Archive for February, 2006
ESPN.com: WORLD BASEBALL CLASSIC
Woooohoo, it starts tomorrow! Yes! *Dances around*
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I ended up a Chaotic Good Halfling Thief, which is amusing. It’s also interesting in that of the four categories, I generally choose three of them — the only difference is that I tend to go with elf, half-elf, or human instead. (I like to think that I’m not as…something, I’m not sure what, as Halflings are.)
So I spent most of my day in the ER.
I didn’t injure myself too badly; on a scale of “you’re _kidding_ me” to “Should we administer last rites?”, it falls somewhere around “If I had some dermoplast and some more guts, I wouldn’t even be here”.
What happened was this: I recently bought a magnetic knife rack because I was tired of fishing my knives out of the drawer every time I wanted to use one. It didn’t come with mounting hardware, nor did it have instructions — it was just assumed that you could figure it out. (And I suppose if you’re allowed to have not only the tools to put it up with but knives as well, it makes sense that you’re presumed to be capable of figuring out how to get it to stick to the wall.)
Anyhow, so I put it up and wasn’t too excited about it — it was pretty wobbly. So today, I’d stuck my cooling racks to the remaining empty space on the magnet, to get them out of the way without having to actually put them away. When I was ready to get them down, I had underestimated the sticking power of the magnet and the whole thing came off the wall. As the end with my knives (a 12-inch serrated bread knife and my 10-inch chef’s knife) was _much_ heavier than could be supported by the bit of the magnet stuck to the cooling racks, it (of course!) fell on the floor. As it fell, the bread knife hit the back of my index finger, just above the main joint.
So I ran some water over it, fashioned a semi-effective tourniquet* out of some of my new yarn and a ball-point pen, and wrapped it in a towel with some ice. Then I called my aunt and asked her if she’d take me to the ER and called my mother to let her know what had happened and where I was going.
The ER was a circus and a half — they’re renovating the entryway, so it’s difficult to actually find the (current) entry; there was one person working behind the intake counter, and it wasn’t clear that you were supposed to get your name put on the waiting list for the triage nurse (which seems odd, considering that the triage nurse is the one that’s supposed to see people and then determine who gets seen first… but anyhow); and it took a while for the triage nurse to actually show up and start processing people. Then, because I of course wasn’t in any danger of bleeding out or otherwise causing copious amounts of time, trouble, or paperwork, I had to wait for about three hours to be seen. Once I was in the back, the part that took the longest was getting me prepped for stitches — a whopping total of _two_, which took maaaaybe two minutes.
I also got to tell my story to six different people, met a nice man named Ezekiel, and a tetanus shot. And I have no idea how much this little adventure will cost, since they just sent me home and will be sending me a bill.
* I got yelled at for that. Apparently, most people are dumb and don’t remember to loosen the pressure every once in a while to keep from damaging the affected portion of the anatomy and I could have lost my finger and blah blah blah omigod!-cakes. First of all, I _did_ remember to loosen it every once in a while; secondly, because I used a merino-based yarn, the yarn kept getting wet and stretching (and thereby decreasing the pressure whether I wanted it to or not); thirdly, according to Answers.com, it shouldn’t be used for more than about 20 minutes at a time and I hadn’t done so. Also, it looks like I misapplied it anyhow — since it was venous bleeding, I should have put the yarn on the _other_ side of the injury, rather than at the base of my finger. Oh well, now I know.
*Blinkblink* I had no idea that I’ve been that self-absorbed… I can’t even remmeber the last time I commented on Mari and Reesa’s LJs, nor the last time I replied to emails that weren’t from my family.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been so lax about communicating, and so completely absent from the common sphere… *Blink* And I even opened the box I got and everything. Gah.
Off to write an email. Or maybe three.
I have _finally_ learned the origin of the phrase “fear is the mind-killer”. _I_ first heard it in, of all places, an episode of The Grim Adventures Of Billy And Mandy (wherein Lord Byron tries to “help” Billy become cool). I somehow knew that it was from a book, but I got the author and genre wrong — I thought it was Stephen King/horror, but it turns out it was Frank Herbert/sci-fi. It’s the Litany Against Fear from Dune.
It’s also the name of an EP released by a group called Fear Factory. It sounds like an interesting conglomeration (which is saying something, since I generally don’t like remixes).
Not that the former influenced the latter, but… I had the _weirdest_ dream. It involved going to the library and my brother and my scooter. It was all very strange, not that I remember much more than that.
As for the liquor laws… The state runs the liquor stores around here, which (apparently) close at 7:00. If you want to buy a bottle of bourbon* after that, you’re out of luck… However, if you want beer or wine, you can stroll into any grocery store and buy it. Which is strange, at least compared to where I came from — The liquor stores in Alaska are all independently-owned, and major grocery stores have seperate liquor stores where you can buy any alcoholic beverage that you want, pretty much.
* I made bread pudding the other night (yummy, _yummy_ bread pudding), and while I had ice cream and whipped cream, I really wanted a nice bourbon sauce to pour over it. I still haven’t gotten to the liquor store, but I will, eventually…
For instance, according to The Ten Ugliest Man-Made Things, Einsturzende Neubaten’s name means “collapsing new buildings”. Which is fine with me, since I’d been concerned that it had something to do with the dead (like ‘let’s eat the dead’ or ‘i like dead people’ or something equally disturbing).
Though I have no clue as to the song/tune of some of them. How many folksingers does it take to change a light bulb?
BBC NEWS | England | London | Bite-size city takes the biscuit
This fits right in with the gelatin San Francisco that was built some months ago.