'quality'
I'd apoligize for lack of updates, but I was shielding you from the mundane details of my routine since there really hasn't been much worth mentioning. Put best: "Interesting... no wait, the other thing... tedious."
For your scrutiny, I formally submit my random thoughts throughout the week, as dutifully jotted into `notepad':
When filling out the questionaire for committing me, one needs look no further than my first waking thought of the day. The Halting Problem reminds me that I never know if I will wake up from sleep (further, "If I die before I wake..." is some sort of incantation for an escape continuation or process-monitor daemon). Like in modeling programs, since this problem is provably unsolvable, we always assume we will wake up and resume our lives.
* * * $6.40 to do my laundry, and it isn't even remotely dry... shit.
* * * Last night I watched the sequel to Bridget Jones' Diary (because they're my friends, and I'm dying for a little female attention). After, I watched A Dog Day Afternoon by myself, and somewhere around 2am hear a knock on the door. Two of my mates from flat three looking for a home since they locked themselves out and were piss drunk. I offered them some space to sleep, watched over them for about an hour, then mosey'd off to bed.
Today one of them came back to clean the vomit on the floor, and brought me a bottle of Australian wine (entirely not necessary! but appreciated; last time I feasted on this was with Artie, and we had a grand night of it) as thanks. I like that ;) If I got a bottle of wine for every head I've held over a toilet... Well, this is a rather ironic gift, of course; is it an invitation to get wasted too? Why not!
* * * It's been snowing heavily here (well, on and off) and when I got to class I looked like I was a snowman. I really need to learn to dress warmer for the day, but I hate carrying all that extra clothing when I'm not commuting.
* * *
Whisky Olympics the other night! A friend from the Water of Life Society came and we did a tasting. I really liked the 15 year Bowmore -- maritime flavors of salt and tar; very pirately. I hear the 12 year is even more lively.
Laphroaig (La-froyg) is a 10 year Islay whisky which tends to be loved or hated. Wonderful nose on it, but the taste of peat moss and seaweed was overbearing (to me) for sipping (I didn't dislike it, but I'd probably only drink it while watching a movie, etc.). Actually, the experience reminded of taste-testing a 9-volt battery to see if it's still good.
My mate offered me a flask with "QUALITY" etched in it. Unsuspecting, inside was a 25 year Dalwhinnie. Simply outstanding. Not much nose (probably due to its age... christ, older than me!), but a rich, complex body which changed as you tasted it, and had a delightful aftertaste. I couldn't fathom the cost, and fortunately I did not have to...
* * * Flogging Molly; April 21, 2005; Glasgow, Scotland. Do I dare?
For your scrutiny, I formally submit my random thoughts throughout the week, as dutifully jotted into `notepad':
When filling out the questionaire for committing me, one needs look no further than my first waking thought of the day. The Halting Problem reminds me that I never know if I will wake up from sleep (further, "If I die before I wake..." is some sort of incantation for an escape continuation or process-monitor daemon). Like in modeling programs, since this problem is provably unsolvable, we always assume we will wake up and resume our lives.
Today one of them came back to clean the vomit on the floor, and brought me a bottle of Australian wine (entirely not necessary! but appreciated; last time I feasted on this was with Artie, and we had a grand night of it) as thanks. I like that ;) If I got a bottle of wine for every head I've held over a toilet... Well, this is a rather ironic gift, of course; is it an invitation to get wasted too? Why not!
Whisky Olympics the other night! A friend from the Water of Life Society came and we did a tasting. I really liked the 15 year Bowmore -- maritime flavors of salt and tar; very pirately. I hear the 12 year is even more lively.
Laphroaig (La-froyg) is a 10 year Islay whisky which tends to be loved or hated. Wonderful nose on it, but the taste of peat moss and seaweed was overbearing (to me) for sipping (I didn't dislike it, but I'd probably only drink it while watching a movie, etc.). Actually, the experience reminded of taste-testing a 9-volt battery to see if it's still good.
My mate offered me a flask with "QUALITY" etched in it. Unsuspecting, inside was a 25 year Dalwhinnie. Simply outstanding. Not much nose (probably due to its age... christ, older than me!), but a rich, complex body which changed as you tasted it, and had a delightful aftertaste. I couldn't fathom the cost, and fortunately I did not have to...
1 Comments:
DARE. Dancing like a 6 yr. old = $10,000 worth of therapy. On Saturday I dried my tears, went out, and started a game of disco frisbee at a bar down the road. The fellas couldn't stop asking me out, but I'm in the South so it's up to you to get out there and answer the question as to what effect glory will have on the ladies.
-t
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