When you order things online, where are they delivered? Home or office? Well, maybe not, because some of the sellers require a signature when the package is delivered to the person who ordered it or to their ... their whatever you want to call someone who goes and picks up your crap for you. In my case, that's Per. :) So, your assistant has to go pick up your package at the post office, making sure they have the correct ID and that the post office is open! 

First, post boxes are introduced. Not the sort that you might first think of, not ones in post offices with a key, but ones in more publicly accessible spots like supermarkets or junctions in roads. Let's just call them package boxes going forward, as that's what they're called here anyhow. It's an easy solution, as you don't have to worry 
about post office hours or such, as you can just pick up your package when you go to the grocery store on your way home.

Elsewhere... Or elsewhen, if you will, a post office is closed down, because they aren't needed as much anymore, because email replaced a lot of bills and letters from the old style postage world and package boxes were now there for getting the crap you order online.

Well, hey, so people have to rely on the package boxes to get things they order; it's easy, right? It's presented as a simple change, for people to easily pick up their packages without worrying about post office open hours. Okay. No need for post offices, or at least all of them, so some are closed, or at least one of them. (Yes, 
more than one post office gets closed down, but I used only the one around here, so ...)

If you order stuff online or someone sends you gifts by post, you come to rely on these package boxes -- postmen won't leave things with neighbours or by doorways -- then, if they get filled up, where do you pick up your package? Don't know what to do when your local post office is now gone? Think of a 7-11 or some other bodega type of shop. They probably don't get anything from the fucking government that shut down post offices, but now they receive the packages for people to pick up from them, thereby having to act as the post office. Grrrrrrreat.

What's next?

Maybe this seems frivolous, but ... I don't know. Feh. Perhaps this is a reason for referring to the old things as 'pissed offices.'

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  • Current Mood: annoyed Wtf?


Other countries in Scandihoovia clip their grass, but Damnark beats it. Yes, a direct translation of the lawnmower from Damnish means 'grass-beating machine.' Yes, you might beat your meat, but Danes beat their grass. Yeah, think on that the next time you take a bite of a danish with your coffee, and a spit-take might happen! :D


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Just now, I had a story open on my iPad here, and Per had a quick peek shoulder:

(From here, though I don't have more time to fuck about with this now:

'Ah, yes,' he started. 'Water-bears or tardigrades.'

I replied, 'Yeah, but not Tardisgrades.'

Then I jumped down the page below that photo to find this:

'Tardigrades, at first glance, are intimidating. They have podgy faces with folds of flesh, a bit like a Doctor Who monster.'

Dammit. It could possibly be some sort of cognitive coincidence or whateverthefuck, but really! I hadn't seen that sentence before!

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Cat birthday present?

Okay, what would you give a cat for its birthday? Really.

Would you give it a canary? A parakeet? Really!  I mean, wouldn't your cat absolutely love it? Not something as large as a parrot, but something smaller and, one might say, daintier. Well, I'm certain that Moxie would adore it. No, no, no, no, not for taking care of it, but eating it. And, yeah, killing it, too.

Of course she'd kill the little gift bird! What else could one expect? We wouldn't give it to her roasted. No fun in that! She'd get it alive, in a small room, probably the bathroom. Yeah, for cleaning up afterwards, that would be the easiest room to hose down.

Well, she'd make a huge mess in any other room, so the bathroom would make the most sense. She needs to hone her hunting instincts, but she doesn't have any hope for her cleaning skills!

Okay... I'm laughing myself sick already. Okay. Okay!

So,  yeah, Moxie would loveloveLOVE to get a bird as a birthday present, that much is for sure.

But ... but ... how would you wrap it? Really. Cats are so SO f*cking helpful when you're wrapping Christmas presents that the cat ends up wearing all the cellotape that you'd tried to fix to the paper. Might as well wrap the bird in paper towels, or maybe in Christmas paper napkins.

I think I'm just going to bed now. Yeah, that would be best for all concerned.

(By the by, no, I'm not going to give Moxie a live bird. Really not.)

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  • Current Mood: amused sicksickSICK

Do my fingers sleep?

Yeah, apparently, my fingers do sleep, or at least they take longer to wake up than the rest of me does!

The other morning, I typed this on my iPad:

rrun sodewise around the toom yowling ss she goes


... and I've come back to it now, with more awake fingers:

run sideways around the room, yowling as she goes!

So, yeah, not only does gravity not affect the teeny-tiny tiger, but it ... ummmm ... it affects something else, too! :)
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What happened here ...

...might have been similar to the 'editing' of the Hollywood sign!

Okay, not exactly, but memory is what memory does...

...and the art student who did that back in 1976 received an A for effort! 
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  • Current Mood: amused ha!


Some of you may well have noticed that I changed my username hereabouts.

So, no more Miss Chili, as I can't even eat a jalapeño nowadays without ... well, let's just leave that there.

And I switched my username on LJ without checking to be sure the same was available here, too. So, one has an _ in it while the other doesn't, and I guess that's just one more indication of ... of ... bleah. I'm not lately given to saying anything nice at all about myself, so ... let's just leave that there, keeping the jalapeño company.

So, the time of year here is for lots of fireworks going off at random times of day, scaring the living sh!t out of The Cat, so if you need me, I'll just be offering her quiet comfort, or maybe she'll offer me same.

Still, I'm left wondering what happens to gale force winds when they dwindle down, as that might be a much better username for me anyway.

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Good tears!

Yes, there are different sorts of tears.

The ones that come of losing someone dear are not the good sort I refer to here. They could indeed be thought to be good because of the good, sweet although bitter memories evoked. Still and all, no, those aren't the ones I'm writing about here.

Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life

The original show was on from 2000 to 2007, following a woman and her daughter as they tried making their way through life in a way not paved over by the woman's parents. Yeah, that description is only a tidbit of a way to describe that show, all of its characters, all of their dealings with things in their own way.

But, yeah, I really liked the show, really did, in a way that I cannot even begin to type here about any more. And I missed it, and so did a lot of others, which was why they must have wanted to tie up any loose ends in making a fun and sad and funny and touching and wonderful last look at their lives.

The tears I was referring to earlier were the good sort, the ones you shed as you laugh and try wipe away the tears, not to mention the mascara from your eyelashes that you swear was supposed to be water-resistant if not waterproof (dammit!), and all the wonderful things on the screen just keep happening, so!

Quickie re-cap: Lorelai and Luke were finally, after 10 years together, going to get married, so they got all the stuff set up to have a church wedding so her mother would approve, but in the end, they called a justice of the peace, got their friends to help assemble a wondrous, amazingly beautiful wedding on the fly, one that fit into the characters or the series so beautifully well that I'm starting to tear up just remembering it now.

So, yeah. Fittingly, exuberantly beautiful!
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