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(running New Zealand Standard Time, GMT +12, so i get my days before the rest of you slackers…)

Day three of my big adventure; doing family stuff in Palmerston North, catching up with my parents and grandmother, probably seeing old school friends and having flashbacks of exactly why i haven't spoken to them in years.

Catching the night train (i.e. traveling cheaply) home to Hamilton after my parents have competed in the `how many vegetables and other healthy foodstuffs can you stuff in your son when he comes to stay for 24 hours' competition.

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It's 1:30 am here. I just got back from a gig. I am not a happy camper. I was really looking forward to this gig to get my spirits up, but it didn't. I guess objectively it didn't suck too bad, but for me it was horrible. It was actually fine until the drummer wanted to play Donna Lee and the guitarist said he didn't want to play the head, because he'd screw it up. "No problem," I said, and promptly attempted to play it. Let me just mention that I know this piece inside and out, and can finger pick it and slap it at up-tempos. We played it quite mid-tempo, and I screwed it up like a professional fuck-up. And just as the crowd was really getting into the music and listening. Well, I just wanted to get the show over with then.

This was after yesterday's APALLING gig. I played with three not-so-good musicians, not to put too fine a point on it. The drummer couldn't even keep the beat. And it sounded the same when the keyboard player played solo and accompaniment. They were really amateurish.

I spoke to my dad today about yesterday's show, and he asked me why I played with them. I told him it's for the money. What can you do, it's really tough for a musician to get by. So he told me that if it's the money that matters, I should start working in the high-tech industry now (as opposed to when I finish studying). If not, I should play with people who won't bring down my reputation (though after today, I'll probably bring theirs down), and whom I don't enjoy playing with. He's so right. He's always right.

After the gig, thinking things can't get any worse, I got to my car, which has a new bump mark, with scratches included. My car now has 3 scratches on the left hand side, 2 on the right, 3 indentations in the right door, the new indentation in the front right wing, a canyon down the front of my hood (thanks to a reversing truck), and a missing spoiler, which some sick pervert took. What the hell can someone do with a spoiler? I saw none of these happen, so I will have to pay for the repairs, if I should ever wish to repair my car. But what's the point? It get smashed every bloody week.

Oh, my battery's all screwed up too. I have to play roulette with my car to see if it'll start or if I have to jump-start it.

I hope tomorrow sucks less.

Oh, I didn't notice. It's still September 23 on the E2 server. Well, there was already a writeup here, so I guess that's an excuse, though this really shouldn't happen.

Hold on... It's from the 21st???!!!! What the heck? There is no place on earth that is the 24th September when the E2 server is still on the 21st.
I think that's too much monkey business.

I spent most of the day thinking, sleeping, writing, etc. Here's what's been on my mind:

I spend hours of free time here at Everything, and yet I only know HTML. Sometimes I sew my own clothes -- one of my more successful attempts resulted in some red crushed velvet pants. I've been in band since sixth grade. I like school. I hate math. I'm too quiet, but my thoughts are too loud. I read too much. I'm too tall. My hair is well past my waist, I like purple eyeshadow, my eyes are so green that they shock people. Some people say my eyes look yellow, as if 'the sun is shining through your head.' People say I'm thin, the mirror says they lie. My ears are big. I love pancakes. I turn the music up too loud. I've got too many piercings. The tendons in my wrists stick out so far I can balance a spoon between them. My elbows are always cold, I don't eat anything made of cow, and I hate doctors. I play volleyball, I drive a Saturn my parents bought for me. I'm a senior in high school taking college sophomore classes. I speak French. I like snow. My boyfriend's name is Aaron; he's really tall. I take Prozac every morning.

Who the hell am I?

Is all that I just said me? I've been struggling with this for a while, but I think I've got the answers now.

