Flight of the Flynns

Guess who‘s back and living with her Daddy. That’s right: Spider-Man. He watches everyone who comes into my room, and he greets that person with a frozen, robotic wave.

Last night was chicken and shrimp marinaded in teriyaki sprinkled with sesame seeds on a bed of rice with a side of thai mushroom noodles. I thought of adding vegetables and egg rolls, but it was too late for that. Next time, next time…

I crossed a new item off my ToDo List widget, “Learn How to Photograph”. Though I really don’t have a complete grasping of the nuances and complexities of photography, the photoshoot went fairly well. Due to the heat (and the rather boring landscape), we did the entire shoot in her upstairs, and we did a color roll and a black and white roll. That, and she had a one-use camera that she wanted to finish up.

“‘Cranking Metallica’? If that is some sort of drug reference, then it isn’t funny.” Oh, Gilmore Girls.

I got the Kunek CD the other day. It’s called “Flight of the Flynns”, which is ironic as all of Megan’s family has the uncanny ability to fly. If only it would have been “Radiation of the Rauschs” implying that we all have the power to radiate or “Regurgitation of the Rauschs” giving us the power to projectile vomit. If only indie rock albums could come true.

I like Kunek. They have a very laid back attitude, a sort of depressed, spacey, voices-in-the-back-of-your-head echoing sound to them. On closer inspection of the lyrics, I found them to be richly dark and paranoid. They ring with the sentiment that monsters exist, but we can’t kill them, so let’s just move on. The ice age is coming.

Strangers on the airwaves
control you from the sky.
Taken by the slipstream,
they’ll feed you to the fire.

I find that the more I listen to this CD, the more I like it.

I’m never leaving the windows down at work again. Our offices seem to be located wonderfully near some sort of field. And, unfortunately, most fields are comprised of, aided by, or mixed with manure. The smell was awful, and there were flies everywhere. I hate that place a little more each day. If it isn’t the parking (or lack of), it’s the random odd people coming by like just because my cubicle opens towards the break room means that I want to talk to them, or it’s the disappearances.

Ok. I’ll forgive them, but only if they fix the dollar bill part of the Pepsi machine.

Good bye. They’ve got you now.