<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357</id><updated>2011-07-08T05:51:31.663-04:00</updated><category term='Doctor Who'/><category term='Believer'/><category term='English'/><category term='books'/><category term='ENG830 Sarh Ferguson'/><category term='Peach Pit Press Archie McPhee'/><category term='ENG830 e-mail'/><category term='movie theaters'/><category term='needlepoint'/><category term='Nick Hornby'/><category term='Dr. Who'/><category term='Literature'/><category term='Emily Post'/><category term='junk mail Slate'/><category term='writing'/><category term='Shrek'/><category term='Sci Fi Channel'/><category term='Puleo&apos;s ice cream'/><category term='McSweeney&apos;s'/><category term='UK'/><category term='sato silly pet photo'/><category term='manners'/><category term='iMac Apple ENG830'/><category term='Pirates of the Carribean'/><title type='text'>robotgirlie</title><subtitle type='html'>Writer. Artist. Gal-about-town.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-6228142596839196454</id><published>2009-08-27T15:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T15:14:39.162-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Puleo&apos;s ice cream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sato silly pet photo'/><title type='text'>For Those Who Enjoy Silly Pet Photos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Spba5hdTASI/AAAAAAAAAD4/9ZvxpeIi3HE/s1600-h/3836672372_6b86ae738f_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 172px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Spba5hdTASI/AAAAAAAAAD4/9ZvxpeIi3HE/s400/3836672372_6b86ae738f_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374723887081914658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spike loves vanilla ice cream. Enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-6228142596839196454?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/6228142596839196454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=6228142596839196454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6228142596839196454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6228142596839196454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2009/08/for-those-who-enjoy-silly-pet-photos.html' title='For Those Who Enjoy Silly Pet Photos...'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Spba5hdTASI/AAAAAAAAAD4/9ZvxpeIi3HE/s72-c/3836672372_6b86ae738f_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-3615113637367385225</id><published>2009-03-31T09:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T09:52:14.285-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Haiku for the day</title><content type='html'>Drowning in clutter&lt;br /&gt;My dog won't go in my room.&lt;br /&gt;Where's my blue sweater?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-3615113637367385225?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/3615113637367385225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=3615113637367385225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/3615113637367385225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/3615113637367385225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2009/03/haiku-for-day.html' title='Haiku for the day'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-8621064620448218393</id><published>2008-12-14T15:46:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T21:14:40.854-05:00</updated><title type='text'>End Of The Semester</title><content type='html'>This is my last blog post for the online graduate class I've been taking.  I will make an effort to continue to blog regularly after this class is over.  ENG 830 has made me fall in love with my own blog all over again!  I read an article for this class by Stephen Krause in which a student asked the question, "How empowering is is to be forced to blog?"  I laughed at that when I read it, but now I can state definitively that it &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; empowering to be "forced' to blog.   The article made a case for blogging as a method for training writers. The unidentified student who voiced the original opinion was in an online class similar to the one I'm taking now.  Krause's 2004 class  was ultimately a failure.  i think if he were to teach it again today, student response would be completely different.  The blog explosion that has been taking place has been phenomenal.  Everyone has a blog these days.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never gave much thought to blogging other than as a way to satisfy my own ego via some humorous, relevant and irreverent content--with a healthy dose of snark thrown in.  I didn't see blogging as a way to hone my use of language but that lesson is one that I have taken to heart after one semester of "forced" blogging.  Any chance to use, and improve my use of, language is valuable.  As an English major, I can use my blog as another academic outlet.  As a fiction writer in training, my electronic musings could very well end up in some of my work. Blogs are yet another tool through which writing/English teachers can force their students to sit down and write.  If the experience is a good one, those students will continue to use the tools at their disposal.  I spend another 60-120 minutes a week blogging--two hours of writing on top of the creative writing and journaling I do every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End-of-semester final thoughts--the snarky ones.  I'll save the real ones for the class discussion boards:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facebook is fun and so far, stalker-free (knock wood)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazon's Kindle is SOOO Star Trek:TNG. Remember how the Enterprise crew read books on tiny little handheld screens? OMG, it's like the future, only now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Apple.  I hate Apple.  