There is something particularly thrilling about stuffing connectors in a hub and, for the first time, starting up two computers at home. And having them run, connect, etc. I know a lot of people have rooms filled with computers, but I've always considered myself a Geek Lite, happy with just one, never needing to tinker much. Firing up my soon-to-be server makes me feel...serious. Cool.

Okay, I'm a teensy bit excited. Paul Mercurio Online was chosen as a Daily Pick for Yahoo! Australia. Since the link is only good for a day, I took a screenshot for posterity. Woo! Hoo!

What a fun idea. I'll give it a try, but I don't remember much:



1999


That was pretty damned fun. Mayor Vera had a big "millenium" party in the Square, and I went down with Dave and Megan and we ran around taking pics of strangers all night. It was packed, it was crazy, a smashing time was had by all. Here's one of the more classic pics of that night:






1998


I'm pretty sure I spent this NY at Kelly's. We played games, watched Dick Clark, and went on the patio to make noise at midnight. Quiet fun with friends.



I don't remember anything before that. Boy, is that pathetic or what?

I just got a taste of having my site go down because BlogVoices is down. That's the end of that experiment. There's an old proverb that goes something like: "Once burned by it, a cat will never again sit on a hot stove. Nor a cold one."

Okay okay, I know I haven't been updating. Sorry, I've had my head on another site. Plus, I get to dive in to the considerable adventure of running my own server soon. I'm excited. I've changed hosts more times than I care to mention--it will be nice to have it all under my control. The service will suck, but at least I'll know who to blame.

MSNBC is running a "Headliners and Legends" marathon. While puttering around the house, I've watched Michael Douglas, Jim Carrey, and now Bruce Willis. What is the fascination with celebrity? I've always had such disdain for it in others, and hated it in myself. Oh hell, maybe I should just give up and subscribe to People.

Happy happy, merry merry, yadda yadda. No, I'm not at all cynical about Christmas. It's just that mine was over a couple weeks ago, so I'm just having days off to sit at home bored. I'll live. But ya'll have a fantastic holiday.

Hmm...do I smell a whiff of automated updates? If not, somebody's being obsessive today. Of course, all the entries are interesting, so don't miss any!

"People spend too much time finding other people to blame, too much energy finding excuses for not being what they are capable of being, and not enough energy putting themselves on the line, growing out of the past, and getting on with their lives."

phonezilla.net announces new strategic initiative; new website baffles e-consumers. Paul McAleer of phonezilla explains the recent changes, teasing at further upheavals in the near future. What could McAleer, a mainstay of the web, be saying to his millions of readers? The contents are vague, but the man himself describes the changes as "sweeping" and "spiritual".

Woohoo! I heard from the ex-boyfriend. He's doing well, after a few days of recovery following our bitter breakup. So now we're friends. In fact, he'd like me to do him a teensy favor. ATTENTION LADIES! Matthew is available to be YOUR boyfriend for a week! He's intelligent, witty, and attentive. I'm sure you'll appreciate him at least as much as I did. Can't make up your mind? Here's something that should help:




He's got that dangerous hottie look goin' on. You know you don't want to miss this opportunity! As his, er, "agent", contact me and I'll hook you up.

It's time.



Beginning in about 1989 I started flirting with the idea of celibacy. I didn't like myself in relationships; I had a tendency to lose my identity and my priorities. I thought celibacy would be a great way to find peace away from the turmoil of relationships. I knew it would be a sacrifice, but one I thought was worth it. In 1992 it finally stuck. Yes, that's right folks, it took me three years to finally give it up. Turns out it was worth it.



The past eight years have been an oasis. I've had the chance to examine my life free of the influence of an intimate relationship. I've grown immeasurably. I still have my quirks and insecurities, but I'm grounded in myself. I no longer fear losing myself in another person.



It's time to let go of celibacy and embrace once again the possibility of love. I've grown as much as I can on my own, it's time to seek out the growth that comes from intimate interaction.



