Smallhouse Log

The fifth day of Christmas
"If you puke, I'll hold your hair back. How was the strip club?" -Andy, 04/09/2004

I really couldn't make the excuse of being too busy to update anymore, since I spent the last hour staring into space thinking about Scav Hunt, the US highway system, the 605 House, and Rachel Ries, though not in that order. Rachael Ries is apparently originally from South Dakota -one of Sioux Falls's fauxburbs, in fact- and is even now still in Chicago, and doing shows. Now I just need to find one I can go to. And I totally mispelled 'apparently' earlier in this paragraph, but caught it in time, for those of you who are keeping track. I can change. I can learn. Yeah.

I'd also been wondering whatever happened to the 605 House. I had some good times there. I could have had some better ones, but the ones I had were pretty good. Even that time I got jailbaited. The 605 House basement is what I think of everytime I hear the Modern Machines' "We're a Basement Band". Come to think of it, it also what I think of whenever I think of Nilay Patel, though I'm not sure exactly why.

And, for the second time, Leah and I argued last night about what a highway is. We must have spent most of an hour on this, which seems bizzare now. In any case, neither of us can any longer use the word "highway" to each other and expect to be understood. So it goes.

This post should really be a flow chart, with the first paragraph leading into the next two seperately, and each of them seperately leading to Scav Hunt, which may well lead back into Rachel Ries. I spent much of the staring-into-spoce time trying to think up some good Scav Hunt items, which seems to get harder every year. Maybe my enthusiasm is waning. I haven't even stated for sure what my involvement is going to be this year, beyond helping to pick new judges, but the deadline is coming up fast. I've been explicitly forbidden from being on Team Burn-This-Mother-Down, though, since I apparantly already know too much, so it's either Judgeship or watching from the sidelines. Hm....

This post seems dense to me, which may mean either that I'm out of practice with writing them, or I've let too much build up and am trying to cram it all into one update. Both of those contain a solution in writing more often, I suppose. We'll see what happens.

Also, Mom, Dad, thanks for the pyjama pants. I'm now convinced that they are getting more comfortable with every minute I wear them.

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