I'm glad Alabama won the SEC championship. I was pleasantly surprised. I have talked some smack about McElroy, and I bet against Alabama because I thought that God would smile favorably on Tim Tebow and lead him to victory.
Adam and I attended the Dynetics Xmas party. There were some awkward silences and painful parlor game moments, but all in all, it was bearable. We sat at a table with some of the younger engineers and their wives. One guy made several comments about the girls at the table not understanding what the guys do for a living, and it was followed by general nods and snickering. Though it was true, it pissed me off, and I immediately prayed that the next bad parlor game would involve trivia. Then over the course of the dinner conversation, I smiled to myself thinking: "Ahhh, me. These gentlemen may know all about software, radars, and signals, etc., but not a single one of these wives work. Score one for the girls because these engineer bitches are being played."
Adam and I attended the Dynetics Xmas party. There were some awkward silences and painful parlor game moments, but all in all, it was bearable. We sat at a table with some of the younger engineers and their wives. One guy made several comments about the girls at the table not understanding what the guys do for a living, and it was followed by general nods and snickering. Though it was true, it pissed me off, and I immediately prayed that the next bad parlor game would involve trivia. Then over the course of the dinner conversation, I smiled to myself thinking: "Ahhh, me. These gentlemen may know all about software, radars, and signals, etc., but not a single one of these wives work. Score one for the girls because these engineer bitches are being played."
The inside of the house is now decorated, the tree is up, the outside is 90% decorated (the most we can do since the idiot contractor still hasn't finished the porch), i've made the first 3 batches of cookies, and we got our first christmas cards today. Ze holiday season, she is 'ere :)
"Ozymandias"
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I have had very little background in poetry and merely post what I find interesting. This means that I rarely pay attention to symbolism or rhyme scheme and have no interest in poetry I do not immediately understand. I see the value of struggling to understand something, but I do not care to do that. This being said, I'm unaware of this, but apparently I've been posting a lot of poetry lately with the same tone/mood/irony. Does this selection break that tone/mood/irony?
As always, if you have a suggestion for me to post, please email me at exceptindreamsATgmailDOTcom. Thank you.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I have had very little background in poetry and merely post what I find interesting. This means that I rarely pay attention to symbolism or rhyme scheme and have no interest in poetry I do not immediately understand. I see the value of struggling to understand something, but I do not care to do that. This being said, I'm unaware of this, but apparently I've been posting a lot of poetry lately with the same tone/mood/irony. Does this selection break that tone/mood/irony?
As always, if you have a suggestion for me to post, please email me at exceptindreamsATgmailDOTcom. Thank you.
I find it amusing that my June 2010 calendar now has most of its weekends planned, but this month is still highly fluid. Too many things to see and do, perhaps, at the moment? :-)
I came home to a handwritten letter from my mom.
I talked to my sister for the first time in years. She seemed relatively normal, at least as far as I could tell on the phone. Her reaction to mom's situation was much the same as my own: (1) What does she expect us to do? and (2) Is this for real? Oddly, my sister's voice is still the same, and her sense of humor is still, well, my sense of humor and my mom's sense of humor.
Noah and I surprised Dad before work yesterday. He was going in for some tests at the Madison Surgery Center, and Noah and I swung by the parking lot and left a feel-better note for him on the windshield of the car. Later, I talked to Dad about all this mom business, and he thinks I should stay out of it. Dad's take on it was more like "Where was she when you and your siblings needed her?" and "You reap what you sow." He also pointed out the practical expenses of even attemping to help her and how it would snowball into more than I might have initially considered. Dad, the realist.
It is still quite the quandary.
I talked to my sister for the first time in years. She seemed relatively normal, at least as far as I could tell on the phone. Her reaction to mom's situation was much the same as my own: (1) What does she expect us to do? and (2) Is this for real? Oddly, my sister's voice is still the same, and her sense of humor is still, well, my sense of humor and my mom's sense of humor.
Noah and I surprised Dad before work yesterday. He was going in for some tests at the Madison Surgery Center, and Noah and I swung by the parking lot and left a feel-better note for him on the windshield of the car. Later, I talked to Dad about all this mom business, and he thinks I should stay out of it. Dad's take on it was more like "Where was she when you and your siblings needed her?" and "You reap what you sow." He also pointed out the practical expenses of even attemping to help her and how it would snowball into more than I might have initially considered. Dad, the realist.