Now that my older iPod no longer functions, thanks to my plugging it into my new laptop thinking it would work (what was I thinking?!) I'm leaning more toward Hate every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I prefer email over IMing.  I never, ever text.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eddiebauer.com"&gt;Eddie Bauer&lt;/a&gt; emailed me a $10 gift certificate good toward any item.  Because I now had a discount, I bought a sweater I wouldn't have otherwise  bought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very, very tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-8621064620448218393?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/8621064620448218393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=8621064620448218393' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/8621064620448218393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/8621064620448218393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/12/end-of-semester.html' title='End Of The Semester'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-613155626570101411</id><published>2008-12-11T13:23:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T15:44:21.621-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reconnecting Through Facebook</title><content type='html'>Last week I blogged about the fun and frolicking Facebook has afforded me in recent months.  While Battle of the Bands and virtual Christmas trees are enormously entertaining, I can finally see why social networking is so popular. For me personally, the one redeeming aspect of Facebook, beyond the fun and games and endless poking (I know, I keep harping on the poking) is the fact that I have been able to reconnect with a few friends I thought I'd never hear from again.  I know I mentioned this in last week's post, but I want to be a little more specific today while discussing this one aspect in which Facebook has enriched my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in college I had a friend named Dave.  He was a hometown friend rather than a college friend so I saw him during breaks and all summer long. Dave, along with my sister Lyn and I, was a musician, a guitar player.  Dave,  Lyn and I used to jam a lot, mostly  renditions of our favorite songs, or reaaally bad, amateurish "compositions" (I use the term loosely) of our own.  Most of the time we would play in our friend Ion's basement.  Looking back twenty-two years later, our rendition of the surf classic "Wipeout" wasn't so bad.  Hey, at least we didn't do "Stairway to Heaven."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not long after I joined Facebook in September, I received a Friend request from Dave.  He was typing in names of long-lost friends to see if anyone popped up and discovered I was now on Facebook.  I have to admit I've done the same thing since joining, and luckily, the old friends I basically cyberstalked weren't offended. We've chatted a few times since reconnecting--twenty-two years is a lot of time to catch up on.  It's been great hearing about my friend's life and his family.   Dave pokes me every single day.  I poke back.  He sends Drinks requests often.  This is one of the games I just can't stop playing. The more drinks you send and receive, the more drinks are unlocked. The game's goal is to get drunk--in a virtual sense, of course.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the beauty of the electronic age.  I have been able to correspond with someone I thought I'd never hear from again.  Our friendship is conducted entirely electronically.  We leave messages on Facebook, write on each other's walls and e-mail occasionally.  Contact ranges from a simple comment on a silly status update to long emails where we catch each other up on our lives.  We haven't really gotten to the telephone stage yet for some reason.  Maybe, after twenty + years, electronic communication is enough.  Maybe we'll work our way up to real-life communication.  My friend asked me if I was heading down to CT for Christmas.  For the first time in 6 years I'm staying here for Christmas.  Otherwise, we would have met somewhere in person.  I'm sad not to be able to see Dave in person, but for now, "e-communication" as I'll call it, is enough.  We check in on each other almost every day.  We share photos, joke with each other, reminisce--all online.  For now, it's plenty.  The internet has brought us back into each other's lives, even if it is in a smaller sense than the friendship we once had.  But thanks to Facebook, we're sort of picking up right where we left off.  We each have the same sense of humor, same sensibilities.  It's nice to know there really was no falling out between us, we just drifted off on our separate lives.  It happens.  But Dave and I are cool.  We'll probably meet up again sometime in the near future. For now, I'm off to Facebook to send him another ornament for his virtual Christmas tree.  And poke him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-613155626570101411?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/613155626570101411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=613155626570101411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/613155626570101411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/613155626570101411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/12/reconnecting-through-facebook.html' title='Reconnecting Through Facebook'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-9158055228616788061</id><published>2008-12-07T20:03:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T21:43:04.969-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in Facebooking</title><content type='html'>I began my first completely online college course back in September.  While the course has been fraught with some technological challenges for me, the one requirement I was initially opposed to was having the join Facebook.  