I am a daughter, a friend, a sister. I'm smart, sometimes naïve, but usally aware. I'm a girl. I'm a survivor who has cheated death more times than my age can tell. And I'm tired, hungry, and lonely right now. That's about it, I guess. There's nothing else to me.

Today i have much to do... I have a 4-6 page paper due on wednesday. I have a large math midterm on thursday. And there are various other small tasks which need to be done (these tasks do include checking my e-mail and noding at E2). I also have to complete the little e-mail which i send out to my friends each week telling them what has happened to me during a week of my life at Cornell.
-side note - If anyone actually wants to be on this mailing, send something to tannor1@hotmail.com -end unrelated note-

The good news about today is that when i'm not doing work, there is little else to do but eat or sleep, two of my favorite activities. What more could you possibly ask for?

Oh, and its that time again... i'm gonna have to call my parents some time during the day.
I've been logged onto E2 for hours now and just can't work up either the energy or the heart to produce a decent node. I've been doing more reading here lately than anything else. Not that there's anything wrong with that... but I've noticed that some noders I respect are having a rough time. I want to reach out... express my concern... offer support if possible. Maybe it's just me, but nowadays it seems like compassion for a fellow human being is sometimes seen as being a tad intrusive. Sure, most of us are strangers and in many ways we all have our vulnerabilities. I'm not here to judge, gossip or make brownie points. I'm just a person who cares.

Peace to all, and to all a good node!

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Just some frozen pictures

Wake up
Feel a touch
Realisation sets in
frustration follows
sore throat, puffy eyes
someone stole my motivation

I must work
No food here? maybe lose weight
trip over clothing
why bother washing?

reconsider working. maybe chat instead?
No T-shirts clean. choose crap work one instead
dressing. Don't think about touches
smile as I remember yesterday
consider phoning for a lift to work. scratch that, need exercise
Startle the cats outside
wonder why all is monochrome
ignore the surly boy's stare
jump as the cars scream past
wonder why they need to go so fast at 10am on a Sunday
smile and nod at the joggers and the old people walking their dogs
Feel placebo echo through my head
walk faster to avoid the imminent rain
pain: deny it.
painkiller urge deny it

Get into work. Sit down. Log onto E2. Sigh just a little bit.

14:15 BST

Dialogue Box: "Please wait for the system to restart." Buttons in the box: "Retry" "Cancel" wtf??? Some coders really have a lot to learn about usability...

Sydney. Woke up and switched on the TV (it's become a reflex). On it was the Women's Marathon, which had started at 9 a.m. in North Sydney, crossed the Harbor Bridge and was now east of the city center. When I looked through binoculars eastwards along Park Street, I could see spectators at the Park-College Streets intersection; the last of the runners had just gone through, heading towards Oxford Street.

It was just after 10 a.m. They'd be circling the inner east and heading into the city soon, and would be going through a street a block south of where I'm staying. Did I really want to throw a coat over my pyjamas and go down to watch, bleary-eyed? Decided to stay in bed and just follow it on TV. Then, as the minutes passed, the part of my heart that belongs to my camera knew I'd never forgive myself: I leapt out of bed and threw on jeans and a nearby shirt and went out. The runners would come north up Elizabeth Street and turn west into Bathurst Street--this was the 25-km point of the route, and was lined with spectators. Japanese waving Japanese flags, Japanese banners, someone with a large Union Jack. A policeman with an Australian flag bandanna tucked into his belt. On Bathurst Street, between Castlereagh and George, were tables with bottles of liquid refreshment for the runners, set out under numbered signs.

I was in time--10 minutes later the familiar 5 or 6 helicopters were overheard and there was applause on Elizabeth Street. The first runners turned the corner and came towards us, real live Olympic athletes in action, tired and determined, following the painted blue line on the road surface that would take them to the Olympic Stadium way out in the west. After the blazing sun and heat, this part of the route was in the shade. One runner dropped out of the marathon here. Then someone who may have been a U.S. runner turned the corner towards us and slowed to a walk, the crowd thought she too had dropped out, but after a minute she speeded up again and we cheered her on her way. Being there to watch the women in this gruelling Olympic event somehow united all of us--from different countries and races, different parts of the city. We applauded all the runners as they came trotting by, exhausted, in ones and twos, several minutes separating them; parents urged their small children to clap; as a spectator remarked, it was finishing that mattered to them, not winning.

