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yourassma
Monday, April 28 2025
When driving to work in the morning, I switch back and forth between the classic/alternative rock of WDST and the repetitive contemporary pop of WSPK (better known as K104.7). It's around 6:20am when I begin my drive, and at that time there is a morning zoo personality on K104.7 known as "the Woodman," and promotional spots for him suggest "wood" might be a reference to morning erections. The Woodman has a gruff whiskey voice and, like most morning radio personalities, he's a living reminder of how stupid people can be and still be gainfully employed. He has a terrible sense of humor, finding ordinary things hilarious, and is bewildered by anyone the least bit outside the very narrow range of normal. Sometimes his banter is so bad that I am forced to switch stations, but then inevitably I am driven back by a Bob Dylan song or a segment of sports news on WDST.
I got sucked into a bit of a vortex at work today trying to get a reluctant in-house C# utility to work. Such things can be insanely complicated, and sometimes working with the complexity is frankly demoralizing. I feel I am unusually good at keeping a large number of salient ideas in my consciousness simultaneously, which is a great skill when building software, but today I felt like maybe there were a few too many things I needed to keep in mind at once (and, it bears mentioning, I was putting a lot of notes in a document that I use to record necessary facts).
On the drive home at the end of the workday, I stopped at MyTown in Stone Ridge, walked through the many hovering carpenter bees and bought a bunch of supplies to restock my workplace snack supplies. I bought corn chips, tostadas, peanut butter, granola bars, and even some perishable items I can bring in as needed like grapes and celery.
Back home in Hurley, the day was absolutely gorgeous and temperatures were in the 70s, so of course I took Charlotte for a walk (this time we went up the Farm Road to the vicinity of the abandoned go cart track and then back home through the forest.
I should mention that the other day when I was in this forest, I stopped by Vulture Rock, the place where I'd disposed of the corpses of the cats Oscar and Charles and the rotting corpse of a deer fawn, to see what of Oscar remained after three and a half cold weather months. I found a bunch of his fluffy fur in wads here and there, but I couldn't find anything else.
Later I met Gretchen at the Garden Café in Woodstock so I could join her for dinner with our friends Lynne and Greg. Gretchen was wearing a bright red shirt with the words "DEAR CANADA: WE HATE HIM TOO" in honor of parliamentary elections taking place in Canada, elections the Trumpy conservatives were poised to win until Donald Trump started talking about making Canada the 51st state. [The non-Trumpies would go on to win.] Dinner conversation spent more than the usual amount of time on politics, just because of how royally Donald Trump is fucking up his presidency. I mentioned all the things I've been hearing about the sudden scarcity of goods showing up at America's ports and said that it is a matter of weeks before stores run out of things to sell, all because Donald Trump thinks Americans buying things other countries produce is somehow a bad thing and that a good way to fix it is to blow up the millions of supply chains that are one of the more important parts of the American economy. We also talked some about cryptocurrency, which is developing even more of a shady reputation than it already had due to Trump's seeming embrace of it (to the extent he can embrace, let alone understand, anything). We also chuckled about NFTs, which Lynne noted she hadn't heard much about in awhile.
Back at the house, Gretchen and I watched the last episode of Hello Tomorrow!, which ended with a cliffhanger, evidently trying to be optimistic for a season 2 that will probably never happen.
I went into the laboratory to do some moderate drinking by myself (partly to wind down after a 150 mg dose of pseudoephedrine I'd taken early today). When I later came out, the whole rest of the upstairs smelled of fart. Meanwhile Gretchen was in the bathroom saying things weren't going great with her ass. She later apologized for having created a "miasma." "Yourassma!" I retorted.
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