Of course, this doesn't really change anything for me on a day-to-day basis. I don't have anyone in mind. I'm not going to bombard the marketplace with a flurry of personal ads. I may put a few pics up here (yeah, I know, it's about time), just to encourage the chubby-chasers. Okay, there are a few things that will change. There are strategies to staying celibate: avoiding situations where you might meet someone; forbidding setups; discounting flirting out of hand. Not to mention running the other way at the merest whif of chemistry. With the exception of setups (yech!), I'll let go of those.



Am I going to run right out and get laid? Oh, I wish. Probably not. I'm awfully picky, and that's not something I intend to change. In all likelihood, I'll remain celibate for a while and just check things out. We'll see what happens.



Of course, I have the flu and am more or less out of my mind right now, so I might take all this back in a couple days.

Slavery. Today's lead story in Disinformation sheds light on the practice of modern slavery. Not the kinky, Gor-esque-bondage kind--the real live raid-the-village-and-sell-the-women-and-children kind. Sometimes, I root for the asteroid. Humans are slime.

Warning: the following entry is naughty. If you work with me or are otherwise personally acquainted with me, this is going to be more than you want to know.



I was having this delicious dream--I was spooning a sleeping man (Yes, I know who it was. No, I'm not going to tell you.) and decided to wake him up for sex. Just as I was meeting with success, I woke up. Still aroused by the dream, I started to...you know. But everything felt foggy and out of place. Then I woke up. Damn I hate when that happens. Still a little horny, I started to...you know. Everything felt right--the texture of the blankets, the smell of my bedroom--but I just couldn't get anything going. Then I woke up.



I lay there, a little terrified, for several minutes. I definitely wasn't horny anymore. I think I'll just stay up now. For a long time.

Bleah. Kitty's all icky today. Outpourings of sympathy gladly accepted via the post/read comments button below. Of course, if no one comments, my self-esteem will plummet, but hey, that's not a desperate cry for attention. I'm sure the realization that I have no friends will be good for my character.

I just realized that two of my favorite bloggers are from Chicago. You guys should get together so I can ask each of you about the other one.

MeFi is down. I'm having DTs.

In case anyone is wondering what happened to the boyfriend for a week, he's completely disappeared. Haven't heard a peep. We apparently did not form a deep and lasting bond.

Jim finds a good use for a toll-free number. Does the creative genius that is Bondcliff know no bounds?

At last I have Flash. 5, to be exact. No, I haven't done anything cool and useless to show you yet. Just want to put down my initial thoughts so I can look back at this and laugh later. Or cry. Or whatever.



I've gone through the tutorial and messed with it a bit, and I can tell you this: I see why people like it. Not just for the end result. I'm really very impressed with this tool--Macromedia has put a lot of thought into what designers need and how they need to do it. Already I have a clear understanding of the basics and some early over-confidence. I don't think I've ever been able to describe my first day with an application as "sweet", but this was. Sweeeet.

If anyone has noticed, the moi link has changed recently. The only reason I mention it is because I've removed my ICQ number. When I wiped my hard drive, I decided I would no longer support a shoddy piece of overblown, hard-to-use freeware that has one of the worst websites I've ever seen for a business. I shudder to think that it was even more egregiously crowded when I first visited. ICQ used to be the only game in town, and they were pretty darned cool. But they sat on their laurels. AIM and Yahoo Messenger far outstrip ICQ for sheer usability, and have finally overtaken it in useful features as well. Yahoo has allowed offline messaging for a while, and recently added the ability to save a session. For me, that completely eliminates any need for the dinosaur that is ICQ. So if you have my number, lose it.

Under the heading "Things I Can Check Compulsively":

Had some fun tonight and set up BlogVoices. Very cool. It isn't formatted exactly the way I want yet, but I'm tired. Anyway, it works. It's wonderful. You may now leave snarky comments on specific entries. Go ahead. You know you want to. Click the teeny "discuss" at the end of the post.

On breaking unconscious habits:


Like most people, I was taught by parents, society, and Better Homes and Gardens, that the livingroom is the place where you prepare to entertain guests. You put some chairs and a couch in there, arranging them for easy conversation. If you must have an office near the livingroom, do your best to separate it from the rest of the area.



