There and Back Again
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Third Age Correspondence
Proper dwarves offer their services before they leave.
The Grey Havens - 04/03/2004 Long Time Gone - 22/02/2004 Only for Now - 04/02/2004 The Neverland - 19/01/2004 There's no times at all, just the New York Times - 15/01/2004 Links and RingsNo Shame Pieces Untitled Story Other Writings |
15/10/2002 - 4:27 p.m. Death and the Socks Not by Ariel Dorfman, and considerably less gripping, but, still. So, I got the free website to have a place where I could store images, right? Now I have no pictures, and I can't get into the ruddy thing and I don't know why. It pops up something that appears to have to do with Death and My Socks. Or at least, what else can I assume when I keep getting this message? 500 Internal Server Error So I guess I just picked a shitty site, but it was free and it was there. Suggestions and advice are loved and adored and perhaps I will do something nice for you. Thank you to Guildenstern for the most clever and funny diary entry I have ever read in my life. Ever. Period. If you don't get it, it's OK, you're just not as well read. You know, I just noticed, I have a sizable callous from where my mouse hand rubs the table. (Note to all Sherlockians, this would be the modern equivelent of shiny cuffs.) There is a bone there and everything, but it is considerably larger and hornier (that is the correct usage) than the other one. For anyone who was interested in the secret behind a lava lamp but could never get hold of a bottle opener, it's wax and oil. Jay worked at a lava lamp company back in 1972 (when they were cool and they commonly made them four feet high to put in office buildings and restaurants) and told us about it. So, hypothetically, with wax, oil and a lightbulb, you could make your own lava lamp. I was up in the grid today. The grid is about four stories up in the SWT (I counted 78 steps between stage level and grid level) and is quite seriously a metal grid. When you stand on it and look through your toes, you can clearly see the stage floor several hundred feet below. I'm not afraid of heights, just of falling from them, so being up there didn't bother me. Our job however, was a little on the unnerving side. We were supposed to take off weights for a fly. These weights are about 20 lbs. apiece, they are about a foot and a half by four inches by one inch, with two curved notches on either end so that they fit in the weight cages. Now, we were up in the grid, and supposed to put ten of these on. Below us was the stage floor, far far below. To load the weights, it is necessary to lean out from the grid over the rail (the name of the place all the flies are located) and load these things. They have to go in at an angle, so you can only hold them with one hand. There you are, four stories from the floor holding a 20 lb object with one hand and suspending it long enough to get it jiggled into place. Of course, the rail is supposed to be cleared, so there's no chances of us killing anyone. However, should one of those suckers fall, it would probably do significant damage. That's what I was afraid of. I'd rather not do significant damage to a theatre my first year in it. So I did a few, until my little T-Rex arms gave up. Still, I'm the first person from my Fundies class who has been up on the grid, ha ha! Fortune cookie of the day: Everyone is interested in people who are interested in them.�From the Shire, down the Anduin, to Mordor
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