Volunteer race officials kept us back from the road and behind the restraining blue tape, they crouched in front of us, perusing their lists of marathon runners, keeping track of who had gone by; as the last of the runners came round the corner they blew whistles to alert their colleagues further on. Stayed to watch the very last runner, maybe 40 minutes after the first, followed by police cars and ambulances. Then the crowds broke through and swarmed over the street. Some people tore off bits of the blue tape as a souvenir. Traffic was let through. The race officials began dismantling the drinks tables, and gave away those bottles not used by the runners. The Men's Marathon comes by this way next Sunday.

In the afternoon I'd intended to go to Martin Place and have a look (though I can see it from my window) at the giant Australian medals tally that's on the front of the Westpac Bank skyscraper. Then perhaps to Darling Harbor to gaze disbelievingly at the sightseers there--after Olympic Park where the Stadium is, it's perhaps the most crowded part of Sydney. Instead, I spent 3 hours in the Pitt Street (open-air) Mall, where there's The Olympic Store. Outside it this afternoon was a store employee giving out free pins. Maybe they're not selling enough stuff. This guy didn't just give out pins though--there was a whole routine. He stood on a little stage outside the entrance with a microphone and hailed people as they went by, asking them where they came from. He was mainly looking to distribute his treasures to international visitors.

Very quickly a crowd gathered and he widened his act, teased the spectators, called U.S. visitors up to the stage and bribed them with pins to say that Sydney was the greatest city in the world. And he led us in that uniquely-Australian rallying cry of "Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oy oy oy!! Aussie! Oy! Aussie! Oy! Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oy oy oy!!!" We were more than eager, and several times this cheer rang lustily in the open air. He asked foreign visitors what the equivalent of "Oy oy oy!" was in their country (in Lebanon it's apparently "Yalla yalla yalla!") and we'd yell that too--also "Scotland Scotland Scotland! Och och och!" and "Greece Greece Greece! Ay ay ay!". He urged Australian and foreign spectators onto the stage to enact the marathon (running on the spot, wiping imaginary sweat from their foreheads); and to mime to the Australian national anthem as if they'd just received a gold medal--hand on heart, look up at the sky as if at the Australian flag being raised in the Stadium--as the audience waved their hands in the air and swayed from side to side. The prizes for all this were free pins.

It was funny and heartening: all kinds of people of all ages and nationalities coming together to lose their reserve, make fools of themselves for a moment, and cheer themselves hoarse. Of course, it was part of a performance by The Olympic Store to lure in more shoppers, but for 15 minutes every half-hour it brought visitors and Australians and Sydneysiders together in a very happy spectacle. Between wandering in and out of various store I watched 3 performances. It happens again tomorrow, starting at 4 p.m.

During the week I dragged myself away from Olympics-related events. Bought vintage American 70s/80s shirts for US$6 each from an upmarket department store in the city center--the last place I'd have expected to find them. On Thursday saw Supernova, on Saturday American Psycho, on Saturday Gossip. Gossip is, surprisingly, more interesting than American Psycho (which just seems like a Reader's Digest condensation of the book), but presents its ideas inarticulately. Irritating. Joshua Jackson's screen presence is similar to James Spader's--if they appeared together in a film they'd cancel each other out. Jackson on looks alone could play Nathan French in a movie.

