2/10/07
Work had a moment of excitement. A Jack Russell terrier puppy barged into the office and ran directly at my desk. One girl shrieked in horror, several looked around as if a woman's shriek is an actual acknowledgement of imminent danger. I lowered my hand, got a fistful of puppy mouth and watched the little pup run back out into the hallway.
It never fucking ends. Now I'm using Thunderbird as my email client. After the recent unpleasantness with my computer in December I thought I had saved my Pegasus Mail and all associated folders with the appropriate emails.
Nope. One folder is over here and the rest is in the pmail folder. Frustrated, I avoided using heptapod.org's email on a regular basis. Now I can check it and stuff.
Still don't send attachments to heptapod.org, please send them to this email, plox.
I only have 90 legitimate emails since 12/27/06. Eight of those are forwarded shit.
What little I recall from last night's dream was disturbing. A guy really didn't like being male. His distaste for the three piece set was so great that he wanted to get reassignment surgery. No one would perform it for him so he took matters into his own hands.
We're not talking a kitchen knife, some bactine and rubber bands here. The guy removed everything from the top of the pelvis to the feet. When I found him, he was clutching the bottom of his abdomen and rolling around on the floor. I shook my head at him.
No one ever found the hips and legs. How the fuck does one lose those?