Not even thinking about it, this is of course what I did when I moved into the new place. This is fine if you have some space, but my apt is absolutely lilliputian. So, every night I would come home from work, ignore the chairs and the couch and the tv (which most folks consider an okay livingroom addition), and head for the teeny-tiny corner I'd set aside for my office.



To top it all off, I mostly go out--people come back to my place maybe once a month. My "entertainment area" was doing little more than entertaining my two cats.



Screw that.



Several hours and a sore back later, I have a comfy office that also happens to contain a chair, couch, and tv. Gee, so this is what the rest of the livingroom is like.

I looked at the stats for one of my sites and found the domain name "PRESIDENT". Pretty damned cocky, if you ask me. Unless of course it really is the president.

Risk Report

Week of Dec 10



About a week ago, a guy named Matthew sent me an email: "pretty risky: be my girlfriend for a week." I thought, heck, why not?



The experiment had its moments. There were a couple of emails where we shared the mundane bits of our day--a sort of instant intimacy. For the most part, however, it was awkward and pointless. What the hell do you do with a fake e-boyfriend? I had no intention of doing the nasty chat. Because he's in Philly, there was no way to make the proposition riskier by actually spending time together.



Matthew is a likeable guy. Getting to know him a little was a good thing. Overall though, I give this a:


Risk Success Rating: 2

Paul and I were talking about our old websites last night, and as a result, we both put up little pieces of nostalgia. Mine is from an old group of Yahoo clubs that focused on self-esteem building for women who thought they needed to lose weight. Though strongly anti-diet, I still find the site had a lot of baggage that I wouldn't approve of these days. Warning, most of the oustide links are cobwebbing.



PS: What was I thinking with all those frames and those tiny fonts? Oi.

Dear Matthew:


I have a confession to make. Tonight I spent more than an hour chatting with another man. It was all friendly banter, I promise we didn't flirt (much), but it made me realize how little you and I talk these days. Did we ever? I wonder. You go to great lengths to send me e-flowers, e-dinners, e-parrots, and I politely say: "thanks, sweetie", but that isn't communication.



Let's face facts: you're a dog person, I'm a cat person; you lurk, I blog. These are divides we cannot easily bridge. And frankly, the whole Kottke thing creeps me out. What I'm trying to say is: it's over.



Matthew, there will always be a special place for you in my heart. It may be right next to tuna salad on a squishy Lender's bagel, but it's a special place nonetheless. I'll never forget our time together. I hope someday, when the hurt has faded, we can find a way to be friends.

Did you know that this world isn't real? And that it has to do with an erection? Neither did I.

It's been a very busy day. I was supposed to be out of town, but we got iced in. All I have to say is: my boyfriend has a sexy voice.

disinformation

I believe I've found a new favorite webzine.

I get a daily dose of Aussie news from G'day Australia. On the front page are a couple of cute quips, plus my HorrorScope. Today's was a bit too close to the mark:

"You will be fortunate enough to have the chance to choose between a rock and a hard place. Choose carefully."

Last ditch election efforts from Michael Moore. Do I agree? I haven't decided. Nonetheless, it's a very interesting article.

My two closest friends are fighting. Charming. Oh, and here's the best part: they didn't actually do anything to one another, rather, one boyfriend unintentionally hurt the other boyfriend's feelings. That's right--Yoko Ono Syndrome squared. I'm trying not to end up in the middle of it, but inching there anyway. I think I'll make like the fifth Beatle and go off to play my drums quietly until it's time for a tell-all expose.

Success is mine. Now I sleep to dream the dreams of the victorious.

I am preparing to completely wipe my hard drive and start over. Believe it or not, I've never done this before. I've taken copious notes, and am preparing backups of all my personal files. Wish me luck. If you don't hear from me for a few days, send in the marines.

There is something that bothers me about Matthew. He appears to be obsessed with Jason Kottke. He says things like: "I shaved my head! I'm KOTTKE!!" He reads Kottke on a regular basis, which is no big deal, but he seems to place an awful lot of importance on everything Kottke says. I wonder if he loves Jason more than me.

