misc. comments 3

To misia:

As I think I've mentioned, the only reason I've heard of Tertullian is that the Unix fortune cookie program, as distributed on SunOS, includes a quote from Jung discussing Tertullian. There are days I suspect that "eclectic" is, at least in my case, merely a polite word for "magpie."

---

moominmuppet asked "What is your favorite coffee cup, and why?"

Right here next to me is my favorite, the bunny mug. The "bunnyfuck" mug if we're feeling long-winded or vulgar, and the "bun mug" if we're in a hurry or feeling silly. (Because it's fun to say "bun mug bun mug bun mug.") It's cream-colored, with a brown sketch of a rabbit orgy; it holds the right amount of tea (I'd guess about 12 fluid ounces), and the handle is the right shape for my hand. There's a very small chip in the rim, fortunately just left of where I naturally drink from it. We've had it long enough that I don't know where it came from and suspect that cattitude may have had it before we lived together (which would make it close to 20 years old); despite that, it's my mug by custom and consent. There are other mugs that each of us prefers, but the only other one that either of us has a claim on is the Hothead Paisan mug, which is his because I bought it as a gift for him.

---

To stakebait:

It occurs to me that "easy people" is a relative term: someone who's easy for me may be difficult for you, and impossible for a third party. Also, simple and easy are very different things.

---

Commenting to rysmiel's comment to moominmuppet's inclusion of an article on defining planets:

All you need for [disagreement with aliens about what counts as a planet] is different sets of rules--maybe we'll use the gravity rule, and the aliens would use a rule of size or location or whether it holds an atmosphere....

What this article doesn't mention--and really ought to address, one way or the other--is that the definition by mass also makes Luna and Titan and Ganymede and quite a few other moons planets.

misc. comments 3

To misia:

As I think I've mentioned, the only reason I've heard of Tertullian is that the Unix fortune cookie program, as distributed on SunOS, includes a quote from Jung discussing Tertullian. There are days I suspect that "eclectic" is, at least in my case, merely a polite word for "magpie."

---

moominmuppet asked "What is your favorite coffee cup, and why?"

Right here next to me is my favorite, the bunny mug. The "bunnyfuck" mug if we're feeling long-winded or vulgar, and the "bun mug" if we're in a hurry or feeling silly. (Because it's fun to say "bun mug bun mug bun mug.") It's cream-colored, with a brown sketch of a rabbit orgy; it holds the right amount of tea (I'd guess about 12 fluid ounces), and the handle is the right shape for my hand. There's a very small chip in the rim, fortunately just left of where I naturally drink from it. We've had it long enough that I don't know where it came from and suspect that cattitude may have had it before we lived together (which would make it close to 20 years old); despite that, it's my mug by custom and consent. There are other mugs that each of us prefers, but the only other one that either of us has a claim on is the Hothead Paisan mug, which is his because I bought it as a gift for him.

---

To stakebait:

It occurs to me that "easy people" is a relative term: someone who's easy for me may be difficult for you, and impossible for a third party. Also, simple and easy are very different things.

---

Commenting to rysmiel's comment to moominmuppet's inclusion of an article on defining planets:

All you need for [disagreement with aliens about what counts as a planet] is different sets of rules--maybe we'll use the gravity rule, and the aliens would use a rule of size or location or whether it holds an atmosphere....

What this article doesn't mention--and really ought to address, one way or the other--is that the definition by mass also makes Luna and Titan and Ganymede and quite a few other moons planets.

(no subject)

Happy birthday, brisingamen! (Well, belated birthday, it's already tomorrow where you are.)

(no subject)

Happy birthday, brisingamen! (Well, belated birthday, it's already tomorrow where you are.)

Nice work if you can get it--for the first hour, anyway

The place that I do office temping for occasionally called late last week, and we arranged for me to go in for a couple of hours' work this afternoon, post-gym. By yesterday, it had grown to an expected full day, but I didn't want to miss another day at the gym, so we agreed on this afternoon and however much of tomorrow is needed.

When I got there, muscles properly exercised and a nice Chinese meal in my stomach, I was greeted by a roll of plastic bags. The task at hand was tearing up large numbers of papers--reports produced in years past, mostly, in many cases for companies that no longer exist--that would have been awkward to run through the shredder, and that they figured didn't need that level of destruction. So I'm sitting there in my jeans, pulling handfuls of paper out of binders and tearing them into 4 or 5 or 6 pieces, and wondering what it says about my civilization that this is what I'm getting paid for.

It started out being fun, a fine way to work out frustration, as Anne suggested, not that I had much of that after a solid session of weight work and a proper lunch. But after a while my hands started getting tired, as did my left shoulder, from tearing and tearing and tearing. The first hour was fun; the second boring; by the end of the third, it hurt. Tomorrow morning I go back and do more normal office miscellany: data entry and envelope stuffing. And if I type slowly because my hands are still not happy, I will be annoyed, as I am annoyed now, but they're paying me by the hour, not by the job.

( gym numbers )

Nice work if you can get it--for the first hour, anyway

The place that I do office temping for occasionally called late last week, and we arranged for me to go in for a couple of hours' work this afternoon, post-gym. By yesterday, it had grown to an expected full day, but I didn't want to miss another day at the gym, so we agreed on this afternoon and however much of tomorrow is needed.

When I got there, muscles properly exercised and a nice Chinese meal in my stomach, I was greeted by a roll of plastic bags. The task at hand was tearing up large numbers of papers--reports produced in years past, mostly, in many cases for companies that no longer exist--that would have been awkward to run through the shredder, and that they figured didn't need that level of destruction. So I'm sitting there in my jeans, pulling handfuls of paper out of binders and tearing them into 4 or 5 or 6 pieces, and wondering what it says about my civilization that this is what I'm getting paid for.

It started out being fun, a fine way to work out frustration, as Anne suggested, not that I had much of that after a solid session of weight work and a proper lunch. But after a while my hands started getting tired, as did my left shoulder, from tearing and tearing and tearing. The first hour was fun; the second boring; by the end of the third, it hurt. Tomorrow morning I go back and do more normal office miscellany: data entry and envelope stuffing. And if I type slowly because my hands are still not happy, I will be annoyed, as I am annoyed now, but they're paying me by the hour, not by the job.

( gym numbers )