It is still quite the quandary.
"The Aliens"
Charles Bukowski
you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction or
distress.
they dress well, eat
well, sleep well.
they are contented with
their family
life.
they have moments of
grief
but all in all
they are undisturbed
and often feel
very good.
and when they die
it is an easy
death, usually in their
sleep.
you may not believe
it
but such people do
exist.
but i am not one of
them.
oh no, I am not one of them,
I am not even near
to being
one of
them.
but they
are there
and I am
here
Charles Bukowski
you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction or
distress.
they dress well, eat
well, sleep well.
they are contented with
their family
life.
they have moments of
grief
but all in all
they are undisturbed
and often feel
very good.
and when they die
it is an easy
death, usually in their
sleep.
you may not believe
it
but such people do
exist.
but i am not one of
them.
oh no, I am not one of them,
I am not even near
to being
one of
them.
but they
are there
and I am
here
LiveJournal: The First Decade
Just in time for holiday shopping, we're thrilled to announce the release of our ten-year anniversary anthology. Published by Blurb.com, the book showcases a decade of extraordinary talent drawn from LiveJournal users around the world. This must-read compilation features stories, memes, photos, comics, editorials, graphic content, and more, including:
-
Excerpts from Oh No They Didn't (a/k/a
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
ohnotheydidnt), the largest community on LiveJournal, covering celebrity gossip, entertainment news, and pop culture - A look at post-Katrina New Orleans from the journal of Poppy Z. Brite
- Gripping narratives, including a poignant reverie on a blind date
- Photography that spans the globe, ranging from old-fashioned Polaroids to underwater photography
- Mouthwatering dishes from food_porn
What began as a late-night inspiration back in Brad Fitzpatrick's college dorm in 1999 has grown to encompass nearly 25 million users worldwide, with journals and communities covering every conceivable hobby, passion, and topic. To get your copy, please visit the Blurb Bookstore. For updates and entries from book contributors, please join lj_turns10.
Tweaks and enhancements
- You can now ban a user from all of your communities and journals at once. To access this feature, hover over the person's userpic and choose Ban user everywhere from the drop-down menu.
- Follow LiveJournal on Twitter!
Give a little to help a lot!
In honor of National AIDS Awareness month, we've added a new charitable vgift. For each red ribbon you purchase for $2.99, we'll donate 100 percent of gross proceeds to IAVI.org (the International AIDS Vaccine Initiative) to support the development and global distribution of an affordable HIV vaccine (we'll cover credit card fees). You can read more about IAVI at lj_cares. While we're on the subject, we raised $740 from our November fundraiser for Love Without Boundaries, which supports emergency healthcare and adoption of Chinese orphans. We thank you for helping us help others.
Photos of the week
We're back with more incredible pictures from our super-talented LiveJournal photographers. Congratulations to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
ilya_gorokhov, who is the winner of our very first lj_photophile poll.
Curtains
Thanks, again, for joining us. Stay safe and snug out there!
There is fact and there is fiction.
In the fiction portion of this telling I hacked my way, machete at the ready, through the jungles in Sumatra in search of the famed civet coffee. I called upon my tracking skills, learned while negotiating the dense forests of the Long Island of my youth, to locate a colony of civets and then spent a few nights hiding out in a coffee plantation waiting for them to come out and gorge themselves on the coffee fruit so I could in turn gorge myself on their crap.
In the fiction of the tale I spent hours crawling around on all fours, my head lamp flickering as the batteries slowly began to die, probing the ground for recent scat. Not having a rubber glove handy I decided to go native and just plunge my hand into the fresh, still steaming, poo and began to separate out the partially digested beans from the fully digested fecal matter. The feces I left on the ground, the precious beans were quickly secreted in my pocket to await further processing.