Paul has asked me to join his project, Big Fat Blog. Paul has created a great resource for fat acceptance news--one of the best I've seen. I'm honored to be a part of it.

Looking for an easy munchie for a holiday party? Find a grocery store that carries a Hye Roller. If you've never heard of it, it's a rollable cracker that looks like a big tortilla. The best recipe I've used so far is also the simples. I did this last night and it was delish:

1. Sliver one cucumber, dice two small, ripe, tomatoes. Blot thoroughly to remove excess moisture.
   
2. Spread the Hye Roller with roasted garlic cream cheese.
   
3. Blot crisp red lettuce leaves. Lay them down a row in the middle of the cracker.
   
4. Sprinkle the cucumber & tomato on the cracker. Don't overdo.
   
5. Roll it up, slice and serve
   

Wow. I wandered off to clean house for a while, then came back to find my mailbox jammed with virtual flowers and gifts. Tons of sweet "I love yous" from the man of my dreams. I'm so lucky.

I have an important announcement to make. I know this is going to crush some of you, so prepare yourselves: I'm in love.


Yes, frykitty has a boyfriend. His name is Matthew. Matthew, world, world, Matthew.



He works for an art gallery at a major university near Philadelphia, and he does dj work at a club on the weekends. He's quick to anger, so we fight about half the time. It makes the relationship exciting.



So I'm sure you're all wondering what did it for me. What was the key that made me give up years of relationship-free bliss? Easy. The boots:





Those are the sexiest boots I've ever seen. Don't they just make your heart melt?



Stay tuned. This is a new thing for me, so I'll be sure to keep everyone updated on Matthew.

Risk Report

Week of Dec 3


Last night, when my friends were over for our Christmas celebration, I had my friend Darin fix me a hot-buttered rum. That probably sounds like no big deal to you, but here's the catch: I don't drink. Until last night, the sum of my drinking was:

1. A sip of cheap beer taken accidentally as a child (ew!)
   
2. A sip of cheap champaign at my first wedding (ew! ew!)
   
3. A sip of slightly better champaign during a trip to Las Vegas (and ew! again)
   

You know the problem with computer people? We don't relate well with the time frames of non-computer people. While we're zipping at manic speeds over an underground network, people are making work and having lives in a sunlit world that moves much, much more slowly. We think because we have become the dominant paradigm in the developed world that everyone should conform to our vision. Speed up, you luddite.



Newsflash: they may be having more fun than we are. They're having it at low RPMs, so they're enjoying it a great deal. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to spend a day out there.

Blogger has managed to lose two weeks of archives. I can't seem to get them to show up. Unfortunately, among them is an entry I really want someone to see...so here it is again, slightly edited.

What frykitty wants from a MAN

1. He must have a body. Disembodied heads are good for a couple of jokes, but after that they're just creepy. All my guys so far have been skinny, so now I think I'd like to try a little cush or a little beef.
2. Short or tall, love 'em all. I love the lanky look of tall men. I love the huggability of short men. I think I'd prefer the compact at this juncture, but I'm not ruling out any particular verticality.
3. I have a weakness for angles. Hatchet face? I'm your woman. I love a sharply cut jaw and almond-shaped eyes. Round doesn't do it for me.

Okay, here's the important stuff:

4. Humor. Be funny. Smart funny, not stupid-funny.
5. Intelligence. You must know things that I don't know. If we know all the same stuff, what on earth is the point of getting to know you?
6. Glasses. For me, sometimes the glass is half-full and sometimes it's half-emtpy. I'm an optimistic cynic. If you're glass is always half-empty, or worse, dry as a bone, forget it. Gotta have me some joy, boy.
7. Passion. Be intense about something. Love something so much you forget to call me when you're involved in it.

8. My fantasy is to get naughty books and go through trying everything, as long as it only involves me and my partner. Of course, meat and potatoes is great too. Warning: I scream. Game?

