is it only found on the internet?

This entry is just pure introspection so I can talk it all out, so you can just ignore it. There are two things that I need to figure out. The first is how not to dread going to work each morning. It isn't the job or the work that I dread, my attitude towards my job itself ranges from meh to rather enjoyable, it's the going to work. It's the 8 hours a day five days a week that I have to be in a specific place doing a specific thing and being presentable instead of sitting at home in my bathrobe playing computer games or sleeping or doing whatever else I want to do at that time. Every morning I think longingly of lying in bed listening to the rest of the world go to work followed by the world's most leisurely breakfast and doing nothing for several hours. Once I actually get to work I'm fine, but there's a slight element of dread in my morning routine every day, and I need to figure out how to get rid of it. I try to look forward to my next day off, but that's tough on the Monday of a five-day week, plus it's all too like high school. I don't want to spend the next 30-40 years looking towards the weekend. I need there to be a certain treat for myself once I get out of the house. It would be very helpful if I could feel like "YAY I get to ride the subway!" or something like that, like the way I look forward to work-related travel because I get to take the train and stay in a hotel, but I'm afraid the subway is just not that exciting. Unfortunately, since it's my work email address, I can't get a daily Calvin and Hobbes or something in my inbox.

The other problem is that I get grumpy at work when I'm not super-busy, and when I'm super-busy I get stressed, obviously. Stressed I can deal with, but I need to come up with a way not to fester in ennui and grumpiness when I only have one item in my inbox and it's due in three months. I guess the lesson is that I do need a certain amount of stress to motivate me. But the question is how to keep myself motivated when there is no stress, so I don't get depressed and stir-crazy staring at the blue walls. Haven't the foggiest clue how to do that. I guess talking stuff out didn't work.

They found Cecilia's body

Drop City by T. Coraghessan Boyle. First of all, don't pick this book if you read mainly on the train and in waiting rooms. There's full rear-view nudity on the cover, which isn't terribly explicit but does make it somewhat inappropriate for reading in public. I'm rather baffled as to why they chose to put nudity on the cover, because considering that one subplot is a hippie commune and the other subplot is a newlywed couple, there's less sex than one would expect.

The premise of this novel is a hippie commune relocates from California to Alaska, where they find themselves faced with the challenges of the natural environment and the backwoods-plaid-shirt-type area residents. Unfortunately it doesn't do as much as it could with such a promising premise. We're halfway through the novel before we head for Alaska, so there's a lot more character development than necessary, and a lot less action. While I have no objection to character development, in this case we simply don't need so many characters, or we don't need to know so much abuot them. The commune's neighbours accept them rather too quickly, and while all the challenges of living in the harsh Alaska environment are mentioned, they are more enumerated than made into plot points. The ending isn't really much of an ending, the story sort of just stops and we have no idea what happens to most of the characters, although there is some lovely schadenfreude on some of the more unpleasant characters.

Overall it's a decent read, but could have been done much better.

I'm tired.
My feet hurt.
Smells bother me today.
It's warmish outside.
I haven't felt more desperate to remove my makeup in months.
My glasses need adjusting.
It's colder in my office than it is outside, even though the thermostat says otherwise.
I have been reading very slowly lately.
I'm glad I have tomorrow off.

Because I'm too shy to join Sugarquill because everyone there is too smart and literary for me, here are some more thoughts from the Potterverse.

Lockhart must have a bigger, more important role in the upcoming books. Why? Every Defence Against the Dark Arts prof was very important in their own book and significant in the series as a whole, except for Lockhart. Quirrell introduced the threat of Voldemort. Lupin introduced us to Harry's father's generation, MWPP, and provided a vehicle for Sirius Black to be trusted and therefore for Harry to be hanging around the headquarter of the Order of the Phoenix. Crouch!Moody not only orchestrated the whole plot of GOF, but also enabled Harry to witness and be involved in the resurrection of Voldemort, and generally led to the dark tone of the series. Umbridge represented and enabled the Ministry's coverup of Voldemort's return and the resulting suppression of Harry, Dumbledore, the Order, et al.

But Lockhart didn't do anything. He was egotistical and inept, and unhelpful at appropriate times, but the plot of COS could easily have been carried out without him. And the fact that he had a cameo in OOTP shows that he was more than just comic relief. Besides, I refuse to believe that he was intended as comic relief because Wacky Character is the worst kind of comic relief and Ms. Rowling was able to include humour in all the other books without a Wacky Character. So what is Lockhart's Greater Purpose?

Some concepts that people need to understand before they write letters to the editor:

1. Being opposed to a particular action or policy of a particular nation or political organization, or even being opposed to every action or policy of a particular nation or political organization, is NOT the same as hate speech against the individuals or ethocultural groups represented by that particular nation or organization.

