Houseguests — everyone should have them. Otherwise, how would you ever find the energy to clean the house?
Not that we here at NN.C Central value our houseguests purely for their motivational purposes, although the impending arrival of John and Sam (Sam’s a girl, FYI) did prove to be the motivational fire under my ass to finally whip the last room — not counting the basement — into shape. It’s the guest room/my office, and for weeks, just looking into its jumble of boxes and chaos defeated me. In this house’s former ownership, it was the baby’s room, and it still has its peaceable-kingdom wallpaper border, upon which giraffes frolic with lions. I used that as an excuse: “I think I’ll make myself some lunch first, so I don’t have to look at those giraffes.”
Now it’s more or less finished, except for the frilly curtain thingies and the wallpaper. I hung my KWF diploma/group picture over the desk, to remind me that 17 other people in the world are advancing in their careers, and I’d better get going.
As always when John and Sam visit, the computers got improved; he’s my Mac-genius friend. A few tips to pass along: If you haven’t discovered Google maps, run right over there and do so — you’ll purge Mapquest from your bookmarks immediately afterward. I’m also experimenting with — Vince, Alex, pay attention — Flickr, a faboo photo-sharing site, and hope to have a little Grosse Pointe photo essay in place by, oh, let’s set a deadline — week’s end, say.
And I pass along John’s oracular advice to you: “Metadata is as important as data these days. Pay attention to your tags.”
Yes, oh great one. But when you start nosing around Flickr, you’ll see exactly what he means.
J & S left yesterday morning, March 14, not quite halfway to the alleged lamb-like end of the month. Temperature: 18 degrees. I give up. I F**CKING GIVE UP, I say. I feel like Al Swerengen getting a prostate massage, just one big lump of misery and fury. I feel like hooking the dog to his leash and walking south until we reach the zone where temperatures sit at 55 degrees F. or higher. Unfortunately, we’d have to go through Detroit to get there. Maybe not.
So, then, the bloggage:
File this under “what liberal media?,” Richard Cohen’s take on the absurd lengths to which “balance” can be taken, especially on C-SPAN: You will not be seeing Deborah Lipstadt on C-SPAN. The Holocaust scholar at Emory University has a new book out (“History on Trial”), and an upcoming lecture of hers at Harvard was scheduled to be televised on the public affairs cable outlet. The book is about a libel case brought against her in Britain by David Irving, a Holocaust denier, trivializer and prevaricator who is, by solemn ruling of the very court that heard his lawsuit, “anti-Semitic and racist.” No matter. C-SPAN wanted Irving to “balance” Lipstadt.
Whenever I go to Starbucks, I refuse to use their stupid euphemisms for small, medium and large. I thought it was just me (and Alan). It’s not: When Seth Shepsle goes to Starbucks, he orders a “medium” because “grande” — as the coffee company calls the size, the one between big and small — annoys him. Well, there’s a man after my own heart. The story’s about how people cope with life’s small annoyances. I guess refusing to say “venti” beats going into a church with a gun.
Lance linked to one of those stupid online time-wasters, this one “Which Greek god are you?” Mercifully, it doesn’t waste much time.
Even though I feel like Dolorosa, the goddess of late-winter cabin fever, it turns out I’m…