Okay, I’m not going to say how I came to be reading this trashy celebrity website, but this is definitely one of those things that made me go, “Huh???”
In a story about a famous person (though I’ve never heard of him) charged with “barbaric assault and battery” against a woman, I came across this line:
| She also claims he tossed her Gucci purse out of a second story window (a felony in Italy). |
I immediately thought about the fact that, in most of the states in our country, gay people can be fired simply for being gay, or that there is such controversy in including gay people in hate crime legislation. What does it say about a world in which, in some places, a purse has more protection than a human being?
This is visually interesting, but does get a little long… (no pun intended). [SFW]
I did some curricular engagement work this morning, resulting in some e-mail to Myra and Patti.
I was going to stop by the post office to nail down exactly how long it takes a letter to get from my city to another city—a piece of information I’m going to need later on in the year. I also needed 15 2-cent stamps, and I had a letter to mail.
As soon as I walked out the door, the mail truck was leaving the first set of boxes in my area and driving to the set which houses my mail. This would be uneventful were it not 12:30 and the mail has never arrived before 5:00PM on a weekday.
I handed the mail person my letter, and I skipped the post office run, as the other two items are not time critical.
I stopped by the ABC store, where I bought a half gallon of Canadian Club.
As soon as I walked in the door, a guy in the back yelled, “Mother-fucker. Look at this thing; it’s not doing shit!” I glanced back toward the voice to see a hunky guy in a back room with white mist all about him.
I assumed he was talking to a co-worker back there, but he repeated, louder to me: “Come look at this, man.”
I went back there, and he had sprayed some red graffiti on the wall with a shitload of white spray paint, and it had done absolutely nothing to cover it up.
“Is it translucent?” I asked trying to stay focused on the wall instead of him.
“No, man. It’s supposed to be flat, white paint. Look at this!” he said as he wiped his finger across a nearby box that had white mist all over it. “Do I have any on me?” he asked indicating his hair.
“No,” I said.
I stopped by Addam’s University Bookstore right next to the ABC store there at Mission Valley with two tasks in mind: 1) to buy something with the “College of Engineering” on it for a graduation gift, and 2) to see how much they’d give me for four books from past semesters that I wanted to sell back.
The stop was a bust: 1) they didn’t have anything specifically with the COE on it, and 2) out of the four books, they offered me $2.00 for one of them.
“For 2 bucks, I’ll just keep it, thanks,” I said.
From there, I stopped by the NCSU Bookstore, where the only COE item they had was a t-shirt that said COE on the front.
Two problems with them: 1) They only had XXL, XL, and S, and I’m quite sure the person I want it for is a M, or a L at most, and 2) It had a list of the top ten reasons “why I’m in the COE”—the first of which was “to use all the buttons on my calculator.”
I settled for a $25 gift card to the place.
I stopped by MacThrift Clearance Center on Capital Blvd in search for a nice desk, and was helped by another hunky man—ironically named Adam.
I saw one used desk (with a matching chair) that I really liked. It’s an L-shaped desk, which is what I want, but the extension is on the right side, and I would prefer one on the left.
“I have a truckload of furniture outside that I haven’t yet unloaded, and it’s supposed to have a couple of desks on it, if you want to wait to check that out.”
“How about this,” I offered, “I’ll give you something to hold this one, and I’ll come back on Friday to see what was on the truck. If there’s not anything else that I like, I’ll take this one.”
“You don’t have to give me a deposit; just come back on Friday.”
Cool.
I met my sister Vivian for lunch today, as she was once again in town for a couple of days for a conference—this one in Chapel Hill, on leadership.
We did a quick walk through Dick’s, where I bought a pair of shorts and she bought three packs of golf balls for her husband Jeff.
We had lunch at the Olive Garden, where the first thing the waitress said to us when she welcomed us was, “We’re out of olives.”
I had the Chicken Alfredo Pizza, and sis had the Chicken Parmesan, both of which came with salads and bread sticks.
I ate half of my pizza and two helpings of salad, boxing the leftover pizza for a late night snack after the bar.
Dancing was very, very festive tonight. There was an unbelievable number of people there, and four or five people from the crowd took the free lesson, which was cool.