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6.25.2002


I am, I think, the busiest I've ever been in my life. I'm so busy, my appointments have appointments. (Has that joke ever worked?)

You should check out (you should enter!) the 20 Things Temporary Tattoo Design Contest over at 20things.org. 20things.org is my absolute favorite thing on the web (well, I still really like the banana dance flash animation, but I'm sure that will eventually pass). 20 Things is so elegant and fun and perfect. Anyway, I'm going to be helping judge the Tattoo Design Contest and even though it's been claimed that I can't be bought, you know where to send the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

In other news, I just got the banana Peanut Butter Jelly song restuck in my head.
..:.:11:29 PM:.:..


6.18.2002


I got a letter yesterday from WBUR, my local NPR station, asking me to give money. On the envelope, in big green letters, it says, "The Year When the News Really Mattered..."

This makes me wonder what my donation was supporting last year. I don't remember the envelope reading, "The Year When Scott Simon Snorted Coke Off Linda Wertheimer's Stomach..." but I'll admit that my memory's not that great.
..:.:12:20 PM:.:..


6.17.2002


I've driven the same commute to work for the last four years. About once a month, during some part of the drive, I get stuck behind a 1991 gray Ford Escort with a Starfleet Academy window decal. I can't explain this, but when I see that Escort it never fails to piss me off.
..:.:9:31 AM:.:..

6.13.2002


Part of my first night in Italy was spent waiting for a friend in the tourist-busy Piazza della Cisterna in San Gimignano. (We never did meet up that night - who knew how much I valued my cell phone?) While I was waiting, I had some food and wandered around a little. I didn't want to miss my friend if he showed up, so I mostly sat around. I watched every tourist take exactly the same picture (I didn't have my camera with me or I would have done the same). I looked on with interest when a German man with his wife and kids in tow yodelled "O Solo Mio" into the well at the center of the square (his wife didn't seem to mind). After I'd been there for about an hour and a half, a man came into view leading two of the biggest dogs (Irish wolfhounds) I'd ever seen. The shoulders of the dogs were easily three and a half feet off the ground.

I was bored waiting for my friend, so I followed the man and his dogs around for fifteen or twenty minutes. I now know how to say "Sweet holy mother, those dogs are big" in sixteen languages. Here's some advice for all you comparative linguists out there: Fuck the Rosetta Stone, get yourselves some Irish wolfhounds.
..:.:11:52 PM:.:..



mark@markand.com
aim: mdanderson45