TWD recap live at Sourcerer

This is three excellent episodes in a row.  Go check out my recap.

Seven years

…well, technically we got married on Leap Day, so our actual anniversary occupies some sort of odd null-space between today and tomorrow.

But still.  Marriage is cool.  I’d do it again.

Happy Anniversary, babe.


I’ve been teaching myself how to use GIMP…

…because Adam Dreece got me thinking about how to be more effective (while, simultaneously, less or at least equally annoying) on Twitter.  And these get MUCH more interaction than plain Tweets do:

BA 1 Twitter Card Sanctum Twitter Card SKYLIGHTS Twitter card

Not perfect, any of them– I can tell I’m a nub at this image-creation game– but effectiveness is improving.  Woo!

RIP, Leonard Nimoy

628x471There are many, many pictures of Mr. Nimoy being shared on the Internet at the moment; I would genuinely like to think I found the WTFiest of them all.

I’ll be honest: I would not, three days ago, have described myself as either a big Star Trek fan (although I’ve had my moments) or a big Spock/Nimoy fan.  So I have a lot of trouble explaining why, when I found out this afternoon that he had passed, I had to shut my office door for a few minutes because I was struggling to hold back tears.  You are a mean, nasty, vicious motherfucker, February, and I will quite glad to see the end of you.


In which my day starts off strange

200_sI should have taken this and gotten a picture on the spot; I apologize for my failure as a blogger.

My day began with an irate parent in the office– before I was even able to get to my desk and put my stuff down.  She’s mad that a teacher has sent a note home without any “useful” information on it, including her signature, and is furthermore angry that her daughter was prevented from leaving the gym at the end of the day so that she could go to said staff member and acquire this all-important signature.  She’s demanding to speak to the teacher in question immediately.

Right away I smell a rat, for several reasons, not least among which is the fact that the teacher in question has gym duty at the end of the day and would, therefore, be in the gym.  I ask to see the note.  The parent hands me two pieces of paper: her daughter’s progress report, which has every single grade carefully scratched out with what appears to be both black pen and Sharpie, and the handwritten note from the teacher.

Note that the parent is mad at the teacher, which means that I don’t help her mood any when I immediately start laughing and tell her daughter that she has exactly one chance to tell the truth before we have a serious problem.  Because this is basically the note:



1) A
2) B-
3) A
4) B
5) B+
6) A-
7) A


I didn’t memorize the motherfucker; I remember there was definitely one word in there that had a superfluous “e” in it somewhere, but you get the idea.  Furthermore, every letter on the page has been gone over at least two times in a way absolutely no adult anywhere writes but is currently a popular affectation among teenage girls.

Note also that the students have eight classes, not seven.

What’s Mom mad about?  That the classes aren’t labeled.   She apparently hasn’t noticed the… uh… various other issues with the note.  She then proceeded to get mad at me for declining to punish her daughter at school; sorry, lady, this one is clearly your problem.  I’m not doing anything about it.

And, say it with me: if the daughter doesn’t pass ISTEP, it’s my fault.