May 19th, 2005

wombat

The next picture in this sequence...

While contemplating today's wallpaper, the last line from David Drake's "But Loyal To His Own" floated into my mind:

Surely [her] wrists were too slim, Tromp thought, to raise the heavy pistol so quickly.

Update: I find myself wondering what "Steuben, J." would look like in hiragana, but the commander of the White Mice was a prettyboy, not a transvestite.
dead wombat

This cookie sucks.

I suppose this is some kind of karmic payback for getting over at lunch today, or would be if I believed in karma. (I think my dogma ate it.) Once a month our department gets together for lunch and usually orders out, and being the anti-social loner I am, I usually miss out on these things. This month, though, lunch was coming from Chipotle, and since I revere the burrito over almost any other form of semi-fast food, I was careful to get my order in on time and have the cash on hand to cover it, only to find that my boss had picked up the tab for her entire section. Hurray!

Anyhow, while purchasing the creamy creamy cheesy goodness of the breakfast pastry this morning from the St. A**** Bakery stand on the Mall (this being the day of the Farmer's Market), I also impulsively picked up a molasses cookie, which I began eating while reading this account of the Holy Chocolate Chip Cookie. OMG, what a mistake. This cookie was hard and dry, the complete antithesis of a good cookie, and a complete ripoff at $1.50.

Now my teeth are sore. Damn those bakers.
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