evany's extended cake mix
(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)
get the latest
get into my head from twitter:
Monday, Feb. 09, 2004 | link
moons over my spammy
About three weeks ago, I signed up for Knowspam.net and so far, I've been spared from a grand total of 13,278 farm-fresh girls and only-just-expired bottles of Mexican penicillin.
With all the spam filtered out of my life, however, I find myself left with depressingly few real, live emails. My inbox is an icy tundra that welcomes maybe one or two bona fide emails each day.
It's gotten so I actually kind of miss the spam, or at least the little thrill of who-can-it-be-now potential that I got every time that little envelope appeared in the corner of my screen, even though the thrill was almost always met with the disappointment of discount toner supplies. My capacity for unsinkable optimism can be so depressing.
I've added a few more of the freaky Sharpie tees to my oeuvre, and the evidence can be viewed in detail by paying a visit to the updated "my crafty" section of the "context" realm of the evany.com universe. (Those of you unable to negotiate the turns and whims of my labyrinthian site navigation can just leap directly to the new loveseatee and mousetee pages.)
more pokers in the fire!
Another one of the Pokersavvy articles I've edited went live recently: Click in as Ignatius J. Reilly reveals what lives under the ever-expanding rock that is the poker blogging community in his "Poker Blog Roundup".
Friday night I went ice skating, and even though my rental skates were tight in all sorts of awkward places, and even though I couldn't wear my highly skating-appropriate ear holsters because I managed to leave one behind at work, it was still completely great and fun. Something about the cool breezes blowing off the ice combined with the Ice Cube on the hi-fi urging me to put my ass into it combined with the pressing danger of almost guaranteed dust-biting ... well it all came together into some magical force that made going around and around in circles 100 percent exhilarating. If they could just invent a gym treadmill that employed those same factors, boy would I trot the shit out of it. It wouldn't be that difficult, just add speakers to pump music directly at you, and fans to blast cold air all over you, and some sort of jerking and lurching mechanism set to ignite every random once in awhile and topple runners over into surprised and thrilled and exhilarated and sweating little heaps.