I'm basically a loner in the real world so naturally I'm much the same in the virtual, anonymous world of the internet.  I didn't want to join a social networking site.  Facebook is for kids, i told myself, dominated by teens, tweens and twentysomethings in order to keep track of their friends in between the constant texting and iPod usage.   Mainly, though, I was reluctant to join Facebook out of fear of stalking and harassment.  Turned off by the stories of MySpace and Facebook incidents, the last thing I wanted to do was join and post my real name out there for anyone to see.  At first I found the site daunting.  The layout confused me.  Someone from college--someone i was not particularly fond of--tried to Friend me.  I ignored the request until he sent it again.  I had to formally Ignore him.  It made me feel like a jerk.  Particularly annoying were the ever-present ads.  I found the fact that they were sometimes tailored to the hobbies I listed in my profile to be a little creepy.  And for some reason, Facebook feels the need to remind me on a daily basis that I am over Forty and single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast-forward three months.  I love Facebook!  I have to admit: I loved Facebook almost immediately.  Right off the bat I had a handful of friends as each member of the class added their classmates to their Friends list.  There's something gratifying about receiving a Friend request.  It makes me feel popular.  I wasn't prepared for how addictive Facebook is.  The Friending with a capital F! The games! The Gifts! The Poking! Where does it all end?  In the three months I've been on Facebook I've reconnected with a number of old friends I never thought I'd hear from again.  Within the first week online I received a Friend request from a guy I went to high school with.  Soon after that a college friend contacted me.  When I saw another mutual college friend in her Friends list I contacted her.   Two friends of mine in Scotland contacted me as well.  It's nice to be in contact with these people again.  I didn't have any falling-out with any of them, life simply got in the way and we all just drifted on to other things and places.  It happens. So far no stalking or harassment has taken place! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was unprepared for the extent of Facebook's networking capabilities.  Not only individuals use Facebook; organizations, indie publications and music labels maintain an online presence.   Know who else is on Facebook? Rock bands!  I now get up-t-date information on tours, album releases and surprise appearances from my favorite artists.  Most of the bands only have the option to become a Fan  rather than Friend, but Denver-based Dressy Bessy actually has the Friend option.  And they accepted my Friend request! Now I, along with 4,325 other people, can count Dressy Bessy as a friend.  It's sad, but it's all I have in my otherwise pathetic life.  Another thing I was not expecting: groups.  There are groups for everything, from fans of certain TV shows to rock bands to political organizations.  Groups are fun! The SSC English department, Grad School English majors and our literary publications have Facebook groups.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poking around Facebook is fun.  Reconnecting with real-life friends has been rewarding even in the short amount of time I've been on Facebook.  The time-wasting aspects are fun, such as Battle of the Bands and Drink Requests.  I'm getting annoyed at being bombarded with the Li'l Green Patch requests though.  Beyond Facebook's initial playground-like euphoria, Facebook's benefits are becoming clear.  Facebook fulfills a basic social need.  For me, it's been an enhancement to my reall-world life rather than a replacement. As long as that is the case, I will continue to network and socialize.  Beyond the internet opportunities to network are everywhere.  Indie publishers abound on Facebook and along with them, the opportunity to submit work and to connect with people already doing what I want to do: write.  Event invitations are opportunities to meet locally in person and participate in open mikes, poetry slams and other events.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally see why Facebook, and social networking online, is so popular.  And yes dear Facebook, now that I've had some time to mull it over, I &lt;i&gt;would&lt;/i&gt; be interested in meeting a hot over-forty doctor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-9158055228616788061?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/9158055228616788061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=9158055228616788061' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/9158055228616788061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/9158055228616788061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/12/adventures-in-facebooking.html' title='Adventures in Facebooking'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-2318917171175323364</id><published>2008-11-20T11:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T13:18:20.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a travesty!</title><content type='html'>I spotted a photocopied sign posted around campus yesterday and for the first time I truly wished my cell phone could take pictures.  The sign was posted by a (presumably undergrad) student and read as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOST OR STOLEN! ENG### TEXTBOOK GUIDE TO CONCISE WRITING&lt;br /&gt;Please return this book. I need it.  If you seen or stole it please call 978-###-#### so I can come get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the word "you" someone wrote" 've."  After the word "stole" they wrote "n."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sign ended with typed all caps exclaiming "I NEED THIS BOOK!!!"  