"The new movie-length Jag--filmed right here in Sydney!" (trailer for a forthcoming episode)
"That absolutely blows my mind!...what can't this man do!!" (Australian commentator on Dutch swimmer Pieter van den Hoogenband)
"The President's 'plane, Air Force One, has been hijacked." (trailer for a forthcoming movie on TV)
"So one of us gets to die..." (a line from a Farscape episode)
"What do you want to be remembered for?" (from some commercial I can't remember)
"Can't Stop the Rock" used in a Mars bar commercial
"If we can keep the Olympic cauldron going, this [a stove] shouldn't be a problem" (from a commercial for EnergyAustralia)
"...my neighbors are the Smiths, the Wilsons, the Santorellis, the DaCostas...I ride in the front seat of taxis. I believe this [holds up item of seafood] is a prawn, not a shrimp...and that Down Under is on top. I believe Australia is the best address on earth, and that Australians brew the best beer on earth!!" (tongue-in-cheek commercial for Fosters lager)

It's 11.10 p.m. Fireworks at Farm Cove and searchlights all over the city sky.

September 9, 2000
September 12, 2000
September 14, 2000
September 15, 2000
September 18, 2000
September 29, 2000
September 30, 2000
October 1, 2000
October 2, 2000

WEEKEND ALMOST OVER: Visited IKEA on a reconnaisance mission for the move to the new apartment. Ended up with two large bags of remotely useful stuff (extension cords - because they were cheap as hell, coat hangers - lots of 'em and a blanket.) Rollo vs. the IKEA marketing dep.: 0-1.
Spent the rest of the day outside, playing guitar. Surprisingly warm weather and the strings no longer draw blood after excessive playing.

LITERARY ADVANCES: Finished Excession by Iain M. Banks. One of the better Culture novels, IMHO. Started reading Against a Dark Background.

HARDER! FASTER! Lots of work to be done this weekend. I'm getting more and more depressed about this project, and it looks like I've got a pretty harsh week coming up. Ugh. I'd rather be somewhere else...
Sent a mail that took me three hours to compose, and I'm not sure it will clarify things very much. Och, at least I will have the schedule for the upcoming week figured out. Lots of stuff that needs to be filled in. Two weeks until acceptance test and counting. And someone wonered if I knew anything about those hand terminals. Hand terminals!?! *panic*

TODAY'S SOUNDTRACK: P.J. Harvey - C'Mon Billy.


Sleep time: approximately 11 hours.
Wakeup time: 14:40
Most interesting thing learned today: Sunday is a verb.

Watched some TV. A really awful Australian children's programme was on about the future. The future was basically the same as the present, save for 12 year old children painting their faces with makeup, and the lack of food (though they all looked quite healthy past the makeup).

Had the usual breakfast (two peanut butter sandwhiches, two with liverwurst). There were exactly four normal slices of bread left. Which sucked, because the next bread would've tasted much better.

Played around on Everything a bit. Cast all my votes, no writeups. Spoke to a friend on IRC, but he was playing Tomb Raider 2. Another friend's IRC channel had been taken over by some polish people. For some reason I turned in to the bad guy, and the polish takeover-guy became the good guy.

Mum and dad got home (from where, I don't know) and the racket started again. Barking dogs, and such. I continued to play with my father's computer.

I have decided I want to read Alice in Wonderland. But that's going to be a bit of a problem, since I still have to read Lord of the Flies and Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Flies because I have to (school), and Lord of the Rings because I want to. But, of course, I will have to postpone reading the last half of Lord of the Rings, because Lord of the Flies has to be done in two weeks.

I really hate english and dutch class for that. They literally force you to read a number of books within a specified amount of time. I don't read much, but when I read, I want it at least to be a good book. I've been reading Lord of the Rings since April, and I still haven't finished it. But now I'll have to get several small, crappy, books to read (just read, not enjoy, think about, or in any other way slow down the process of reading).

And of course the fun really starts when discussing literature and poetry in school. This is something I feel is absolutely rediculous. A teacher stating "Well kids, the writer means this and that when he says so and so". I think that if the writer really meant that, he would have written down what he meant and not used freely interpretable metaphores.

