You know, I was already

You know, I was already starting to look forward to football. Just the other day I was counting months 'till the start of the season, honest! Now I hear this sad news: the Bills decided to go with Rob Johnson at QB and are letting Doug Flutie go. I don't believe Flutie's going to lead them to the Super Bowl anytime soon, but he was scrappy. And he won games. And he made things happen on the field. And everytime I've seen Johnson play he moves like he's wearing concrete knee-socks and gets sacked every other down. Bah. I think it's time to find a new team to root for.

A small wish: I use

A small wish: I use Moviefone approximately five or six times a month to order movie tickets. And everytime, I have to enter my credit card data and expiration date and billing zip. My small wish? That they store that information for me, that they allow me to create an account. My larger wish would be to see something Amazonian on the site: one-click for movie tickets. And, "Hi Meg, you've seen Hannibal, Crouching Tiger, etc. in the past two months. You may enjoy X, Y, or Z" or, "Hi Meg, you saw X movie, did you know that Y movie, by the same director, will be released next Friday? Would you like to pre-order tickets?"

On second-thought, I think I'd like to see Amazon get into the movie ticket business instead. That would be easier than having Moviefone build all that logic into their site, which I doubt they'd do anyway. The site doesn't appear to have changed since I first bought tickets on it back October, 1999.

So, after all I wrote

So, after all I wrote yesterday, about not writing more, and turning off the webcam, it turns out, it was all LIES LIES LIES. Why must you turn megnut into a House of Lies? And by lies I mean, new posts now appear every day it seems, and the webcam's on. But beware, it looks like a wayward baby grizzly bear went to sleep on my head.

I'd been growing out my hair for some time now, I guess since last fall, and for the past few months, it was beyond manageable and ventured into the realm of frizzed-out over-bleached 'fro. Yesterday I bit the bullet and got it cut and dyed brown. Yes, boring old brown (well there's some red in there too). But my hair needed a rest, and I couldn't go a different shade of blonde on top of what had already been bleached. Well I guess I could have, but then I would have had some mutant orange/blonde/grey hair, so I said No Thank You to that.

So now it looks like I'm wearing a brown wig, and if you think you're freaked out looking at it, imagine how I feel when I look in the mirror. I feel like I'm on the lam. I'm a fugitive who did a bad dye job in a cheap motel bathroom with the sirens wailing in the distance as I rushed to rinse the blood off my hands and the dye from my hair. Quick, into a stolen pick-up, I peel out in a cloud of dirt and gravel, and you don't see me again—until the cameras zoom in on my bullet-ridden body, lying in a ditch. I'm dressed in a man's flannel and one over-sized boot. The other's been lost during the police chase, through the woods, chased by dogs, horrible german shepards with horrible big teeth. As the camera zooms in (my face is unscathed), you see that oddly-colored mop, and you think, My, but she looked so much better blonde.

Jason Kottke, who, incidentally, I

Jason Kottke, who, incidentally, I had dinner with last night, is having a kontest on his site to kome up with a new tagline. Go submit your choice. My favorites to date are: – If Jason responded to those whining fuckers on MeFi, they'd claim that the popular kids were picking on them – Now with 30% more fresh hypertext

(and of course) – Almost as boring as

I’m getting a little tired

I'm getting a little tired of living in California. The self-righteousness and self-centered behavior has really begun to fray my nerves. More so than any other place I've lived, Californians (maybe it's Northern Californians? Bay Areans? San Franciscans? People originally from elsewhere who now live here and are "ruining" the City? Call them what you will…) seem to move about with an air of entitlement that borders on the absurd. Add to that a dollop of "I know how you should act" -ism, and it's enough to send me scurrying back to New England where people are gruff and cold and leave you alone.

Witness today's incident (if I had a scanner, I'd post the original here): my car has been parked for the past six weeks in the exact same parking place on Carl @ Arguello. Six weeks. I never drive it. I have a parking permit. The street has cleaning only once a month (and I forgot to move the car). So my car has sat for six weeks under a pine tree, getting stickier and dirtier by the day. I check on it every few days or so, just to make sure it's ok. It always is. I watch the rest of the cars come and go, and my little Honda just sits.

So imagine my surprise when I found this note stuck to my windshield:

You just performed an act of seriously inconsiderate parking by not pulling forward. Which you could have done. You are at my bumper. Please try harder next time. Karma is real.

Huh? I'll leave it to Karma to straighten this one out, but I suspect someone's got a black mark next to one's name for being a little too aware of what others are doing, and not quite aware enough of one's own (parking) actions. Unless of course, someone moved my car back a foot without my knowledge, which is entirely possible. Perhaps it was like a Mentos® (the Freshmaker) commercial. Perhaps an old lady needed to cross the street and helpful Californians moved my car to clear her path. Certainly such a noble act would be taken into account by Karma, wouldn't it?

The webcam is going to

The webcam is going to be off for awhile, at least in the mornings. I'm really enjoying lazing around in my bathrobe, and you don't want to see that. Well, I don't want you to see that. On a less lazy note, I'm feeling uninspired by the web these days, I think it's some sort of backlash thing. Anyway, I was contemplating taking this site down, but that seemed rash, and I realized that in a week or two, I'd probably be ready to come back to things. So what that means is: I may not be writing much (huh, I bet you didn't see that coming, didya?)

So what am I doing with my days, you ask? Um, not much. I seem to think a lot, a whole lot. Most everything's turned into a question for me. Every story, from movies to tv sitcoms, has become a parable or allegory. I find messages in almost everything. I may need some existentialist amigos to pal around with these days, that's sort of the place I'm in. I wonder, would Kierkegaard be available to meet for coffee? Is Kafka available for beers? Is pb free for some wine drinking?

This happened most recently while viewing Ma Vie en Rose. Questions in my brain: What's so scary about being different? Why does society shun any deviation from the norm? Lesson learned: Love your child unconditionally. Recommendation: Rent it if you like fantastical French films set in strangely American-looking suburbs.

Meanwhile, did I mention how clean our apartment is? I've been doing a lot of "wash the dishes to wash the dishes" type stuff around the house. And listening to my ever-growing Beatles collection. And that's that.

When I was in high

When I was in high school my family used to go skiing every weekend up in Vermont. And being both superstitious and a Beatles fan, I would play "Here Comes the Sun" or "Good Day Sunshine" in the car on the way up to the mountain, in the hopes that the music would somehow influence the weather and we would be treated to a sunny Vermont day of 25º rather than a cloudy Vermont day of 15º. (Funny, I don't remember if it usually worked.)

Anyway, the other day I realized that I no longer owned any Beatles music, somehow having never replaced the albums when I switched to CD's in the early 90's, so I added them all to my Amazon wishlist. And within the past few days, I've received both Abbey Road and Revolver. So today, my first free day all to myself since I resigned, I sat at my computer as it poured rain outside, and listened to "Here Comes the Sun" over and over and over again. I'd forgotten just how much I love the Beatles. And by early afternoon, the sky had cleared, and the sun was shining in the windows.

A day of vacation yesterday

A day of vacation yesterday and thankfully Matt documented it with some photos. It was so refreshing to be about among the trees.

Many thanks to those of you who've written such thoughtful words of encouragement, and to those of you who've sent gifts (!) as well. Especially the anonymous person who sent The Twits and Revolver from my wish list. Thank you thank you thank you. Your kind words and gestures mean more than you can imagine.