An example of civet scat. This is the source of the famed civet coffee
Reveling in the fiction I dodged angry plantation workers when they discovered me in their fields running off with their poo-gold. I dashed through the fields, slalhoming my way through coffee bushes and startling the wildlife, not accostumed to so much activity during their noctural travails. I narrowly escaped, the beans still safe in my pocket, and when I got back to my hotel I started to clean, roast and then grind the beans. The resulting drink was delicious, it's flavors partly informed by all the work I put into it, the other hints were from the bowels of the lovely civet.
The fact is never as good as the fiction, of course.
The fact is that I located a coffee house, via Lonely Planet, in Yogykarta that had a good reputation and so I decided to check it out. I walked about an hour to get to the area where it was located. And it's true the walk was arduous -- my shirt became liquid as it absorbed and finally became saturated by my sweat -- and I did have to dodge vendors and the regular chorus of becak drivers all chirping in unison "transport?". But my life was never really in danger.
Reluctantly relying on facts it's important to point out that I never came across the coffee house I originally sought out. Instead I came across a place named "civet coffee" and figured it would have to do. I mean, the place names itself off of the famed brew. Surely they would have it and surely it would be the good stuff and surely the only threat I might face would come from a lowly paid barista.
It was all quite easy. I looked over the menu, just glancing at the prices until I came across the highest one and told the barista that that is what I wanted. He went off to prepare the brew and I could hear him working on the side but I chose not to watch him. I wanted to keep some of the mystery alive. Watching him dip into a pot of beans would just totally ruin my vision of him reaching into a pot of poo and plucking the beans himself.
In a few minutes he brought it over, delicately placing the french press in front of me and reminding me to wait 3 minutes before I press it down. I counted the time in my head. I wanted to make sure I was exact with the preparation lest my eagerness ruin what would be, for me, the most expensive cup of coffee I had ever purchased.
I swished some saliva around my mouth before I took the first sip. I wanted to make sure my mouth was clean and I didn't have any lunch leftovers lingering in the the far corners of my mouth that might ruin some of the coffee flavoring. As the coffee rushed out of the cup, slipped over my lips and into my mouth I tried to remember it all. I tried to savor it. I swished around like wine, I let it linger my mouth before swallowing. I tried all the things I thought one was supposed to do with something "fine" but no matter what my taste buds couldn't measure anything other than generic coffee.
The famed, prized civet poo coffee tasted.... like coffee. Ahh those messy facts.
A few weeks later I had a chance to try the civet coffee again at a plantation where they produce it. And it tasted pretty good. I had a glass of regular coffee as well so I could compare the two and there was a difference. But I still can't say whether or not the difference was good. I am not much of a coffee drinker to begin with so I can't really compare it to anything.
The exciting thing about the coffee planation is that I got to see a bunch of the civets. They were in cages. Sleeping, or trying to sleep, while the tourists gawked at them. I felt a bit sad for the civets, like they were being used to nefarious ends, the living example of marketing gone astray. I still took a picture. I could just imagine these poor little guys penned up like chickens, an assembly line of civets, being force fed fruit all day while workers scrambled for their poo. The sad thing is that this vision probably resembles reality.
It's nice to know the ass where your coffee came from.
In the end the fiction of Kopi Lowak is much better than the fact. It's a drink that is best drunk with the story. You need to know where it came from, how it was produced to truly appreciate it. And even then you are enjoying the story not necessarily the fact. And the fact is that it all tastes like coffee.
Of course it didn't stop me from buying 70 dollars worth of the stuff as gifts.
In the fiction portion of this telling I hacked my way, machete at the ready, through the jungles in Sumatra in search of the famed civet coffee. I called upon my tracking skills, learned while negotiating the dense forests of the Long Island of my youth, to locate a colony of civets and then spent a few nights hiding out in a coffee plantation waiting for them to come out and gorge themselves on the coffee fruit so I could in turn gorge myself on their crap.
In the fiction of the tale I spent hours crawling around on all fours, my head lamp flickering as the batteries slowly began to die, probing the ground for recent scat. Not having a rubber glove handy I decided to go native and just plunge my hand into the fresh, still steaming, poo and began to separate out the partially digested beans from the fully digested fecal matter. The feces I left on the ground, the precious beans were quickly secreted in my pocket to await further processing.