I also decided to write day logs again. I stopped for a while because they were collecting too much votes, but I've decided to just ignore the stupid "sort by highest rep" option in the user search. And yes, the C!ing and reputation of one of my writeups about day logs helped too. I'm also going to try and keep track of how much sleep I get and interesting/amusing things I've learned, for no particular reason.

I had fried potato strips (or whatever you wish to call them) for dinner. For some reason I got kind of depressed afterwards. I still am, though writing this shite helps for some strange reason.

I got a long-overdue haircut today. As the stylist (this was done at the mall) starting clipping, I looked down at the fallen clumps of hair. A deep, dark copper red still, but I could see lighter hair in it. Silver.

At first this shocked me. I'm young, in my second year as an undergraduate. Do I want this?

I glance over at my friend Jon in the mirror. He has silver hairs too, has had for about a year. He's a year older than I am, and the silver adds a touch of class to his black.

Do I want to be old already?

After watching nearly everyone around me get piss drunk (and as a result inventing Xmas Schnapps), watching The Matrix and Fight Club for the seventh time (each), and fighting the Sandman until 6:04 am, I finally gave in, dragged my tired ass back to my room and fell asleep halfway in bed. I finally woke up at 4:03 pm to start a 1000 word essay for Minds and Machines class tomorrow. After spending an hour without even starting I went downstairs to the cafeteria with some of the people from the night/morning beforehand for a breakfast-lunch-dinner meal. Now I am back in my room, still trying to start the Minds and Machines essay and not being any more successful than before. Not only is someone trying to get me to watch Neo Genesis Evangelian but E2 is also acting as very good distraction. Hopefully I will be able to detach myself from E2 long enough to get SOMETHING done . . . .

From 12 midnight:
Hanging out with best friend P. Decide it's a good idea to get under her couch. P. is frightened and leaves to take cookies to mutual friend F. From under the couch, I can see scooby doo on tv and reach the candy basket, so I am doing fine. It occurs to me that if P's roomate M. comes home, the first thing she will see upon walking into the door is my grotesquely oversized feet sticking out from under the couch. She may or may not be unpleasantly suprised by this discovery. M. does not return but P. does and we go for a walk in the pouring rain. Yuk. I am soaking wet now and getting tired. I say goodbye and drive home. My contact lenses feel like they are trying to scrape off the insides of my eyelids.

4 hours of sleep and then off to church. Not a happy camper. Why do I keep coming here I ask myself. Somehow I got tricked into being in a small skit the drama team was doing. Nothing too bad. My lines are "I'm Joe.", "God knows", "Well the way I look at it, god already knows what I'm thinking so I'm not sure I understand what the purpose of prayer is. If god already knows what I'm going to say before I say it, why even bother saying it", and "AGGHHH GOD GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Like I said, not too bad - at least I get to play a skeptic. I channel my natural scepticism into the part. I feel very much like tossing in "I have no idea whether god even exists, and if (s)he does, I am sure (s)he is digusted by all your attempts to stick h(er/im) into a little box like some kind of pet or a magic genie at best!" I refrain from this diatribe.

Home again, I eat cold mushroom pizza and kraft "radioactive yellow" macaroni and cheese for lunch. I have no intentions of doing my homework today. I turn on the idiot box while eating. Ooooh, football. Having trouble thinking of a less valuable way to spend my time. Off, vile box.

Having slept for two hours, I am awakened by the five year old down the street pounding on my door. Bang Bang Bang for a full ten minutes. Go away Bradley, I am sleeping, don't like you and do not want to play. The phone rings now anyway. Home phone. I ignore it. Ok now the cell phone. Persistent bastards. Don't you know I am sleeping? "Hello." "Hi are you sleeping?" It's Buddy (not the dog next door, although he is also named Buddy: this is my ex whose real name is D. I call her Buddy). "I was." "Sorry." Buddy proceeds to tell me about how much fun she had last night at a dance club. Buddy never wanted to go dancing with me. Buddy danced with a bunch of guys and nearly got groped. Woo hoo. I tell Buddy I went walking in the rain last night. I definitely had a better time. Goodbye Buddy I am going back to sleep.

