Fred’s book, and when the final changes had been made, I needed to print out a copy to send the printer (he’s getting a copy burned to cd, but needs the printed-out copy to compare to). Before dinner last night I decided to get the printing started, and asked Fred “How many pages do you print at a time?” The printer attached to my computer is the “good” one.
“Sixty-four,” he said, as if it were the obvious answer.
I looked at him, eyebrows raised, thinking “I’m a good printer. Definitely a good printer”, but said nothing.
He sighed. “Because everybody knows that 256 (the total number of pages in the book) is 2 to the 8th, which is 2 to the 6th times two squared, which is 64 times 4, so you should print four blocks of 64 pages.”
Of course.
We were watching TV Saturday night –
World’s Craziest Police Chases (something like that – it was hosted by
Sheriff John Bunnell (Ret.), anyway) on FOX, and I glanced up from my magazine when a commercial for
Paradise Hotel came on. Now, I’m not really interested in the show and haven’t watched it at all, thus I don’t know anyone who’s on it. Someone’s face flashed across the screen, and caught my attention.
“Hey,” I said to Fred. “That looks like the bug-eyed chick from
Love Cruise!”
Fred knew exactly who I was talking about, but hadn’t seen the girl in the commercial, so we forgot about it pretty quickly. It came on again during the next commercial break, and I made sure to pay attention.
“That’s her!” I insisted. “That’s bug-eyed chick!” Naturally, I had to run in and look up the show online. Also naturally, I had to steal her picture from the FOX webpage and slap it up here for y’all to see.
Ah me, I do love the Trash TV.
Since for once Fred wasn’t in the mood to go kayaking or hiking yesterday, we hung around the house. I scrubbed out the bird bath (which I’d just scrubbed out two or three days earlier, but was already growing green crap) and refilled it, repotted a plant, did some straightening around the house, and he ran out to do some errands.
When he got back, he announced that he’d rented a couple of things for us to watch – specifically the
Band of Brothers dvd containing episode #9, which he wanted to see. Did he want to see episode #9 because I’d happened to see the last 20 minutes of it when it was actually on HBO, which I thought was just amazing?
Why, no. No indeed. The one and only reason he wanted to see episode #9 was because
Rachel Lucas mentioned it
some time ago, and apparently her opinion on the matter is more important because birds of a political feather flock together.
Hmph.
(Amazing episode, seriously. If you can only watch one episode of
Band of Brothers, stock up on the Kleenex and watch #9.)
It’s pretty hard to take
Ron Livingston seriously, though. Even in a serious role he always looks like he’s going to raise an eyebrow, smirk, and make a smart-ass comment.
(Of course, that’s what I like about him.)
Saturday, we did various and sundry errands, including running by Sam’s to buy some saltines (we were going to the park to feed ducks and geese and fish and pigeons, oh my!). While there, I checked to see if they had the newest Harry Potter. I’d meant to buy it during the week last week but never did get around to it. Sam’s had a copy, though, so we bought it along with the saltines, creamer, teabags, and hot dog buns (Sam’s is like that – you go in for one thing, come out with four. At least we spent less than $100, which almost NEVER happens).
I like Harry Potter, but I’m not as excited about the new book as everyone else seems to be. I need to read it right away, though, or I’ll inevitably run across a spoiler telling who dies in this book, and the surprise will be ruined for me.
I understand Harry’s much darker in this book. That can only be a good thing.
Babies! You better believe I thought about sticking one in my purse and bringing it home with me…
Another baby, and a big-ass fish.
This guy came hauling ass up to us, demanding crackers. When we weren’t fast enough with the crackers, he’d start biting our feet. When he was done eating, he hauled ass away from us as quickly as he’d run up to us.
Pet store kitties are
here.]]>