Finally, here's the big one:

9. I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING BACKBONE. I have a lot of backbone--I can be so strong that I'm overwhelming. This attracts men who think I have enough decisiveness for both of us. Sod off. If you can't make up your own mind, be your own motivation, know what YOU want, then I don't want you. Yes, I can believe in someone and support them to the ends of the earth with my love and faith, but I'm not a goddamned sawhorse. If you need me that badly, I will run like hell.
   

This year's 5k is up and going, and it's a great way to waste an entire evening going from site to site, enjoying teeny webpages, and rating them. Not to be missed.

Okay, got a question for everyone. Let's see if anyone can actually answer it from experience. How long do you wait for a celebrity to answer your e-mail before you send a follow-up that says: "uh, tap-tap, didja get that last one?" I mean, he contacted me first, I wrote back right away (friendly and businesslike, so don't get any ideas), and now it's just all awkward. Yeah, I know he's busy. No, I'm not ticked, it's just an weird situation. A week in RL is a month in cyberspace (I hate that word--but what else do ya use?). Still, I'm thinking I should give the guy a month in RL. Of course, it hasn't even been a week yet. But it's getting close. So tell me, all you hob-nobbers (okay, I really wanted to say starfuckers, but it seemed out of tone with the post), how long is too long?

For those of us who've led sheltered lives, my friend Chris (who is moving to Portland in less than a month! Woohoo!) explains the infamous "body shot" (keep in mind she's explaining this to ME, an alcohol-illiterate):

"Well, let's say you're doing tequila shots. (not at all for the tame) you have a shot of tequila, some salt and a wedge of lime.



There's different ways of taking all three. Most people do salt, tequila, lime. In that order. If you're doing it by yourself you squeeze a little of the lime's juice onto the curve between your thumb and index finger (or just lick it) and then pour some salt onto it. Then you hold the lime wedge between your thumb and index fingertips of that same hand and hold the tequila shot in the other hand. You lick off the salt, down the tequila and then bite into the lime.


With a body shot, though, the salt goes on someone else's neck and they hold the lime in their mouths (so that the rind is
in their mouth and the lime "meaty-pulp-juice" part is outward). You lick the salt off of 'em, down your shot and then kinda' kiss 'em to get the lime. Body shot. ta-da. Tequila is the most popular but there are other shots that you could do, too. Not many of them are "tasty", though."

I have the day off, because for me, tomorrow is Christmas.



No, it's not a weird religious thing. It's just the day my friends and I have chosen to get together this year. We'll exchange gifts, play games, eat food, the works. December 25 will come and go like any other day for me--tomorrow is The Big Day.



This year, because I have new digs, the fest is at my place. I've even opted to do all the cooking because I haven't cooked for my people in a long time. So I'm off today doing the last of my shopping, all my food prep, and decoration. I know I should be cynical and begrudging--that's my character, right? Sorry to disappoint, but I'm excited and happy to see everyone, and to get this all ready for them.



Those of you who are cynical and begrudging are no doubt wondering what my secret could be. Here it is: I chose my family. My parents and grandparents (who were mostly annoying) are gone, and my siblings may as well be. Over the course of my life, I've carefully chosen and kept wonderful people that I love like mad. I'm always glad to see them.



So, if I'm too busy to write anything for a while:

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!

Jim at Bondcliff sent a great list of risk suggestions, further cementing his position at the top of my "people I just freakin' love" list:

• Find an Indian restaurant and ask for some extra spicy vindaloo. Tell
  them you don't want any of the watered down crap they usually serve to
  us wimpy Americans.
  
• Go take a flying lesson and tell them you want to learn about spins.
  
• Flash somebody, but try not to get arrested.
  
• Find a frozen lake (if they freeze where you live) and take a walk out
  onto it the next time you have a foggy night. Cooler than any drug I've
  ever done. Trust me.
  
• Go to another country just for the weekend. Canada isn't included,
  unless you live in Hawaii.
  
• Throw a dart at a map of America and go where ever it lands. Unless it
  lands on New Jersey. Some risks aren't worth taking.
  
• Try to OD on St. John's Wort.
  
• Work at a help desk just for one day and try to get as many customers as
  possible to complain to your supervisor.
  