Double stuff oreos, coffee for dinner. Noded around for a bit. 7:53 now and I have to go watch "pi" the movie and probably "the matrix" by myself. I love Sundays.

So, I'm at my friend's birthday party. We're playing his cheap N64 games, and after a "rousing" game of Super Smash Brothers and (gak) Goldeneye, we play Perfect Dark. I like Perfect Dark. I don't usually play shoot 'em ups like it, but there's nothing more fun than the multiplayer battle mode. Scene: I'm playing as the receptionist, because everyone else got to be the main characters (Joanna, Trent, Cassandra). I grab a tranquilizer gun and set it to "Lethal Injection." No one else knows what that does, so I keep running up to people, jabbing them (thus, instantly killing them) and shrieking, "I'M NURSE RATCHET!" Many true funs. It's a sad thing that World History isn't as wacky fresh.

(Noded as soon as I got back from a four-day trip from Tampa to New York to be the best man in a wedding.)

To get back to Albany from the reception, I followed the father of the bride at high speed on a wet highway. On the way back I got to talk to Adam and Chrissy's other guest for the night, Anna. She taught me a bit of Icelandic at my request, and we had a nice conversation. We shortly discovered we'd been - okay, I'd been - following the wrong car. It wasn't a disaster, though, because it turned out to be the mother of the bride driving Adam and Chrissy to the hotel. She then led us back to the apartment, where we crashed. Anna crashed, actually, having an early flight to catch; I stayed up to write this paragraph.

Brunch at the official hotel was the first breakfast buffet I've seen in a long time that lacked grits. The mother of the bride said "Of course there's grits!", but she pointed me at a cauldron of cream of wheat. Blech.

We hung around and unwrapped a few presents, including a small self-contained artificial waterfall and a beautiful vase. I got to the airport in time to put myself on the bump list for a nearly full flight to Reagan. They nearly took me up on the offer, but I ended up commiserating with my seatmates, who were also hard-pressed to get comfortable. "We've replaced the brains of our airplane designers with new Folger's crystals," I joked. "Let's see if anyone can tell the difference."

"Le Petit Snack" was replaced by a packet of peanuts. I was almost afraid to eat them lest the seat feel any smaller.

The Reagan-Tampa leg promised to be just as bad - booked perfectly full but not overbooked. We used an A320 EOW, though, a plane I'd never been on. It had armrests that folded almost completely up, so I could lean forward a bit with my seat belt off - tsk, tsk - and occasionally feel slightly comfortable.

We were served boxed meals consisting of hermetically sealed ham and cheese mini-subs, Cheez-Its, a small Butterfinger knockoff called a Cadbury Crispy Crunch, and a sugar cookie from Cheryl & Co. I'd had their cookies before, a few years ago, in a thank-you basket from friends I'd driven two hours from a party to one's home at 1 AM when they were too drunk to talk straight - one reverting to her native Southern accent only under the influence - and too sick to not be in bed at home.

There were lots of Bucs fans talking about the Jets game - it was 17-6 Tampa near halftime, and we were eager for news of a victory. A mournful-loooking woman in her forties and her cups (having at least once filled her plastic cup to the brim with Southern Comfort, some of which went onto the tray table and the carpet) declared she didn't know why the flight attendant hadn't gotten the final score from the pilot, who was supposed to have somehow procured it from the tower. I suggested she call a friend on the AirFone ($1.99/minute) if she really couldn't wait, but she appeared to be unable to figure out how to complete a call.

As the flight attendant collected our trash, she mopped up the liquor and noticed the aroma emanating from seat 13C. I heard her mutter reproachfully to nobody in particular, "You're supposed to buy it from *me*..."

