A random spackling of links and stuff

Our apartment walls could use some spackle, but I'm too lazy to do it myself during the work week, too busy on the weekends to bother, and too intelligent to risk calling our maintenance staff. Example: my last request to the company/maintence ran something like, Hey guys, our front yard looks terrible as it's basically sand. Also said sand is blowing through our windows and door-cracks. The area would really benefit from having sod or grass or some sort of landscaping. What can you do about this? Two weeks later A. picked me up from work.

"So, the maintenance guys came and fixed the front yard."

"Really!" I was amazed. (I also had to go to the bathroom, under which circumstances I tend to amaze more easily. But still. I believe my emails regarding maintenance are usually filed in the handy Trash folder.)

"Yeah, close your eyes."

I did. We drove into the parking lot, A. guided me out of the car, led me up the front walk, and - tada - I opened my eyes to see


_{Rocks! You can't explain that.}

Yes. A giant spread of rocks. Apparently the guys initially put the whole load in front of our house, and then their supervisor chewed them out and told them the load was for both tiny front lawns (we live in a fourplex). So, A. said, they started pitching them rock by rock over to the other lawn. I think spackling might be too advanced.

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I recently began listening to the Beer School podcast. It's great, but it's also making me crave beer at work. Between my little picture of John Cleese encouraging me with wine from the corner of my cubical and the sounds of two dudes enjoying porters and IPAs and even the odd Heinekein or Sapporo, my work environment is not conducive to abstemious, alcohol-free work.

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Are you a supertaster?
"Supertasters tend to dislike strong, bitter foods like raw broccoli, grapefruit juice, coffee and dark chocolate...supertasters tend to find highly fatty and sugary foods less palatable than non-tasters. As a result, supertasters tend to weigh less."

(I'll definitely have to register under "non-taster" when the robots come.)

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A. and I were talking derisively about the royal wedding but we had to stop when we couldn't figure out whether or not Kate would be allowed to take the throne if Charles, William, and Harry all were killed in a tragic yachting accident. Why couldn't we proceed? Obviously because then we'd have to actively research it and thus would crumble our show of uninterest. Damn you, royals and your fascinating labrynthine line of succession.

AND DAMN YOU TOO, INTERNET