• Go to Sears and take a nap on one of the couches.
  
• Do Karaoke or stand-up comedy on open mike night.
  
• Do body shots with a total stranger (I really have no idea what body
  shots are, but they sound risky to me)
  
• Go see a movie starring Steven Segal (ewww)
  
• Start a blog and attempt to offend the universe in alphabetical order.
  This one will do wonders for your self esteem. Trust me on this.
  

A friend and I have made an informal pact: together, we will take one risk per week.



They are small things like taking a new bus just to see what's there, going to a new place for dinner, starting a conversation with a stranger. Sometimes, they'll be big things like new physical challenges or taking a greyhound to a place we've never been. Every week, we'll challenge our perceptions. She won't be here until the end of the month, so I'll have to start this week without her. Just thinking about it scares me a bit--even though these are small things, they are meant to be uncomfortable. It is when we are uncomfortable that we learn. No, that doesn't mean I'm planning on buying tighter pantyhose.



I have three very busy days left of the week. I can't think of any risks I've taken already, so I'd better jump on something soon. Ideas?

Shameless link-back:

Can Alan Moore create a comic book so large that even He cannot lift it?

A daily standby re-designs. Yay, Dilbert can be boxy too. I admit I do like this better than their previous incarnation. The old site was incredibly cluttered, disorganized, and over-done. This one goes too far the other way--it has become typical. Business-like. Boring. Of course, I'll still be there every day like clockwork.

And now, a few words about depression from someone who is not depressed at the moment:



I've come to realize that, for me, depression is an almost-completely biochemical disease. How do I know? because I can lift myself out inside three days with a physical treatment. I don't play happy music to cheer myself. I don't surround myself with perky people. I take St. John's Wort, and I make sure I get enough sleep. In less than three days, I can pull myself out of even the worst funk.



My problem is always realizing I'm depressed. It usually starts slowly. I'll think I'm just a little blue, and I'll snap out of it. After all, I don't want medicate every freaking mood--I do want to feel my own pain, not run from it. So by the time I realize this isn't just sadness, but rather a hide-the-knives-and-stay-off-tall-buildings episode, I'm pretty far gone, and it's harder to self-treat. So I'm glad it's easy for me. I'm incredibly grateful that there is one thing that's cheap, fast, and effective. I wish it worked for everyone.



Final note of gratitude: Kozmo carries a great brand of St. John's Wort.

Went to see The 6th Day last night. It was okay, if a little long. Arnie's performance was flat and fake, particularly as the "nice family guy". I've seen him do a good job before, so I'm going to attribute this to other factors than bad acting. The whole thing was flat, so I'm thinking direction.

I'm groggy and happy today. I was up in the wee hours working on a (gasp!) redesign for this place, when someone got in touch with me about that little site I made for him. Looks like I'll be getting updates from the source. See, I told you it was worth it.

I have an embarrassing confession to make. I know, I say that a lot, but this time it's true.


I've spent the last few months feverishly working on a fansite. Laugh, go ahead. I would. But now that it's done, I'm proud of my work. I've met a lot of great people in the process of doing this, and frankly, it's been a flat blast. Heck, I even wrote my first fan letter in conjunction with the site. So if you think you're too high and mighty to do that tribute site for your favorite whatever, I recommend giving in to the temptation. It's fun.



That said (drumroll please), here it is.

Why the hell do I have a Charley Pride song in my head? Ah, he's okay I guess.

Love Letter to a Friend:



I want you back now.



It's been charming to see you lose yourself in love, forgetting
everything, saying things that will embarrass you later. I can
lose you to love.



Losing you to hate has been frightening. I can't watch you
focus on the shortcomings of another until you disappear in
that other.



He doesn't matter. You're letting him take control of you by
his very existence. He's made a slave of you without lifting a
finger. Do you think he wants that control? Do you enjoy
altering your entire life because of him? Thinking blackly and
obsessively about him? Spending a part of each day for his
sake?



I don't care about him! Get this twice: I DON'T CARE ABOUT
HIM! I care about you.



Please come back.