Guess what I got to do on Saturday? Being that this is the Year of Astronomy and April 4 was the 400th anniversary of Galileo looking through a telescope at the heavens, the U.S. Naval Observatory was having an open house for the first time since 2001. (Read: When ick-Day eney-Chey moved in.) So what did I do on Saturday? I hung out at Joey B.'s house. (Joey B. being Vice President Joe Biden, of course. No,
rahmbamarama isn't ruining my brain, what are you talking about.) And the USNO has an epic library. It is a library that I would like to move into with a blanket and some cats and a keg of Earl Grey. I will post pics later (really!) of the ~epic library~ (tildes totally justified) and Joey B.'s house proper. 'Cause I'm that much of a fan. Also, the Navy was selling hot dogs and hamburgers and BBQ chicken and coleslaw, there was a cookout on Joey B.'s back lawn. So that was awesome.
Sunday was cool too - somehow, no babysitting at all worked out (tragedy, I have no cash), but we got together with Uncle Carlos for the first time all year (outside of work for me, lol). We saw The International, and it was fantastico, and I upheld my strong moral position that I will never leave the theatre during a movie, even if I have to go to the bathroom. (Yo, that ticket was ten dollars and I am getting my money's worth.) This posed a problem, for long movie is long and constantly plot-advancing. And very, very, very good. And Clive Owen is also a yummy badass. Afterwards, we went to Silver Diner and I got the Ultimate Strawberry French Toast (with a side of bacon. Mmm). And I ate it all. Somehow. This is more lulzy when one realizes that I had just learned that Rahm Emanuel's Secret Service Code Name is...(wait for it)...Strawberry. RAHMTOAST! \o/
Monday. Monday was made of epic fail. Epic, epic fail. It was one of those FML days. I had been at work for about thirty minutes when I started noticing problems with my vision. Sometimes it goes away if I ignore it, so I tried that. No such luck, amigo. Fifteen minutes later, I was definitely seeing scintillating scotoma and zigzag lines and half my field of vision was useless. Ocular migraine. Or a migraine with aura - I really don't know, but I think it's an OM. Anyway, these fucking suck and I hate them (as tagged above). So I dimmed the lights in my office, turned one set off, got an extra-strength Advil to head off the inevitable headache, and a can of Coke (which I have been trying to avoid, even though only Diet Coke has aspartame, which is what I am really trying to avoid as it may have totally fucked up my system) for the caffeine to open up my brain's blood vessels as I mostly hate coffee, and sat on my office couch and waited for death or relief, whichever came first. I am one of the unlucky ones - problems with vision are supposed to last from five to thirty minutes. I trend towards the upper end of the scale for these fuckers. And then came the headache, creeping slowly like a creeping thing, so I had thought I'd gotten lucky and avoided it, as sometimes happens. No dice here either. I was in pain - I could work now because I could see (and ignored repeated requests to go home from bossman aka Uncle Carlos), and I knew my body. I even ran down to the Chinese place around the corner and picked up lunch, though I could only stomach a few bites because my sense of smell is greatly enhanced when I have a headache. I even got queasy and a touch of the dry heaves a little bit when I was working, another symptom of the complete and utter neurological bullshit fail that is my life. I also got in a fight with the packaging for my new wireless work mouse. I won (after like fifteen minutes, but that is far too long to spend trying to open plastic packaging and retrieve a fucking mouse), but at great cost to my hands - I have plastic cuts, which are in their own way worse than papercuts. Logitech, you suck at existing.
And then, just when I had gotten mostly over the headache? The fucking fire alarm went off. And it is loud, and clangy, and even more annoying than the McLean one, if that were possible and I found out that it is. The crepe place downstairs had a small fire...but at least I now know that there is a crepe place downstairs. I hate writing about all of this headache crap, because even thinking about it makes me feel awful (so does smelling coffee, but that is neither here nor there - more neurological bullshit), but it must be done. Why? Obviously I am a masochist. Anyway, Carlos and I went down to the Borders to wait while the fire crews did their job. Suffice to say, I did not get a ton of work done yesterday. But mom and I went for pho when I got home, so I guess that is an improvement. (But there was mold on the delicious Arabic rice pudding when I looked in the fridge, so I had to toss it out. Sadface.)
Night ten of West Wing-related dreams, even peripherally. My dreams usually are never consistent across nights (unless they're intermittently recurring), so this is...odd to say the least. Last night's dream involved two WW SNES ROMs (!, why SNES, I do not know) that I found on the internet - sadly, they probably do not exist. I don't remember one of them, but the other had a ridiculously long title and required you to be a random assistant who had to contend with both office gossip and a crisis in...I'm gonna say Bolivia, because that was in the episode I saw last night (365 Days). This has inspired me to see if I can nab a Windows copy of RPG Maker 2000 for cheap and make a WW game. (Like this will ever happen, but I HAVE TO TRY DAMMIT. I mean, I could just do it with the PS2's RPG Maker 2 or 3, both of which I own...but then I cannot share. And I am not quite that selfish.)
And speaking of 365 Days, I have come to a conclusion.
Aside from being in fucking love with Leo McGarry and John Spencer in general, I am in fucking love with Leo's smile. Much the same way that people are in love with Joey B.'s smile (or his teeth, rather). I...I see Leo smile, either just a little smile or a gigantic grin, and I melt like chocolate in the sun. I'm pretty sure there's a mathematical/physics formula for this: where x is the size of Leo's smile, y is how fast Alex turns into a puddle of goo (in nanoseconds), and c is the speed of light/speed of smiles:
y = (x[degrees of x] + ([length of time shown on screen in seconds]*42))
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(0.[squee factor]*c))
Solve for y, motherfucker!I don't even fucking know if this formula is valid or not, but it's the truth! So, for your viewing pleasure (and possible conversion), I present to you: Leosmile, The Picspam!
( Warning: May lead to blindness from smiles, dangerously toxic levels of SQUEE, and fancying John Spencer. )Phew. Yeah. I have a thing for silver foxes, apparently. No idea why...but oh, do I love it. This may mean that I will be picking boyfriends in future based on a careful extrapolation of what they will probably look like forty years from now. Usually, I am okay, but when I see that smile, well, my little heart goes pitter-pat. Is there something wrong with me? Probably. And I love it.