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").

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got that wrong
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   suicide with fresh tattoos
Wednesday, May 1 2019
Ramona the Dog came with me to work, as she often does on Wednesdays, and, aside from some neediness (she moans at me when she gets bored or needs something), she was well behaved. In the mid-morning she and I went on an unusually long walk under the powerlines in the field in the back, and though it seemed for a moment Ramona was trying to sneak off to that maple with the burrows beneath it (the one where Neville tried to kill some sort of immature canid), she listened when I told her no. Her acceptance of this order had me wondering if perhaps she had a little remorse for having treated a fellow dog as a prey animal. (Of our two dogs, I would expect the most such remorse from Neville, who always assumes the best of unknown dogs. Ramona, on the other hand, has decided she's already made all the doggy friends she will ever need.)
Things were kind of low-stress at work today. I'm in a good pattern with my Electron app: I am the only one who really understands how it works, and it's now an essential part of the company. My job now is to add features as they're requested, and I love that sort of work. Today Alex even told me that it was "working too good," meaning he and his team were needing to find new tasks to fill their days. For me, improvements to the productivity of colleagues is a more satisfying metric even than salary.
After I got home from work today, I eventually remembered that Gretchen would be dining with our friends Jasmin and Maryann, so I fixed myself a dinner of sauteed onions and mushrooms with a partial bag of chana masala, all of it eaten with injera Gretchen had brought back at the end of her recent trip to Washington, DC. Thinking it would be an early night, I ate 100 milligrams of diphenhydramine and continued drinking the kratom tea I'd started drinking in the mid-afternoon. Then Gretchen called to say that actually Jasmin and Maryann would be visiting our house after dinner. This sent me into an unexpected cleaning jihad (even though Gretchen hadn't requested it). The kitchen was a complete mess after the preparation of a few too many matzo pizzas.
When Jasmin and Maryann arrived, their directions sent them to the house across the street ("that 80s house") instead of ours. While trying to figure out where they were, they saw a black bear standing on its hind legs trying to get something out of a tree. Being a city girl, Jasmin freaked the fuck out and locked the doors of the car. Eventually Gretchen showed up and steered them to the correct house. The four of us sat for a time in the living room (it had been a chilly day and I'd made a fire). Refreshments consisted of non-caffeinated tea and cake leftover from Gretchen's mother's birthday. By this point I was so sleepy from the diphenhydramine that my memory didn't record all that much. I just remember Jasmin being her usual funny self and Maryann being mostly expressionless (aside from a fixed expression of mild surprise) and droll. The funniest thing I remember Jasmin saying was that it's especially wasteful for someone with tattoos (particularly fresh ones) to commit suicide, presumably because the tattoos haven't been given long enough to depreciate (or is it amortize?). She also said something we were all specifically forbidden to write about on Twitter, and she said it immediately after I jokingly observed that maybe she wouldn't've locked the doors of her car had that bear she'd seen in the neighbor's yard been white (no, it wasn't racist).
After Jasmin and Maryann left, I kicked up my sleepiness a notch by drinking some orange juice with vodka in it. [REDACTED]


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