It's not red, but I love my Swingline Stapler. It's there whenever I need it. Actually, I don't think I'd like red anyway, prefer the black.

So, there's that.

In other news, you can't, never ever, not even a hint of it -- fraternize with a co-worker, outside of work. Well you can unless your boss could legally tell you not to. Dumb.

Is it the mining industry in general? Or is it just China - having a bad run of luck in that area.

Watched part of The Matrix tonight on TNT. It was good on the HD channel, and it was good with the surround sound, but, something was not good with the color. The wonderful "matrix green" that is part of the film's flavor was messed up. Sheesh, talk about a green screen; Agent Smith had green teeth, Tank had green skin tones, oh it was bad. It could have ruined my night if I let it. But then afterwards, TNT ran "Last Flight of the Osiris", from The Animatrix. That more than made up for the color situation. I hadn't seen it in maybe two years, and forgot how good it was. Very good.

Must be a Keanu night, cuz now Johnny Mnemonic has been on. I bought that a few years ago, and it's a nutty film. It is fun though. No, not nutty like say, Austin Powers. Just, weird. Like most of the stuff I like.

Did I say that the reason why "Osiris" reminded me of Final Fanasy: Spirits Within? Because Andy Jones directed both. Now I can sleep.

Not quite yet.

"...Call me sometime when you have no class". I love that line, You can be the first one to write in and tell me where it comes from! "Johnny Mnemonic, what will they win?"

Door #1 - A big 'ole Hummer H20 - no redeeming value nor parking space included
Door #2 - A baby's arm, holding an apple
Door #3 - A date with Tad Hamilton

Call before midnight -- oops too late. No Ginsu knives for you. Two weeks!

I love Bob. Bob the Enzyte guy. He doth crack me up. Just think of his smile. Is that not funny, or what?



Done.

Playboy Logo in the Wrong Places



A story from The Guardian , focuses on marketing an adult brand to children. The brand is the Playboy Logo, the famous bunny ears that have been around as long as, well -- Heff -- just about.

WHSmith, the retailer that was targeted for protest by some London schoolgirls this summer, has been selling stationary supplies with the Playboy logo. Not that the Playboy brand is a bad thing, the bunny ears are not offensive, on their own. But to sell this brand to pre-teens, is ridiculous. This isn't a question of some young thing, giving a nod and knowing glance to a clerk, asking for a condom or pack of cigarettes (or a magazine in a brown wrapper). This is merchandising a whole line right along with the Poohs, Bratz, or Hello Kittys. WHSmith or the other retailers who have similar practices know damn well what they are doing. There's a world of difference between bunny ears on Dodge Ram's mudflaps, and those same ears on a glittery pink pencil case.

I suppose the whole logo thing has been diluted somewhat. To me personally, Playboy (and the bunny ears) represent more or less, a non-stop party. I don't automatically think 'porn'. Obviously the magazine at the heart of Heffner's empire is exactly that, though I've heard there are some good articles? Anyway, I'd be the last to criticize a non-stop party, maybe I'm jealous. But porn, partying, whatever Playboy means to us, it is intended for adults and those cute little ears have absolutely no place in children's lives.

Sometimes we're better off not knowing ---


Take hot dogs for example. Or frankfurters, not sure what the diff is anyway, but here's the point. We've all head the murmurings, urban myths if you will, that hot dogs are filled with rats toenails or puppydog tails, or other icky things. (Never sugar and spice and everything nice). But unless we're very squeamish, we keep eating our dogs with relish, no pun intended. Unless we get violently ill or turn colors, we keep buying our BallParks, Nathan's, Pearls, or Kayems, and cooking 'em up. Yum! Don't Ask - Don't Tell.

Now, consider the VERY BIG number of bugs that live in our yards, houses and, well -- face it -- our innards, and for the most part, we co-exist in blissful ignorance (or denial). Lately though, I have been dealing with spiders, especially with the rennovations in our basement.

We vacuumed up as many as we could, and used a *bomb* for the rest. All good. Then the workers did their magic. New laundry closet, game area, entertainment area, and still some decent storage space. Just as good as Ty Pennington, but with less hair product.

Anyway, in the last month or so, we've noticed a few more spiders setting up shop in our new rooms. This weekend, we've been trying to organize all of our stuff, the stuff that's been in storage for a couple months, to fit it into the new areas. Today, as I'm vacuuming up more spiders, I'm feeling rather brave, patting myself on the back for not freaking out that I could even have a spider in my hair, and just as long as it left within a reasonable amount of time, I could care less. Of course, that amount of time could really not exceed, like two or three seconds. (Not that brave) Anyway, with all the back patting, it took me a minute or two longer to register that something wispy and alien was on my person. But when I did feel it, I ran upstairs, stripping off my shirt as I went, yelling for my husband to check me for bugs. Nothing. I beg him to brush me off anyway, and finally I was satisfied and got dressed and returned to my chore.

I still looked out for the critters but tried to resume the brave act again. Worked ok until I accidentally knocked over a fluorescent light tube and when it popped, I freaked! Now I'm on a self-imposed *break* from work, but here's the weird thing. My writing work area has just become invaded with yellow jackets. We're not sure how they got in, perhaps through the AC? It looks like the cold is killing them though, but there are still a good dozen hearty souls left to organize fly-bys around me as I type. Crazy.

For another insight into the whole bug thing, check out what a blogging associate writes. You'll be glad you did.