Okay, not guilt pangs. Something else.

We saw the Kings play Denver on Tuesday. Free food and beer was afoot in our PARTY ZONE. Feeling punchy, I decided to accidentaly walk away with a NBA Playoffs chair cover in my coat. When we got to our seats, I began to have a terrible feeling that someone would notice the chair cover missing and peg me as the suspect and somehow punish me.

I told Greg*: I feel really bad that I took this. Maybe I should give it back.
Greg: You don't feel bad. You're just afraid of getting caught.

And you know what, he was totally right. Often times I have confused my own feelings of regret-empathy with the fear of being caught doing something wrong.
And this kind of goes into my photo haitus. I don't necesarrily feel bad about stealing bandwith by linking directly to someone elses pictures, I'm just afraid of getting caught. I guess I'm lucky that someone hasn't found out what I'm doing and then decided to do something about it.


*Greg. I have to think before I say his name because he looks an awful lot like someone I knew named Aaron.

Tiny magnets.

If I'm not too lazy, I hope to make tiny magnets for my friends this winter holiday. I saw the plans here. I love that site. I just wish I had the energy to be so crafty.

Photos are on haitus. I have been having guilt pangs for linking directly to other peoples photos.

Midweek pleasantries.



Because I'm trying to keep this updated but am feeling lazy (more or less), here are some things that helped me to get out of bed today.

>Panic In Detroit by David Bowie.
>Hanukkah candy.
>Kings.
>Free lunch today at Celestin's with my favorite newspaper.
>Victoria by the Kinks. But changing the song to say Napoleon instead.
>Satsuma mandarins.
>My launch station kicks the crap out of your launch station.
>And don't forget: Oh wait...I just forgot.
>Mini bottles of champagne with a straw.
>"Oh no you didn't" vs. "O no ya didnae."

zzzzz.

So long, Al.



Poor Albert (French: Al-bear) P. Doggstein died during our recording session on Saturday. The ghost of him lives on in Amy's bass overdubs. While this was very upsetting for all of us, and our hearts go out to his owner Shannon, I have to admit that I am somewhat relieved that during his autopsy, the vet did not determine that a errant guitar pick, earphone jack, or shard of guitar string was the cause of death.
Albert succumbed to an undetected stomach tumor at the age of 12.