Downside of no internet at home.

I spazz when I realize I need to find a copy place or look up a phone number or address or something.

Then, I remember that I have a copy of the YellowPages in my hall closet, and go use that (haven't used the YellowPages in years).

Honestly, though, I've done this like five times, and each time I have to remember anew that I don't have to go online for that shit.

...why I won't get internet at my new place...

I love going to the Nigerian bistro-style cafeteria to use their free wi-fi. Eff coffee and wi-fi, I want wi-fi and $3 worth of meat pies and friend plaintains.

Also, last time I was there, they turned the "OPEN" sign off, but still like there were 12 Africans just hanging out inside playing pool and chit-chatting and using the wi-fi too, and I stayed in there with them too no problem.

You know what I saw?

The other day at the main library on campus I was walking past some computer terminals and there was that one older Asian lady grad student with the purple hair -- and on her screen she was looking at some webpage that said -

MENOPAUSAL DEPRESSION.

Story from a friend from home about his kid...

From a recent email about his son, who's like 4 / 5/ 6 years old (somewhere in there!, I have no idea how the heck old kids are):

The other day [my son] said, "Can you kill a puppy?" I swallowed a laugh and [my wife] took him seriously. [She] said, "Yes, it is possible. But [son's name], that's disturbing." He thought for a second and said, "Yeah, to the puppy. He's thinking, 'Why do you have that spear?'"

. . .

Eccentric professor gossip.

About this one eccentric professor with crazy hair and coke-bottle glasses and a cane who always chain-smokes --

He's turned down speaking invitations from major international scholarly organizations because when he looked into flights, they changed in odd places and the first leg of the flight was really long and he couldn't go that long without a cigarette.

Reminiscing.

For some reason I was thinking about this the other week -

These dealers back in my hometown who kept getting busted opened up a pizza joint ("Patriot Pizza") right after Sept. 11th - there was a colonial militiaman with a rifle on the sign, and behind him a stars-and-stripes design - and they used it as a front to deal drugs, which lasted I think the good part of a year.

"It was bound to happen, they were stupid," one of my friends said, "But I loved it while it lasted... It was so nice to be able to ring up one place and get a large pizza and a bag."

"You know you're tired when..."

You let up on the button on your half-broken toaster (which has stopped working again) to see how toasted the bread is getting, and there's no bread in the toaster.