archenemy

Where does the sidewalk end?

Sounds like a new job title is coming our way.

Yes, I think when people retire, their identities continue to develop. No, they do not lose their professional identity. How could they? They did work for decades, right? And although they may not punch the timeclock anymore, the way they work with people, they way they approach projects or tasks in their personal lives has been shaped by what they did in the professional world. Furthermore, people who worked from home, at home, or for only two years also have this professional aspect to their personality as well. The only reason I include this is that the current party line is that "I am not my job"; and I say bullshit to that. You really are partly defined by the work you do. To think your identity is not largely affected by this is just too woo-woo for me to buy into.

no, but that is why I referred to family. I would indeed feel a lack of identity without family (blood ties or however one defines their family) and without a career (which is how I spend a great deal of my time and energy).

Not to get all serious, but yes, I think that things like one's family and one's profession have a great deal to do with one's identity.

So where is a list of the new traffic laws that did pass? For example, I hear on the radio it is illegal to text while driving. But are hands-free thingys required now? Where can I get a true list of this shit?

I'll goose ya to get ya started.

We have a ping pong table at work. Personally, I was a big fan of Pong when I was a kid.

You first tell me my choice is not to grow (which is the one I agree with; i.e. stop breeding) and then tell me I don't make enough pups to keep the pool going. I know all about the history of Ballard--I have a lot of really great books and some old Scande friends that I get great stories from. Even better if enjoyed with an Aquavit.

Just a side FYI: Woolite will eat through elastic. So if you have any elastic bands in your gear, don't wash with the Woolite.

I am sensing some hostility here.

I am one of the people who works in the information industry that the article makes fun of--I see the humor in that. But I am also of Scandinavian stock and I moved to Ballard seven years ago because I could get the food I grew up on and talk with other Danes. It also had the right density and so I was willing to drive farther in order to live in a community of single family homes. I am completely dismayed at how fast everything changed. I am utterly disgusted that new people moving in (and I used to be the new guy--a number of my neighbors have had their homes 30 years) say they want to be there b/c they like the feeling of the area but then go ahead and change everything by building condo after condo. I'm so saddened by it that I will always fight against the high-density thing (outside of city centers) however I can.

Ratt was so cool.

Yeah, I'll be crying right into my Ensure.

I am always amazed that men assume we women will give a shit what you think when we are older. Believe it or not, as women mature into full-membership individuals, we tend to care less and less what you men think about our appearance. So a tat gets blurry just as the rest of our edges get blurry--so what? If you can't find something better than that to measure a person's beauty by, then I honestly feel sorry for you.

Want to ride bikes?

Stop drinking Minx! I figure if a person has tatoos should they mind if they are judged by the tatoos subject/quality? No. I'd hope that most of us with tattoos have one thing in common. We don't give a raw fuck what you think.

Why the fuck would I care about what someone looks like when they are old and wrinkled? And by the time I am old and wrinkled, I plan to not give a shit about how anyone looks--tattoos or not.

This is not really an issue of child support. It is an issue of contracts. If your contract with a person states that they do not have to pay you in the future, then they do not have to pay you. Seems simple enough.

How big of you.

yummy

I just cannot picture why any man would want the job of taking one of the most beautiful parts of a woman's body and squishing the hell out of it until it hurts her; all while hoping that he doesn't have to tell her she might die from that little spot that showed up on the film. And then to make sexual jokes about it later must be the greatest achievement.

Come again?

I love tats. The more the better.