An example of civet scat. This is the source of the famed civet coffee
Reveling in the fiction I dodged angry plantation workers when they discovered me in their fields running off with their poo-gold. I dashed through the fields, slalhoming my way through coffee bushes and startling the wildlife, not accostumed to so much activity during their noctural travails. I narrowly escaped, the beans still safe in my pocket, and when I got back to my hotel I started to clean, roast and then grind the beans. The resulting drink was delicious, it's flavors partly informed by all the work I put into it, the other hints were from the bowels of the lovely civet.
The fact is never as good as the fiction, of course.
The fact is that I located a coffee house, via Lonely Planet, in Yogykarta that had a good reputation and so I decided to check it out. I walked about an hour to get to the area where it was located. And it's true the walk was arduous -- my shirt became liquid as it absorbed and finally became saturated by my sweat -- and I did have to dodge vendors and the regular chorus of becak drivers all chirping in unison "transport?". But my life was never really in danger.
Reluctantly relying on facts it's important to point out that I never came across the coffee house I originally sought out. Instead I came across a place named "civet coffee" and figured it would have to do. I mean, the place names itself off of the famed brew. Surely they would have it and surely it would be the good stuff and surely the only threat I might face would come from a lowly paid barista.
It was all quite easy. I looked over the menu, just glancing at the prices until I came across the highest one and told the barista that that is what I wanted. He went off to prepare the brew and I could hear him working on the side but I chose not to watch him. I wanted to keep some of the mystery alive. Watching him dip into a pot of beans would just totally ruin my vision of him reaching into a pot of poo and plucking the beans himself.
In a few minutes he brought it over, delicately placing the french press in front of me and reminding me to wait 3 minutes before I press it down. I counted the time in my head. I wanted to make sure I was exact with the preparation lest my eagerness ruin what would be, for me, the most expensive cup of coffee I had ever purchased.
I swished some saliva around my mouth before I took the first sip. I wanted to make sure my mouth was clean and I didn't have any lunch leftovers lingering in the the far corners of my mouth that might ruin some of the coffee flavoring. As the coffee rushed out of the cup, slipped over my lips and into my mouth I tried to remember it all. I tried to savor it. I swished around like wine, I let it linger my mouth before swallowing. I tried all the things I thought one was supposed to do with something "fine" but no matter what my taste buds couldn't measure anything other than generic coffee.
The famed, prized civet poo coffee tasted.... like coffee. Ahh those messy facts.
A few weeks later I had a chance to try the civet coffee again at a plantation where they produce it. And it tasted pretty good. I had a glass of regular coffee as well so I could compare the two and there was a difference. But I still can't say whether or not the difference was good. I am not much of a coffee drinker to begin with so I can't really compare it to anything.
The exciting thing about the coffee planation is that I got to see a bunch of the civets. They were in cages. Sleeping, or trying to sleep, while the tourists gawked at them. I felt a bit sad for the civets, like they were being used to nefarious ends, the living example of marketing gone astray. I still took a picture. I could just imagine these poor little guys penned up like chickens, an assembly line of civets, being force fed fruit all day while workers scrambled for their poo. The sad thing is that this vision probably resembles reality.
It's nice to know the ass where your coffee came from.
In the end the fiction of Kopi Lowak is much better than the fact. It's a drink that is best drunk with the story. You need to know where it came from, how it was produced to truly appreciate it. And even then you are enjoying the story not necessarily the fact. And the fact is that it all tastes like coffee.
Of course it didn't stop me from buying 70 dollars worth of the stuff as gifts.
Within a few minutes of meeting a new traveler an inevitable question gets asked: "when are you going home?" I have been answering this question, rather absentmindedly, with a simple "Dec 18th" before moving along to the next standard traveler small talk question. That is the date I arrive back in NY. But a few days ago I realized something. That's not the real day I arrive "home."
Home has become a bit hard to define lately. I was born and spent most of my life in NY but I really can't call it home. I have a storage locker there, friends I don't keep in touch with and a sister who I don't talk to nearly enough. My parents have tossed their house and moved to SC. I will be in NY for 4 days. 4 days before I pack up the car and drive 13 hours down to SC. Surely 4 days in one place can't be considered "being home".
