web-goddess

Which Buffy villain are you? I’m Anyanka (Anya), which I think fits pretty well.

Your job was purely to grant revenge on men by their angry female lovers. Unfortunately you’re mortal now, and also in love. You’re getting the hang of being human, but you’ve still got some rather strange habits that give away your old, evil nature.

Translation: You were an angry, bitter, man-hatin’ girl before, but now you’ve got a schmoopy and you’re happier than ever and you try not to mess it up. (Link courtesy of anon.)

Ooh, boy, that was fun! I just spent ten minutes nominating people for the Anti-Bloggies. Oh, not you, of course! Just my enemies. Heh heh. Which reminds me, those of you involved in the Great Blogger Code war of January might want to, you know, nominate somebody for “Biggest jerk”. It does a body good.

1. Have you ever had braces? Any other teeth trauma?
Nope. My dentist suggested I could get braces in junior high, but I rejected that plan because it might affect my trumpet playing. That’s right. Like I’m some sort of professional trumpet player now or something.

2. Ever broken any bones?
Nope. I fall down a lot though, so it’s pretty amazing. And I do have a dodgy ankle. I twisted the hell out of it in a tennis match back in high school and it’s been weak ever since. (That’s the one that gave when I spectacularly wiped out in Australia last year.)

3. Ever had stitches?
Nope. Gosh I’m boring! My sister’s had lots though. Once she hit her head on the fender of the car and cut it open. And then in our high school Powder Puff game, she slipped on the first play and cracked heads with some other girl and had to get stitches all down her forehead. (Sorry to broadcast your stories, Sis, but I’ve got nothin’ here.)

4. What are the stories behind some of your [physical] scars?
I’ve got a tiny chicken pox scar on my nose. I’ve got a whitish blobby scar on my left thigh where I once burnt myself with melted plastic. (I was burning straws with a lighter and a bit dripped off. Don’t play with fire, kids.) I’ve got a faint, thin scar on my right thigh from falling off my bike in college. (Very embarrassing.) And lastly, I’ve got a scar on my navel from a very ill-advised piercing incident a couple years ago.

5. How do you plan to spend your weekend?
Actually I have no plans. Zero plans. How boring is that?

It’s Groundhog Day here already! Unfortunately it’s not celebrated in Australia (and I don’t think they have any native groundhogs here anyway), so I can’t really tell you if he’s seen his shadow or not. I guess I’ll have to leave that up to Punxsutawney Phil. Interestingly, one of my roommates when I studied in London lived in Pennsylvania and her uncle was part of the “Brotherhood of the Groundhog” or something. He’s one of the guys in top hats and frock coats who pull the poor bugger out of his cage every year. I regret never having made the pilgrimage from ND.

You guys are the best. It’s the morning and life goes on. I’m gonna get back on this weblogging horse and try not to wallow. If even my sister – as confirmed an atheist as anybody I know – believes my great-grampa is in a better place, then he is. She also reminded me of one of my favorite memories of him: watching him on a videotape, up in his native Kentucky mountains, casually reach over the kill a Copperhead snake with his cane without breaking a stride. He was a cool guy.

Sometimes people e-mail me and ask about living so far from home. I tell them that for the most part, it’s not too difficult. I talk to my family on the phone. We e-mail. We instant message. Often family gossip reaches me over here before it reaches my sister in Indiana. I tell myself that I have about the same level of contact with them as I did in college. I make-believe that the distance doesn’t matter. But every now and then, things happen that emphasize just how far away I am.

My great-grampa died last night. I’ve been a terrible granddaughter. I didn’t visit him at the nursing home when I was last there. He never got to meet Rodd. And now all I can remember is going to his house when I was little, and sitting on his knee and eating circus peanuts and listening to his stories. And this weekend my whole family will meet to lay him to rest… and I won’t be there. I won’t get to comfort them, and they won’t be here to comfort me. It’s a lonely feeling.

Papaw and I were never that close… but I never realized how far apart we were either.

New Poll: How good are you behind the wheel? Are you Luke Duke or Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane?

(Funny sidenote: One of my roommates in college thought for her entire childhood that his name was “Rosco Pico Train”. I swear. I’ve never laughed harder in my life.)

Queen Elizabeth was late for the first engagement of her Golden Jubilee (that’s fifty years on the throne, Yanks) because her car got stuck behind a student driver. Hee!

I don’t think Americans realize how lucky they have it with the driving situation. When I turned fifteen, I got my learner’s permit and signed up to take Driver’s Ed at my school during the summer. I got an A on the exams (a monkey could) and survived several hours of driving and observation. As a result, when I turned sixteen and headed to the BMV I was able to completely skip the driving portion of the test. What’s the point of this? Other than the fact that I still can’t parallel park in a space smaller than thirty feet, in order to get an Australian driver’s license I have to taken both the written and driving exam. How in the world am I going to be able to pass that? I’m a country girl. Any stoplight with more than three cars constitutes major traffic for me. There’s no way I’m gonna pass the test if I have to do it in Sydney…

As you can see from my Links list, I’m still resisting MBTV’s name change. I hereby propose we now refer to it by the acronym TSFKAMBTV, which stands for “The Site Formerly Known As MightyBig TV”. Keep the dream alive.

Apple finally throws down the gauntlet and explodes some common myths about their products. I could’ve used this information last week when I got into an argument with a die-hard Windoze fan. Her main point was Myth #3 (“The software I need isn’t available for Macs.”) After the Snook and I spent ten minutes explaining that it was, we got her to admit that what she really meant was “The pirate software I need isn’t as easily available on Macs.” Well, no duh. If you’re looking for a platform for warez, Windoze is your bitch. If you’re looking for a well-designed, easy-to-use, powerful-as-all-hell computer (with tons of legitimately free software to boot, thanks to OSX’s Unix roots), then a Mac is for you.

On a related note, did I mention that I finally got my iPod? I love love love it. I’ve just about filled it up (over 1200 songs!), which – granted – isn’t my entire music library, but it’s more than enough to keep me happy at the gym (or in my eventual work commute). And it looks so cool. All the gay guys at the gym envy me.