Well here's one for the in-basket lest you need hard evidence that shooting, attending rock and roll events causes hardness of hearing, deafness, lack of understanding.
Listening to far-superiour Canadian radio today I heard an advert for a six-metre container of beer. Holy shit, I thought, driving at the speed limit, fyi, that's a lot of cubic beer. So I'm making cursory calculations before I realized Nope, that would be six liters. Onwards.
After being completely computer-paralyzed yesterday as the iBook isn't always able to keep up with the rigors of my demanding digital image needs, I ordered a 40-gig external harddrive from the nice tech boy in Austin, TX. I wanted to grill him on the local music scene but thought He's probably all paranoid because these calls are all taped so he won't open up about thrilling new acts and going out on the live music prowl. Or, perhaps more likely, he's a cute-sounding, white sock wearer.
I'm nearly finished with the Venti six-metre cuppa joe from Starbucks, following the massive university delivery of information and I'm firing on all 8.
Back to deadlines. Back to deadlines. Back to the ever-informative, yet with delicate snarky undertones, of writing me. Perfect stringer-together of adjectives and the like.
No love today, just coffee, my heart pumping and spewing coffee, not B+ today.