Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   too much at happy hour
Thursday, April 25 2019
Usually in our household it's I who makes the chili. Tonight, though, it was Gretchen, mostly as a means to use up some leftover faro.

This evening at a little after 8:00pm, we had a rare happy hour for the Mercy For Animals IT-team diaspora. This included the three of us whose job had ended on that bloody Thursday in June, as well as David and Cameron (who still work for MFA). I won't relate all the things that were discussed, but one interesting bit of news is that both Cameron and Allison have begun dating again. Cameron says he's been using a number of dating apps, including one called Bumble whose twist is that the woman is the one who contacts the man. That might sound kind of feminist or progressive on first take, but with any reflection one realizes that it is strongly heteronormative. In any case, none of the ladies from Bumble have been blowing up Cameron's phone. As for Allison, well, her decision to return to the dating pool is a bit more controversial because she hasn't yet broken up with Pickel Matt. But she and Pickle Matt haven't been doing anything with that pickle since 2018, so I feel they've already had what you might call a common-law divorce.
As always, I started drinking a beer (an Ithaca Flower Power IPA) and then soon switch to gin in grapefruit juice and then, when the gin ran out, straight vodka. At some point Dan asked me what all I was on, since it seems I wasn't acting like someone who had just drank a few beers. When the happy hour ended, I went to bed and began futzing with my laptop named Rabbit (as I always do). But something was apparently amiss, because Gretchen took the laptop from me and put it away and then announced to the dogs that "Daddy smells like a still." That didn't surprise me. "I think I drank too much," I moaned. Gretchen fetched me some water and made me drink it, but that didn't help and I announced that I wasn't feeling well. After refusing Gretchen's offer to fetch me something to puke into, I felt a white-hot wave of acid reflux and knew I might actually be about to vomit. I went into the bathroom and proceeded to vomit four or five times. My stomach still contained a fair amount of chili at the time, and that created an impressive spectacle in the toilet. This was the first time I'd vomitted after drinking too much alcohol since the morning after that time back in 2010 when I hung out with Mark Gore in Lake Hill. After vomitting, I felt much better. I wondered if I would even have a hangover.

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