I had an evil urge to write in "Obviously!" but I took the high road and walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've noticed a lot of bloggers and forum posters are using the word "loose" in place of "lose" and "loosing" in place of "losing."  For example: "What do you do when you loose one of your knitting needles?"  Feeling obnoxious and superior to these people, I would secretly chuckle at their misguided use of language.  But the more I encounted the mistake the more paranoid I became.  The final straw was when I saw the word used in &lt;a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/tv/2008/11/18/2008-11-18_cast_frets_about_loosing_pushing_daisies.html"&gt;this headline&lt;/a&gt; in the &lt;i&gt;NY Daily News&lt;/i&gt; online the other day.  Is something happening within our linguistic conventions in which this is a now an acceptable practice?  I was beginning to fear for my academic sanity when, while googling the link for the &lt;i&gt;Daily News&lt;/i&gt; article, I spotted &lt;a href="http://www.cjr.org/language_corner/when_loosing_is_winning.php"&gt;this little nugget&lt;/a&gt; from the &lt;i&gt;Columbia Journalism Review&lt;/i&gt;.  Thank you Merrill Perlman!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm on the subject, when did "addicting"--as in "I can't stop playing this video game, it's very addicting"--become a word?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-2318917171175323364?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/2318917171175323364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=2318917171175323364' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/2318917171175323364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/2318917171175323364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-travesty.html' title='It&apos;s a travesty!'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-7565111995808095317</id><published>2008-11-16T21:56:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T22:55:53.601-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wiki cool! Or, Adventures In Wikipedia</title><content type='html'>Wikis are the topic of this week's second post.  Before I started this class the only wiki I had ever contributed to was, of course, &lt;a href="http://www.wikipedia.org/"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt; and that was only a minor one-time contribution.  If you must know, I contributed a vital piece of information regarding the British cult sci-fi TV show &lt;i&gt;Doctor Who&lt;/i&gt;.  Specifically, that he has  tried and failed to get to two 20th-century rock concerts that we know of--Elvis Presley in the 1950s and Ian Dury and the Blockheads in 1979--before intergalactic evildoers diverted the good Doctor and his time machine.  Pretty useless I know.   So this leads me to wonder where exactly Wikipedia's true value lies.  Is it in providing complete and accurate research information on relevant social, political and academic topics? Or is it merely a wonderland in which every detail-obsessed fanboy or -girl can go nuts over their favorite TV show/superhero/rock band?  The amount of detailed information collected on &lt;i&gt;Star Wars&lt;/i&gt; alone is staggering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me Wikipedia is my go-to source for all things pop culture.   Has a celebrity just died? I head over to Wikipedia.  Have I just discovered a new band? I'll look them up on Wikipedia.   Did my current celebrity crush just break up with his girlfriend? Sweet. He did.  I never use Wikipedia for serious academic purposes due to the potential for misinformation, although I did consult it briefly once to see how &lt;i&gt;The Merchant of Venice&lt;/i&gt; ends in order to make a minor point in a short essay.  Wikipedia is a lot of fun, but I approach it with a constant underlying mistrust of the information it contains.  Because that information can come from anybody sitting at home in front of their computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wikis in a controlled academic setting can be very valuable indeed.  I believe that, despite the best intentions, when the information-gathering forum is opened up to include anyone and everyone--that's when you have to take everything you read with a grain of salt.  Because Wikipedia is written by human beings.  And human beings can be jerks.  They can also be wrong on a number of occasions.  There's something irresistible about seeing one's contribution in print or online;  this brings the potential for someone to rush to post information.  Perhaps a date is wrong or some other piece of information wasn't researched.  Wiki's innovation is the ability to remove or correct data as well as add it.  But who's watching the watchers?  I have a very cynical outlook at times, and I often wonder if celebrities are writing/adding to their own Wikipedia entries.  I keep thinking of the &lt;i&gt;Simpsons&lt;/i&gt; episode where Snake the criminal is outraged because someone edited his Wikipedia entry.  As a result he wants them eliminated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a list of some of my recent Wikipedia searches, just as a matter of interest:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Crichton.  He was married six times.  Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;Hellboy.  The comic book/movie franchise.  As a newcomer, it was a good place to get an overview of what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;Manhasset, NY.  This is my hometown.  I just wanted to see what Wiki had to say about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did one other search recently to see just how all-encompassing Wikipedia is. I have a friend in Scotland who is what I'll refer to as a minor regional celebrity.  He's a DJ for a radio station that broadcasts all over the North of Scotland.  Just out of curiosity one day, I typed in his name to see if he has a Wikipedia entry. