Random shit.

I don't feel like exercising my brain enough to string together something coherent, so you're going to get a bunch of, well, exactly what it says. Fair warning: almost none of these things are connected to any of the others.

• I just got a flirtatious little message with the subject line "Do you like Marines?" *checks* Yep. Still female. Still got a pulse. Of course I like Marines. Are there women who don't? Still, I must admit, the overwhelming urge is to send the boy over to Murphy to be put through his paces. Oh, and to giggle like hell, because it's just funny (the message happened to come from a 22-year-old).

• High up on my list of things I figure will get your ass pulled over fast: Not just running a red light in front of a cop, but cutting him off so sharply you almost clip his front fender as you are making a right turn out of the center lane while running said red light. I was wrong on this.

• I keep getting phone calls from an 860 area code. This is Connecticut. Specifically, this is the area of Connecticut which includes Groton. Googling the number, it seems to be telemarketing, which is what I figured, and why I never answered. Still, possibly-Groton phone calls make me nervous. I figure I'll answer anything that is caller IDed as US GOVERNMENT, and the hell with the rest of it. Oh, and I'll gladly ship them Rob. Just for the record.

• One of my Facebook friends is disgruntled with the NEISD because she had to pull her children out of school today in order for them to listen to the President's speech (apparently unaware it's posted on the White House website). She's writing a letter. Of course, she didn't see fit to advocate for airing the speech last week, when the decision was being made. Easier to complain after the fact?

• Thanks to the Pistolero, I am remembering how much I love George Strait. That man is so damn talented. I do not think he's done a single thing I don't like, and I can't say that of anyone else.
  

• Speaking of which, my long lost twin brother, why are we not Facebook friends?

• My friend Marie makes the most amazing Tunisian-crochet Afghans. She made one for a fellow overseas, from a patch he sent. The afghan has a picture of a vehicle I really should know the name of (I know what it's for, just not what it's called); underneath it says "Route Clearance Vehicle Modernization Program. (It's actually called a Route Clearance Vehicle, isn't it? Am I that dumb?) The very idea of something called that amuses me greatly. For some reason it puts me in mind of Super ServMart.

• I should probably quit reading Alex's blog. It seems to always either depress me or piss me the fuck off. Or both. Of course, this is not Alex's fault. Yet again I'm reminded of one of my favorite Larry Barksdale quotes: "Sometimes I get nostalgic for my days in the Army. And then I beat my head against the wall until it goes away."

• If FoxNews is supposedly so right wing and supportive of the military, why the hell did I have to hit CNN's website for this story? (I heard about it on the radio earlier today, but I guess they got bored with it, because it didn't last past noon, & I was trying to figure out what the hell happened.) Even scrolling down past the lead stories to "world news," I couldn't find it.

• I realize I'm reading a lot of LEO blogs, but it seems the nearest fellow is Texas Ghostrider, and he's in Houston. I read three cop blogs out of California. I should be embarrassed. Anybody know if anyone on SAPD is blogging?

• Speaking of SAPD, robber ran out of a Valero this morning in front of a rookie police officer who probably just wanted coffee. Poor fellow wound up with what I imagine was a metric butt-ton of paperwork to fill out instead. The news story contained the line "the victim has died of his wounds." Let's be a little more clear with this, please. This is how you say it next time: "The dumbass who pointed a shotgun at a police officer is no longer wasting the time of a trauma team at BAMC."

• Although I grasp the issues with speed and death that exist, I still smile every damn time I see a soldier on a motorcycle. I am not sure why.
  

• I bought my own birthday presents this year. This involved a lingerie store and, eventually, a dirty martini. And Fred was as appreciative as a man can be long distance.

• I have four pages of fiction due tomorrow. I had a page and a half due Friday. I actually had three pages on Friday (it was an entire scene). I actually finished the story Sunday night and can now print off pages as required. The short story is 16 pages long. I seriously doubt it will go beyond the class, but it is something I am proud to have written. I am also lucky enough to have paired up with a very smart and talented girl for a critique partner. I am having visions of a writing group that lasts beyond the end of the semester.

• While picking up the girls from school last week, the woman in front of me at the sign-in window complained to the woman in the office that she'd parked out in front of the school, come in to pick up her child, and returned to find a parking ticket. Mind you, there are signs which say NO PARKING ANY TIME about every 10 feet along the street in front of the school. Perhaps that should have been a clue.

• It is good to be back at the gym, and yet a reminder of why I am not like other women. For a grown woman at least my size (if not a little wider) to try to hide behind a half-size locker while wrapped in a towel so that nothing shows while she's getting dressed...well, I didn't laugh. I'm proud of myself. I was, however, disgruntled that because she was so obviously uncomfortable with nudity I couldn't, in good conscience, strip down at my locker like I usually do before heading in to the showers. Women, please. We've all got the same equipment.

• And while I am on that subject. How the hell long can it take one woman to get dressed? I came in, I took off my shirt, socks, & shoes and grabbed a towel, went and took a damn shower, including washing my hair (it comes down to my butt, so this is not a quick thing). Came out. She's still wrapped in a towel. I got dressed. I was waiting for my mother to finish with an appointment, so I went outside to the lobby and read for about ten minutes. Went back into the locker room. She was still there. It took the woman about forty minutes to get dressed and primp and leave, during which time she spent at least five minues straightening out the zipper on her jacket, 20 minutes in front of a mirror doing her face and/or hair, and somehow managed to leave greasy smudges on the full length mirror by her locker. I do not get women.

• Tropical storm Linda? Funny. Tropical storm Fred? Heh. Learning about both on the same day? Hilarious. Seriously, I have been giggling about it since this morning.
  

'Tis all for now, folks.