2. Disagreeing with the policies, attitudes or beliefs of a particular religion, not wanting to be evangalized to, or not incorporating a particular religion into every aspect of everything is NOT the same as wishing jihad upon all the adherents of that particular religion.

3. Sexism is NOT the same thing as sexual harrassment. Sometimes there is a difference of opinion, a disagreement, or a conflict between two parties of different genders, and it is neither sexism nor sexual harrassment. Sometimes gender has absolutely nothing to do with anything.

4. In Toronto, rental properties pay 2-3 times the property tax rate that homeowners do. The renters pay for this as part of their monthly rent instead of writing a bigass cheque once per year, but they do pay it.

5. Before you send your letter, take 30 seconds to see if any of your facts can be refuted by Google.

I was standing in line at the library. A lady with a small boy, maybe 3 or 4 years old, gets in line behind me. The little boy keeps bumping into the backs of my legs, so I try to move out of his way.

But then his mother said "Johnny,* stop punching that lady!"

"He's punching me?" I think, "How bizarre!" It felt like he was just bumping into the backs of my legs, or perhaps flailing an arm about. The so-called punching continues.

"Johnny," his mother says again, "Stop hitting that lady! Why do you keep hitting her?"

"I HATE HER!" is his answer.

I wonder what I did to make him so angry?

*not the real name

My ears are really red, but I can't feel anything wrong with them. I haven't been wearing headphones or talking on the phone (except for like 10 minutes this morning) anything involving ears. They aren't itchy or warm or uncomfortable or infected-feeling. WTF?

"It's not rocket science!"

Why rocket science? Surely rocket science can't be the hardest science! Something like nanobiotechnology or mapping the human genome must be harder!

Am I the only person who finds dress pants (like you'd wear to an office or as part of a suit) more comfortable than jeans?

The wine of the moment is Banrock Station Shiraz, but I've nothing to say about it. It's Shiraz. It looks like Shiraz, it smells like Shiraz, it tastes like Shiraz. It's between Merlot and Cab. Sauv., with a bit of a spicy zip.

However, while supplies last the LCBO is selling 1L for the price of 750mL, so that's a plus.

Want something fun to listen to? "Do You Miss Me?" by Lyne Tremblay.

Picture the Easter Bunny:

Is it a little hopping-around bunny like you'd find in a backyard or as someone's pet? Or is it a bipedal anthropomorphic cartoon rabbit? Is it male, female, or gender-non-specific? Is it wearing clothes, and if so what? Is it an adult rabbit, a child rabbit, or age-non-specific?

I was reading up on Asperger again today. If North America had been aware of it ten years earlier, and if my parents had noticed that something was wrong with me (they might have, I don't remember), I would have definitely been diagnosed with it around age 4. But I don't know if I could get a diagnosis now, because I can hide it. My public face comes through rote learning and imitating others and method acting, but it is impenetrable to anyone who doesn't see me in my private moments. A doctor diagnosing me would see me as a normal, well-adjusted, if somewhat shy, young woman who is sitting in the office rattling off the textbooks symptoms of AS. But it's all an act. Smile, eye contact, perfect handshake, nod of the head, eyebrow thing. Sit up straight, cross legs, smiley voice (a former co-worker answering the phone), articulate speech (grad student defending a thesis), those hand gestures practiced in front of the mirror. Can't think of anything to say? Lower eyes modestly, fold hands, shy and sweet (generic sheltered Victorian heroine). She's a bit shy, but she's wonderful once you get to know her.

Unfortunately, I've perfected my public face to the extent that I can't turn it off for a stranger long enough to get a diagnosis. Not that it matters, there's no treatment and it isn't a disability, but you can't quite go around saying you're Aspie based on self-diagnosis.

I never thought I had privacy issues. I mean, I keep my PIN numbers secret and lock my door and close my curtains and keep certain aspects of my private life private, but I've never objected to cameras in public places or hesitated to have personal conversations on a cordless phone and my real name is in my primary personal email address.

But today I found a privacy issue I never knew I had. It all started when I went to Second Cup. They had a promotion today where if you buy a maple latte they'd donate a dollar to Tree Canada. It's a good cause and I'd been wanting to try the maple latte, so I went to buy one today. But as I waited in line, I noticed that on the maple latte poster they'd put stickers with the names of all the people who'd bought a maple latte today and thus donated a dollar to Tree Canada. I didn't want my name on the poster! I felt shy about everyone in the world knowing I'd bought a maple latte! Why should my co-workers and every random passer-by get to know that I'd bought a maple latte there today? So I left without buying anything and went to another Second Cup that let me buy my latte anonymously.

(And the maple latte tastes like a latte, but not like maple).

Guide horses!

Best spam subject line ever: "Archdiocese disruptive"

Can a doctor be a nurse? Like are there things that nurses are trained to do that doctors aren't? Or could a doctor just take over a nurse's job no problem?