The punchline came as we walked onto the extensible hallway, where 13C was engaged in an animated conversation with an airport employee. "We LOST!? 21-17?"

...Back in my day...In THE WORLD OF THE FUTURE...

10:00 AM EST -- Mornings are out to kill me

That's the only thing about talking to someone for five hours straight last night, is that I need to get up at some point in time next morning. Not cool.

But, oh well. Today is another BLOODY FUN-FILLED DAY AT WORK SHOOT ME NOW!

11:00 PM EST -- I'm supposed to be the boss here

I come home from work (Wherein nothing ever happens) to find one of the communities I'm a regular member of has started a console war post in our local message board. Going on past experience with posts of this subject (And being an admin), I declare that I plan on closing off the post to avoid blood wars.

What happens next? Almost immediately, I get someone telling me that if the post hasn't caused trouble yet, it should stay open. I'm bleeding well starting to feel I can't do anything on that board without someone complaining to me.

It was an act of purest patience that allowed me to stay quiet when he compared my actions to racial profiling (My simple response was "Isn't that a little extreme?", and he agreed). Fortunately, I do believe we have worked out an agreement. Either that, or his connection has died out, and that's why he's not responding. Ah, well. The conversation ended on a happy note, at least. I THINK we agreed.


Plans soon for Exclaim Industries: Mebbe I'll start redrawing the entire comic series of The Adventures of Captain Spam so that it matches my current style and so I can rework most of it. Mebbe. And then I'll start with other, less haphazard drawings. Or my Perl scripting. Or something. Damn, I've got a lot to do.

I remember thinking it was high praise when Baron Carlos said my newbie nodes were 'sufficient'.

I remember when Saige nuked the user search page on E1.
I was scared of the Everything Smurfs for a long time after that.

I remember the day the Everything Finger got palsy and the alarm it raised among the noders was hilarious!
I'm logged in but I'm not on the Everything Finger
Everything Finger has palsy
Everything Finger is bigger than the node linked to all others
Everything Finger crashed netscape!
Everything Finger is going to explode

I remember the girls of #everything had a slumber party and bozon was bringing the cucumber slices for their eyes.
I wanted to be there too!

I remember when Hemos burned his house down (for the second time) and it was B.C. (Before Chatterbox).
There were some funny nodes about it, but I was really worried

I remember my first node that was put on the Page of Cool by knifegirl.
I was ecstatic for three days!

I remember when Asamoth was the only one who would chat with me.
It frightened me badly when he kavorked his nodes .

I remember tutting at nate when we could put up pics in our homenodes so he retook his picture...
just for me.

I remember when ailie became the Everything High SchoolCheerleader.
It was like we all cheered together! I remember being borged by nate for mentioning the
....well I can't tell you now can I?

I remember falling prey to the Sneaky Bastard when he flushed me out of hiding with his Our Weaknesses node!
..... and being crestfallen when BaronCarlos left, only to rejoice when ShadowLost returned.
Keep on Sneakin' Carlos.

I remember thinking sensei was a 14 year old girl.(he kept cheering 'yay for peanut butter!') and thinking dem bones and nate had fixed it somehow so she couldn't find her home node.
Incensed I /msgd all of her complaints to bones and there was plenty of confusion to go around.

I remember dem bones yelling at me in the chatterbox for messing up his website.
When I tried to explain he called me a 'LIAR!!!'.
I spent 2 hours and a long distance phone call downloading IE 5.01 so I could come back and node.

I remember wishing to be at the E2 meeting California so much that I mailed dem bones a Mickey Mouse lollipop and rose petals, then noded the lyrics to San Fransisco.

I remember finally gathering the courage up to look at jessicapierce's hot ass!

I remember that today I've been a noder for The Everything Development Company for a year.

Thanks for all the swell memories guys!

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