(Mostly for Google's benefit)

Hoo boy troll time. AIM user "what apath" has been trolling up Deviant Art, and has branched out into IM. Banninated on AIM without fanfare. Don't feed the trolls, kids.

What is it about a supposedly consequence-free environment that encourages trolls to act like trolls? Maybe it's all that dribbling machismo looking for a smackdown but not finding it. Friends don't let friends troll. If you find that a friend's been trolling, smack them in the face. If your friend keeps trolling, smack them in the face again, this time with a brick.

(Pacifist much? Heh. I think work's been getting to me.)

Hooray trip!

Right, then. I'm off. Updates coming soon from a much-abused cellphone near you, as I grow immensely bored with the realities of travel! (ack. Where did I put the Emergency Chocolate?)

(no subject)

Ribbit. I feel a lot better than last night when I couldn't breathe while sleeping, but the damage to my voice heals slowly.

Transit!

I got to Sky Harbor way early. I figured I would; I figured I'd rather be early than late. I brought Thalia with me this time (hooray Thalia!) and I'm taking advantage of the Sky Harbor wireless LAN. I'd been planning to read my new Duane, since I'm not sure if I'll be able to do much of that on the plane, what with takeoff and descent and all.

Best wishes to my New York friends. The transit strike looks to be sucking for everyone. Here's hoping it resolves soon!

I am to be boarding soon. I am hard-pressed to not stick my tongue out at the television when Bush is on there saying some very stupid things. He is such a disagreeable man.

The gate area is filling up. I have been sitting here for an hour and a quarter without feeling the passage of time particularly strongly.

There was a geekboy on the bus. I spotted him the moment he got on. He might have been checking me out. I was trying to show signs of "Hi, I'm a geek chick!" to keep myself in practice. Mostly this involved the Baen logo on the spine of A Civil Campaign; that effort got abandoned when reading made me dizzy with a few lurching turns.

I forgot to eat breakfast before I left. I will have ten-day-old pizza to dispose of when I return. Ooops. At least it's in the refrigerator. (Dinner Sunday night is lunch Monday and breakfast Tuesday, it seems...)

I become more and more intimidated the closer we get to flight time: my ears are not going to like the pressure changes.

I'd better close down the client and the browser, as I board soon, and board in the first group. (Yay upgrades at check-in!)

(no subject)

Not half as miserable as I expected to be. The blowing trick I do with the ears to pop them does it on ground or off.

Are we there yet?

Short answer: yes.

Longer answer: Guide Dog Aunt found me in the baggage claim, waited with me, showed off The Poodle to random passerby (actually, random passerby came up and started squeeing over The Poodle without talking to my aunt first, much the way some people come up, coo at babies and try to pat them, and only then encounter the Death Glare of the Parent. Except my aunt was much more amenable to poodle-based glee than that.), picked up my bag, wandered through a maze of twisty confusion to the parking lot, drove through more twisty confusion, then hilly confusion, and -- here we are!

The cousins are home. The cousins are gaming. This surprises no one. I'm not sure where Guide Dog Uncle is.

My cough hurts.