I'll be down in SC for about 5-6 days before leaving there. THen it will be off to Denver for a few days before I get ready to head back to Antarctica. Once there I will finally fully unpack and not have to worry about moving or traveling again for 10 months. In a strange sort of ways Antarctica has become my home. When it is all said and done I would have spent almost 2 years of my life down there. That just seems crazy.
But the ice can't be considered a home. It's transitory. It's temporary. Any attachments are foolhardy as there is never a guarantee that you can return. Plus it's really hard to describe it as home to someone who doesn't speak english well. Sometimes it's even tough to describe to a native speaker/
I also, while on a long crazy bus ride, came to the realization that since the day I left the ice to the day I get back on the ice the longest I would have spent in one place has been 9 days. And that was back in October when I first got to NZ. In this time I will also have taken a total of 27 flights. 2 1/2 months involving 27 trips to an airport, 27 times going through security, 27 times packing up all of my crap. What kind of life am I living?
Home has become a bit hard to define lately. I was born and spent most of my life in NY but I really can't call it home. I have a storage locker there, friends I don't keep in touch with and a sister who I don't talk to nearly enough. My parents have tossed their house and moved to SC. I will be in NY for 4 days. 4 days before I pack up the car and drive 13 hours down to SC. Surely 4 days in one place can't be considered "being home".
I'll be down in SC for about 5-6 days before leaving there. THen it will be off to Denver for a few days before I get ready to head back to Antarctica. Once there I will finally fully unpack and not have to worry about moving or traveling again for 10 months. In a strange sort of ways Antarctica has become my home. When it is all said and done I would have spent almost 2 years of my life down there. That just seems crazy.
But the ice can't be considered a home. It's transitory. It's temporary. Any attachments are foolhardy as there is never a guarantee that you can return. Plus it's really hard to describe it as home to someone who doesn't speak english well. Sometimes it's even tough to describe to a native speaker/
I also, while on a long crazy bus ride, came to the realization that since the day I left the ice to the day I get back on the ice the longest I would have spent in one place has been 9 days. And that was back in October when I first got to NZ. In this time I will also have taken a total of 27 flights. 2 1/2 months involving 27 trips to an airport, 27 times going through security, 27 times packing up all of my crap. What kind of life am I living?
"The Spirit Says, You Are Nothing"
Larry Levis
But you were young, and you had
Plenty of time:
Going west,
You slept on the train and did not smile.
Under you the plains widened, turned silver.
You slept with your mouth open.
You were nothing,
You were snow falling through the ribs
Of the dead.
You were all I had
Larry Levis
But you were young, and you had
Plenty of time:
Going west,
You slept on the train and did not smile.
Under you the plains widened, turned silver.
You slept with your mouth open.
You were nothing,
You were snow falling through the ribs
Of the dead.
You were all I had
- Music:Break Your Knees - Flyleaf
- Mood:
sleepy - Music:Again - Flyleaf
Happiness is...making Aslan jokes.
[domesticat.net] Discothèque: the plan becomes clear: http://ping.fm/lcJAL (has colorful quilt photos!)
Originally published at domesticat.net. Please leave any comments there.
I'm far enough along on Discothèque that two photos placed side-by-side give you an idea of what I'm attempting to do. The plan is to have six columns of color, with each column fading from
to
Missing: the red-orange column and the black-and-white column. The bonus? Cutting out the background pieces for a Drunkard's Path pattern means you end up with smaller pie-shaped pieces that can be used for another quilt. I'm thinking that one will look very different: brightly colored circles floating on a neutral (white?) background.
Discothèque doesn't know it yet, but she's going to have a baby sister. No idea what to name it, though. Ideas, anyone?
**EDIT Thu Dec 3 23:24:15 UTC 2009 **
Hey Everyone, we are about to run the last alter job that we need to on our database servers. This will effect userpics / scrapbook / vgift images for the next few hours. Have no fear, your images aren't lost, there is just a really intensive process running on the servers which store the information for mogilefs. Thank you for your understanding and all the LJ love...
