te>Couldn’t we all use a little John Denver right about now? We could:

Aye Calypso!
The place's you've been to
The things that you've shown us
The stories you tell
Aye Calypso!
I sing to your spirit
The men who have served you
So long and so well

Right. Why am I still at work?

8:47 p.m.

San Francisco Moment:

Guy in a Jeep Cherokee passed me this morning with his radio blaring. He stopped for the light and as the engine roar quieted, I heard, “THE NASDAQ COMPOSITE INDEX PLUNGED TO ITS LOWEST LEVEL IN 15 MONTHS…” He was blasting NPR. Rock on, suburban white guy.

10:16 a.m.

Stuff that creeps me out, in order of creepiness:

• Russian grandmother sells her living grandson for organ harvesting.
• Japanese men are signing up for an online service that lets them woo a virtual woman over email. They must court the woman, and if they’re good enough the relationship will, ah, progress. If not, the “woman” dumps them.
• This museum has an exhibit on the human body that includes fake human feces floating in a toilet. Kids love it.

2:11 p.m.

With my ears plugged from the cold, I mistook an ambulence siren for an aria and looked around for the fat lady.

10:28 a.m.

You know what’s not pleasant? Drinking at the water fountain and feeling the stream of water dip when someone flushes the toilet in the bathroom next door.

I saw a commercial this weekend for an E-Z Bake Oven CD-ROM. Two girls sat side by side giggling in anticipation over the rising cake… on their monitor.

GAHHHH! First they take away candy cigarettes, then toys that spark, and now this? Excuse me, Orwellian Overlords? The whole point of the E-Z Bake oven is to mix the tap water and pseudo-chocolate powder, spill most of the “batter” on the floor while you’re pouring it into tiny pans, and let it bake for three hours under the scorching heat of a 60-watt lightbulb. Now that’s entertainment. The day I catch my child watching an animated cake and clapping her hands in glee, I’m unplugging the Telescreen and sitting down to wait for the Thought Police to take me away.

3:30 p.m.

Walking me to work this morning, Fred kept nudging me into the parking meters. I finally asked if I could switch sides with him. He seemed frustrated and said, “I know I’m supposed to walk on the curb side, but in San Francisco all the bums are on the inside.” Good point.

10:06 a.m.

When I was in college, I had an art history professor who would dock our papers an entire grade if they didn’t have titles. So I wouldn’t forget, I wrote “The Coolest Title in the World Goes Here” on my title page. Of course, I never got back to it and I turned the paper in. The best part is, the paper was on “art in public spaces.” Tragically, if one leaves the “l” out of public, spell check doesn’t catch it. Even if you leave the “l” out two or three times.

11 p.m.

Fat Chicks in Party Hats will make you feel like a creep for laughing. The barely English captions are so incredibly random that you can’t stop scrolling. The caption for this one reads, “my date for the prom did taste like choclate! BURP! oh i am so alone.”

Stolen from Metafilter.

3:50 p.m.

This site’s creators aren’t disturbed by the lude nature of amateur porn photography, but the zebra-print drapes must go.
Obscene Interiors has painstakingly cropped out all the extraneous nudity, so you can experience the full horror of beaded avacado bedspreads without distraction.

11:04 a.m.