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Learned some­thing new today. Appa­rantly all those buf­falo make a valid sen­tence. Another fun one is: Police police police police police police. That is a valid sen­tence. The con­cept is some­thing like this: Who polices the police? The police police. So, who polices the police police? Go on. Put it together in your head. You should end up with a valid sen­tence con­tain­ing the word “police” six times. Crazy, eh?

I like this one the best. It has over 20 “and“‘s in a row: Wouldn’t the sen­tence ‘I want to put a hyphen between the words Fish and And and And and Chips in my Fish-And-Chips sign’ have been clearer if quo­ta­tion marks had been placed before Fish, and between Fish and and, and and and And, and And and and, and and and And, and And and and, and and and Chips, as well as after Chips?

So any­ways. Back to things that mat­ter. Or at least mat­ter more than buffalo.

The han­dle on my car broke today. Some genius thought it would be a good design to have the door opened by a tiny plas­tic peg. The tiny plas­tic peg decided it was tired of hav­ing to do all the work, so it jumped ship. Luck­ily I found it, and am in the process of glu­ing it back on. Thanks to Joey for his exper­tise in remov­ing the inside panel of the door, which I have failed to do (on numer­ous occa­sions) in the past (mainly due to a fear of break­ing something).

So Yodlee doesn’t suck any­more. I still like the old design bet­ter, and it hasn’t been able to syn­chro­nize my ING account for months, but it is quite usable now. Yay.

Our apart­ment com­plex has a TON of spi­ders. Nasty huge dis­gust­ing spider-web mak­ing annoy­ing spi­ders. So every cou­ple days I go out at night with my air­soft gun and I shoot them. Not all of them of course because there are tons, but the biggest gross­est ones in the most incon­ve­nient places (like in the walk­way) get a yel­low plas­tic pel­let in the belly. Its pretty gross cause they tend to explode and leave nasty spi­der guys every­where. But it gets rid of them. And is great stress relief.

So I’ve made my deci­sion. I’m going to get laser hair removal. Yup that’s right. Laser hair removal. I’m treat­ing it as an invest­ment to help my mind jus­tify the $1000 price tag. You see, I expect to live another 53 years (accord­ing to inac­cu­rate online sur­veys). So thats 636 more months of shav­ing. Fig­ure $5/month for the clean­ing fluid for my shaver, and $30/year (or $2.50/month) for foils, and a new shaver every, I dunno, lets say 5 years at about $120 ($2/month), I’ll be spend­ing about $6,042 over the rest of my life just on shav­ing. And then let’s assume 2 min­utes shave time a day. I think thats rather con­ser­v­a­tive, but we’ll use it any­way. That would mean over the rest of my life I’d spend over 26 days shav­ing. Crazy, huh? Other ben­e­fits include: less acne, no in-grown hairs, no five o’clock shadow, no scratchy-ness for the future Mrs., etc etc. So I think $1000 and a few hours of my life now are quite the invest­ment, con­sid­er­ing the ben­e­fits. Unless I die in a car crash or some­thing next year. Then it would suck and be a ter­ri­ble waste of money.

So lately I’ve been CRAZY sen­si­tive to light. Like insanely sen­si­tive. Even the glow of my mon­i­tor is upset­ting my eyes. My eyes are get­ting crazy red and irri­tated. It is frus­trat­ing. I have to con­stantly wear sun­glasses to keep my eyes look­ing nor­mal. But I’m pretty sure it isn’t pink­eye (yeah thats a com­pound word. I looked it up.) because it’s been com­ing and going for over a year now (the red­ness, not the sen­si­tiv­ity to light). And the doc­tor gave me some med­icated drops but they didn’t help, so it must be some­thing else. But who knows? Until some­thing more seri­ous hap­pens, or the sen­si­tiv­ity gets worse, no point in wast­ing time/money hav­ing a doc­tor tell you to avoid light. That time/money could be used on get­ting unwanted hair removed.

Come to think of it, I’ve always kind of had this fear that I’ve got can­cer. It would have to be some crazy slow can­cer, because I’ve had this vague fear for years and years, but it has always sort of been there, mak­ing me worry any­time I get sick or have a weird “symp­tom”. Well maybe not can­cer. Think­ing about it more, its just a vague fear that I’m sick. That some­thing isn’t right. That life is going to turn into some lame TV spe­cial where my death causes a deep spiritual/emotional stir­ring in the peo­ple I love, and then is quickly for­got­ten by the next episode. But thats life I guess. Always dying, some­times liv­ing, even­tu­ally forgotten.

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