Hey LJers,
I just wanted to let you all know that we are going to be performing some mogilefs maintenance over the next few days. We will be upgrading our current version to latest stable as well as changing some db config information to better handle the amount of files we are currently hosting. This shouldn't cause a big impact on site stability, but you may see some minor delays with userpic / scrapbook images appearing or other requests associated with our mogilefs. We would love to not have that happen, but unfortunately with some of the steps we need to take we have to cause a delay with images. I figured this was a better solution than taking down all of LiveJournal because well lets face it, we all need our daily LJ fix ;)
Thanks,
Hey Everyone, we are about to run the last alter job that we need to on our database servers. This will effect userpics / scrapbook / vgift images for the next few hours. Have no fear, your images aren't lost, there is just a really intensive process running on the servers which store the information for mogilefs. Thank you for your understanding and all the LJ love...
Hey LJers,
I just wanted to let you all know that we are going to be performing some mogilefs maintenance over the next few days. We will be upgrading our current version to latest stable as well as changing some db config information to better handle the amount of files we are currently hosting. This shouldn't cause a big impact on site stability, but you may see some minor delays with userpic / scrapbook images appearing or other requests associated with our mogilefs. We would love to not have that happen, but unfortunately with some of the steps we need to take we have to cause a delay with images. I figured this was a better solution than taking down all of LiveJournal because well lets face it, we all need our daily LJ fix ;)
Thanks,
- Location:Jumping out of a perfectly good plane
- Mood:
dirty - Music:Bad Religion - Stranger Than Fiction
As the world turns, I figured I may as well write an update. Since not much new things keep happening, it is hard to find stuff to write about.
SCHOOL: Is going well. I keep doing well on tests and it feels like I got things under control. I am doing a little bit less than optimal, but I know that when I need to, I can increase my study time greatly.
I am likely to need to do that since I am taking 20 credits next semester. I need 12 credits to keep getting financial aid from my government, so 20 is a fair amount. However, I can also, if needed, drop out from one class and thus end up with 17 credits. More than the average student does, but I did it this semester and its worked.
GYM: I keep it up. On average I am hitting the gym 4-5 times a week and it has had a solid impact. I am wider over the shoulders, muscles are more defined and I simply have a feeling of being stronger and faster.
KNEE: Its getting better. I am going to the local practice on Thursday, with the intent to fight. If my knee holds up for it (which i think it will), it means that I can actually go to events here and fight 100%, not 70-80% like I have had to do so far. :D
OVERALL: As the semester draws to an end, money is off course starting to get tight. Its not that I have spent a lot, its more "setting up" which has had some costs. Next payment is due sometime in January and I should be good until then. After that I will not have the setting up costs and it should work out fine. The goal is to save as much as possible for the summer and visit Sweden and England.
SCHOOL: Is going well. I keep doing well on tests and it feels like I got things under control. I am doing a little bit less than optimal, but I know that when I need to, I can increase my study time greatly.
I am likely to need to do that since I am taking 20 credits next semester. I need 12 credits to keep getting financial aid from my government, so 20 is a fair amount. However, I can also, if needed, drop out from one class and thus end up with 17 credits. More than the average student does, but I did it this semester and its worked.
GYM: I keep it up. On average I am hitting the gym 4-5 times a week and it has had a solid impact. I am wider over the shoulders, muscles are more defined and I simply have a feeling of being stronger and faster.
KNEE: Its getting better. I am going to the local practice on Thursday, with the intent to fight. If my knee holds up for it (which i think it will), it means that I can actually go to events here and fight 100%, not 70-80% like I have had to do so far. :D
OVERALL: As the semester draws to an end, money is off course starting to get tight. Its not that I have spent a lot, its more "setting up" which has had some costs. Next payment is due sometime in January and I should be good until then. After that I will not have the setting up costs and it should work out fine. The goal is to save as much as possible for the summer and visit Sweden and England.
Happy birthday Sooper!
i will always remember chris brown for his amazing 2007 performance here on the MTV awards. everyone was saying "this kid is the next micheal jackson!"
First batch of xmas cookies done!
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- lj_maintenance :: mhwest : MogileFS Maintenance [+119]
- marcusstendahl : (no subject) [+0]
- lysystratae : (no subject) [+0]
- oh_oh_sheila : (no subject) [+1]
- lysystratae : (no subject) [+0]