Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

You know, I find that I have a hard time staying current with blogs that don’t have comment systems. Does anyone else feel like that? I wonder if it’s a subconscious need to hog the spotlight, or that I prefer interaction, or something else entirely. I mean, there are some wonderful blogs and journals out there without comments, including quite a few in my blogroll. I’m just not as excited about them as I am about ones with comments.

Update – Chip Rosenthal was discussing the same issue on his site a couple of weeks ago. Always a day late and a dollar short!

I installed the most awesome server log statistics program last night. It’s called AWStats and it’s nice and free. Configuration can be a little confusing to those who aren’t into that sort of thing, but once it’s in it’s a joy to behold. My “recent referrers” script hasn’t been working very well lately (maybe it’s a Safari cache thing, I dunno, Blogrolling recently updated’s been on the fritz too) and I’d gotten so used to it that I was feeling a little forlorn without it.

Anyway, check it out. It rocks. I’ve got my stat page unprotected (for now, don’t abuse it!) here if you want to see what it outputs.

Another sign of the impending apocalypse:

Christopher Walken is front-runner to play Willie Wonka in a Tim Burton-directed remake.

Microsoft announced last month that it was discontinuing Internet Explorer for the Mac, saying Safari was better and that Mac users should use it instead. Ok, fine. I’ve been using Safari for the past few weeks and really enjoy some of its features, especially the tabbed browsing.

But.

Apparently neither of my banks got the memo. On one, I can’t login, and the page it sends me to to resubmit my username and password is for a different bank in a different city. On another, every time I try to enter a new payee, for each character I type I get a popup javascript window showing me the ASCII code of the character I just typed. Which means I have to do this:
A
[enter]
C
[enter]
M
[enter]
E
[enter]
tab
[enter]
1
[enter]
2
[enter]
space
[enter]
B
[enter]
u
[enter]
g
[enter]
s
[enter]
space
[enter]
L
[enter]
n
[enter]
.
[enter]

And so on ad nauseum. That particular bank has been un-Mac-friendly since they changed online banking systems over a year ago, and nowhere on their website do they have the balls to admit that their online banking only works well with Windows 98+ running IE5+. However when I called to complain about how much it sucks on my Mac, they said “Yeah, we know, you should use the site on a PC.”

OK, fine, assholes, buy me one, willya?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

I’m feeling very Mommy Dearest today. “Don’t fuck with me, fellas!” Whoops, better go put the wire hanger back.

I started writing this as a comment to one of The Hestia Chronicles recent posts but it grew so big that I didn’t want to spam her comments window:

Wow, that quote is beautiful. I’ve been reading some pro-anorexia sites lately (not because I’m anorexic, more that I have an insatiable curiousity) and they are filled with girls like that, who hate themselves so much that they cut themselves with razors and punish themselves for eating. And I think, damn but I’m glad I’m not a teenager anymore. And I think, damn but I don’t want my girls to go through that horrible self-hatred thing. And I think, damn, I used to hate myself a lot but now it’s turned into a sort of grudging like. And I think, damn but it sucks that you go through all that crap when you’re so young and don’t have the defenses and experience to know that it too shall pass.

When I was a teenager my dad went to the ice cream store and got some ice cream for my mom and me. Nobody asked him to, he just did it to be nice. He brought me some pistachio ice cream. I didn’t like pistachio ice cream. Instead of thanking him for it and quietly disposing it, I bitched at him for what seemed like hours about how he should have gotten me something different. What a little shit I was. I am so not looking forward to when the girls hit that age. I pray they won’t be as awful as I was. And I wish I had the time with my parents to let them know I became a mostly respectable and mature person who appreciates what they did for me.

At some point while I was napping this afternoon, and hub was watching the kids downstairs, he ran up to get them some food. By the time he went back down, they had discovered a basketful of perfume I had forgotten was down there, opened a bottle, and sprinkled it everywhere. All three floors smell like a French whorehouse. Caroline stunk so bad that I couldn’t pick her up; hub had to bathe her.

Does anyone know how to locate and neutralize sprinkles of perfume on carpet? Can you do like cat pee and use a black light and enzymatic cleaners?

Normally I keep my weight loss stuff and my blog stuff separate, but I just spent days working on an Excel spreadsheet for weight loss and measurements and posted a copy available for download. You can read about it in this entry on my weight loss blog.

at 6 in the morning when you still haven’t gotten to sleep and you’re trapped watching noggin with an almost-2-year-old who won’t sleep because she has a stomach bug, the temptation to make up alternative and rather rude dialog for creatures like maisy the cute little mouse and miffy the cute little bunny and oobi the cute little hand puppet is simply overwhelming.