Oh, yeah. Atom feed. I don't use them, so I have no way of knowing if I've screwed something up, but there it is.

Alright, here we go; Baxter v. Ford Motor Co., 12 P.2d 409 (Wash. 1932), appeal on remand at 35 P.2d 1090 (Wash 1934), a play in five acts:

Act I

Baxter: I'd like a sedan, please.
St. John Motors: Coming right up!
Ford: All of the new Ford cars have a Triplex shatter-proof glass windshield--so made that it will not fly or shatter under the hardest impact. Its extra margin of safety is something that every motorist should look for in the purchase of a car--especially where there are women and children.
Baxter: Awesome.

Act II

Baxter: Ahh, Snoqualmie pass sure is lovely in October.
Pebble from a passing car: Whee!
Glass in Baxter's windshield: *Shatter!*
Baxter: Oh my god, my eye!

Act III

Baxter's Lawyers: Ford, because your glass shattered, our client (who once had two lovely eyes) now has precisely one eye, and that eye ain't what it used to be, either. Please give him some money.
Ford: No, thanks. We sold our car to a dealership, not to Sam Baxter. Maybe the dealership would like to pay for his missing eye?
Supreme Court of Washington: The dealership had no way of knowing that you didn't use the right glass in the car. You said you were making the car with shatterproof glass; the glass shattered; pay up.

Act IV

Ford: Well, sure, the glass shattered, but it wasn't the wrong glass - in fact, it's the most shatterproof glass on the market! Sure, it shatters when struck by a pebble, but hey - you said it was the wrong glass.
Trial Judge: That's irrelevant. Please don't say that.
Ford: Aww. Ok, well, can you at least instruct the jury that "there is no proof of fraud in this case"?
Trial Judge: Sure thing.

Act V

Ford: They wouldn't let us say that we're liars! Make them let us say that we lied about the glass being shatterproof!
Supreme Court of Washington: You idiots, it doesn't matter if you're liars or merely incompetent, you're still responsible.
Ford: Ok, well, but the instructions to the jury were incorrect!
Supreme Court of Washington: Actually, the only incorrect instructions the jury received were the ones you requested about "no proof of fraud." Would you please just pay for the man's empty socket, already?

I really ought not to have spent an hour on this.

Some guy wrote:

Vegatarian vs. Carnivore? if a vegetarian and a carnivore were the last 2 things on earth (no plants, any food, any other people at all) then which one do you think would become the last thing on earth?

Does it make me a total hippy if my first response to that reasoning was "Sure, but they're both going to die, and which one do you think is going to die a murderer?" Of course, the guy who wrote that quote thinks murderers are downright awesome, so I guess we really come down on the same side after all.

(More hypotheticals: If Rush Limbaugh (carnivore) and Carl Lewis (often vegetarian) were the last two things on earth... If a vegetarian, a carnivore and a poisoned steak were the last three things on earth... Oh, never mind.)

Funky. That weird little game about "plug your first name into Google, pick your favorite image" that's going around... It turns out that I'm on the second page of Chris. Referrer logs show at least three people have selected me as one of the images; every one of them picked at least one other image. I guess I should just be glad that it's one of the less embarassing pictures of me.

Also, although this doesn't seem to rank very high on searches for Hitler (it's on page four if you search for "hitler.gif"), it somehow got found for use in a thread on a message board, where it prompted the response, "That is so hypnotic. Must_kill_jews_through_acting." I'm sad that I laughed so hard at something written by @ssmaster.

Every once in a while, I try to remember what songs make me feel like crying, and I never can. So I'll just mark it here when I hear one. So far:

Frances Ruffelle / Michael Ball, "A Little Fall of Rain"
Frances Ruffelle, "On My Own"
The Pogues, "Fairy Tale of New York"
Hedwig, "Origin of Love"

Ok, since apparently it wasn't clear from the entry, the reason I call out the rhinestone heels in all caps is not because I think they're a dreadfull fashion faux pas and am outraged that such trash would be allowed in a tapas restaurant, but because I was trying to replicate the effect they produced as their owner swiveled on the dance floor. I am certainly a pretentious, shallow snob, but it's unfair to think that because of my description of that particular outfit.

At least my dog loves me.

(Man, it's weird how unintentionally pissing off someone on lj and having them tell me just what a horrible person I am can send me into a deep funk for several hours.)

"I want a human! I... Want... A... Human! I want a human being on the fucking phone." -- cow orker, apparently dealing with a voice-driven phone menu.

Last night, we went to our neighborhood tapas restaurant. It was pretty amazing. The last time I was there, we got there just after work, and it was totally dead - we were the only people in the place, and by the time we left two hours later, there were only two other tables filled. That was quite a few years ago, and it was nice, but I've never ended up going back until last night.

We were there from 10p to 11p, last night, and it was totally packed. It was unbelievable how different the restaurant was. They've built a stage/dancefloor since the last time I was there, and they had a live band playing "the music of Spain and Latin America." (they had a banner up, and I could have sworn the banner listed a website, but Google isn't turning it up.) It's interesting how much more I enjoy the music of Spain and Latin America than the Crappy music of Mexican Restaurants.

What made it really fun was that people were making good use of the dance floor. It was elevated, right in front of the band, and couldn't have been more than 150 square feet. When we came in, it looked a bit crowded with 3 couples dancing, but at one point, there must have been more than 20 people up there. Every group/couple was doing their own thing, but they were all a lot of fun to watch.

The table next to us had four women, one of whom was dressed from shoulders to hips in leather, with 4" or so heels, and two men. One of the guys was wearing a nice, black suit, black dress shoes with RHINESTONE HEELS, and a diamond stud in one earlobe; the other was wearing a somewhat gaudy black suit with grey pinstripes. They both just screamed "We are suave players. Kneel before us." The band knew them, apparently, and even called out Mr. Rhinestone Heels as a master of the dance floor. It was disturbing, and yet awesome.

I'd forgotten what it was like to eat somewhere where people are having fun being involved in each other's business. Most of the time, I select restaurants based on how little I have to interact with my fellow humans, but this was really a blast. (Then again, I didn't really interact - I just sat around like a coward who doesn't know how to dance and watched. But it was a blast to see others interacting.)

Heeheehee.

Map your career path with the CIA!

Based on my responses, I may want to explore: Scientists, Engineers and Technologists (good match!) or Professional Positions (good match!).

The best part, though, is at the very bottom of the results page, where it says:

Finding any level of "match" on this instrument should not be construed as a guarantee or promise of securing a position at the CIA

Well, I finished the first draft of my trial brief. Just a few more beers, and I'll be ready to start proofreading!

Also. I suck at making poached eggs. I was told to add vinegar to the water, so I do that, but it doesn't seem to help - I end up with a yolk and some attached white, with the majority of the white either attached to the bottom of the pan or floating around in strands. This past weekend, I decided to try balsamic vinegar to see if it added a nice flavor. It does, but more importantly, it produces mighty shapely eggs. Awesome. No idea what's going on, there, but I need to stock up on balsamic vinegar.

And I probably need to actually pull out the good camera when I want to show how nice-looking something is, don't I? Oh well.

For lunch, today, I drove 30 miles to try deep fried cheese curds at Culver's. They were expensive, and not at all tasty. I couldn't finish the package. Just as well - I could feel my life expectancy plummet with every bite.