day three hundred thirty-four(-ish).

 saturday spicy thai.

the governor of missouri.

hipster xmas.

i would like to bid on one space, please.

day three hundred thirty-one.

bender?

sometimes i like making lists just to cross things off.

make dinner
don't burn it 
unless you like it that way
which you don't
anymore




we're reviewing preservation grant proposals for archives class this week.
my report pretty much reads: "yeah, these sound okay i guess."

day two hundred seventy-five(-ish).

congratulations on receiving and properly operating your time machine.
it is now thursday, october 7th. i have some things to show you.

 oh good, a book on history will only provide informative passages.

i would like everyone to remember that this was published in 1991.
that is a mere 19 years ago.
19 years.
19.

(as always, click a picture to embiggen)

editorial board: "okay, let's first delve into some crazy predictions that people made and everyone can ponder why they made them because they are crazy and a little funny. okay?"

 "and since we learned so much, we will only make sound, logical, practical predictions for the future. anything outlandish will take place at least 100 years or more from now. certainly not 9 years. or even 19."

 uh-oh.

the part on clothing reminded me of this (which, by the way, is from the 1930s):

ooh, swish.

day one hundred ninety-two.

welcome to thursday, the new early saturday morning!

for beth's last night in town, we went to the guam liberation day party at the cannon house building to rub elbows (literally) with interns and snazzy staffers in a crowded fancy room. they had free drinks, food, music, shushing from important people, and loinclothed dancing. i forgot my memory card, but we did get these, which i turned into a table ornament:

a very DC way to wrap up her visit


i also finished my space book:

i think certain friends would enjoy it very much, especially since there are entire chapters devoted to such topics as: dogs, cubed food, vomit, gravity-free urine collection, and interstellar pooping (though generally not all of these things at the same time).

mary roach even cites a u of i animal sciences professor (in the feces chapter, naturally):

and since its a galley (uncorrected proof), the spelling suggests a bit of a classier beverage preference than most students living there are accustomed to:

day one hundred sixty-seven.

welcome to the mannequin museum
(there is a possibility that this is not its official name)

talkies

visual perspective sometimes = being poked in the neck

i went to a mall today (as opposed to the mall) to honor all of the fathers of the world by spending my own money.

day ninety-two.

rainy day.
someone next door is playing their guitar on the porch.
i wonder if it is the same person i heard throw up that one time (oh how i hope, i hope).