I mean, unsubstantiated reports of this sort of thing have been appearing for hundreds of years. People do sort of blow up. Spontaneously combust. You know.And there's your tangentially-related randomness for the day...
No. I don't.
-Max Headroom (original British version)
Though it reminds me that, yes, I can modify how this puppy looks. I don't have time to poke around in LJ's bowels at the moment, so it'll wait.
In other news:
* Book! My Amazon order of a copy of the first book of a certain LJ e-quaintence of mine arrived at my place today! Woo hoo! I have Matt words! Published Matt words! The first of many published Matt words!
I'm looking forward to this.
* So how much of Portland's twenty-something population has passed through the offices of Vesta? I ask because I found out today that my co-worker Keith spent about half a year at Vesta, probably at the same time I did. I find this funny. We both cracked each other up with stories about the place. (Now it's Tigard's twentysomethings who are getting subjected to that special Hell in its new office...)
* My pedometer lies.
I exaggerate. But I need to recalibrate it, 'cause it's been shorting me. The last few days, I'd get to the end of the day, look at the readout, subtract the previous day's total from today's (yes I'm that anal) and say "I had to have walked more than that." And, yep, it's not recording all of my steps. I haven't done the math, but it's at least 10% fewer than what I walk, maybe 15 or 20%. The counter says I've walked 7,000 steps; I probably walked 7,700 steps, 8,150 steps, 8,300 steps...something.
To keep myself from going nuts, I'll stop wearing it for a few days, do the resetting business soon, and just keep walking. I'm good at that.