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Ingram_(broadcaster)"&gt;He does.&lt;/a&gt;. I haven't asked him yet if he wrote his own entry, but i just might. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Should I help Wikipedia by expanding it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-7565111995808095317?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/7565111995808095317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=7565111995808095317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7565111995808095317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7565111995808095317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/11/wiki-cool-or-adventures-in-wikipedia.html' title='Wiki cool! Or, Adventures In Wikipedia'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-7580560458085129451</id><published>2008-11-14T20:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T21:55:58.619-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogger Down.</title><content type='html'>Not Blogger the site, me, the, uh, blogger of this blog.  Thanks to a nasty cold that i suspect may in fact be the flu, I've been down for the count since Saturday.  I managed to make it into work on Monday, but by Tuesday I was feeling a lot worse.  I called out sick from work the entire rest of this week and spent it hopping between my armchair in front of the TV to my bed.  my schedule is basically the same every day: get up at 1:00 PM, eat some toast.  Go back to bed at 4:30.  Get up at 7:00 or maybe 8:00, eat some soup, go back to bed.  Needless to say, homework, housework and the major apartment tidying I need to do before Thanksgiving guests arrive did not get done.  This really annoyed me because I have so many things I need to get done that I could almost cry.  Rather than improve from one day to the next, I'm actually getting sicker.  I have a new computer and some new gadgets i need to learn how to use, and all I did this week was sleep.  Last night I had what I'm convinced was a Nyquil-inspired nightmare.  In this dream I received an invitation to a former co-worker's Christmas party.  I hadn't worked with him for a couple of years so I thought it was weird, but in a rare moment of "gee, I'll go out and have some fun," I went to the party,  (Note: co-worker in the dream is in fact someone that didn't exist in real life.)  When i got to the party he looked at me in surprise and asked me what I was doing there.&lt;br /&gt;Me: You sent me an invitation.&lt;br /&gt;Host: *awkward pause*I did? Oh. I must not have updated my email address list for a couple of years.&lt;br /&gt;Me: . . .&lt;br /&gt;Host: Well, since you're here, its' good to see you.  You can stay if you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I bothering you with this when I should be ruminating on Instant Messaging and its role in either the enhancement or destruction of society as we know it?  This story brings me to one of the great mysteries of our time: the flu shot.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't take.  Sometimes the doctors prepare the wrong flu shot and everyone that got that shot is at risk anyway.  And how come people who get the flu shot are protected from the flu, but they can still get a seriously nasty cold?  I got my flu shot three weeks ago, and by Sunday I had to make an emergency trip for cold supplies and ended up at Walmart, where you can buy Dayquil and Nyquil without having to sign a form promising that you won't use the medication as part of a home meth lab.  If I'm not actually suffering from the flu, then this is one seriously grotesque cold.  If it is the flu, I'm majorly annoyed.  It wouldn't be the first time I got the flu after receiving the flu shot.  A manager in my office got her flu shot last week at work.  I and some other co-workers were surprised because we didn't see another email about it.  "The executives get the &lt;i&gt;real&lt;/i&gt; flu shot," I quipped.  Maybe I was closer to the truth than I could have guessed? ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-7580560458085129451?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/7580560458085129451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=7580560458085129451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7580560458085129451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7580560458085129451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/11/blogger-down.html' title='Blogger Down.'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-797146728275784486</id><published>2008-11-02T22:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T22:34:29.258-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grrr...Ahhhh...Grrr...Ahhh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SQ5s04yuTjI/AAAAAAAAADk/AZy_ehMm8ko/s1600-h/angry-emoticon.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 51px; height: 50px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SQ5s04yuTjI/AAAAAAAAADk/AZy_ehMm8ko/s320/angry-emoticon.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264264670296821298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technology hates me.  So does freakin' Apple! is it too much to ask to have a working computer and reliable internet access?  You know the new laptop I wrote about earlier this week? I tried to go online on Friday and I kept getting a message telling me that Safari could not find any servers or websites.  I was connected to the internet but Safari couldn't find anything.  So I had to call in a state of panic last night.  I had to lug my new laptop back to the Apple store. I explained that the internet worked for one day and now it didn't.  And you know what? The guy was truly stumped.  He tried a lot of different things I confess I don't understand.  Using Airport, Safari worked fine. But I've heard a lot of things about its susceptibility to hacking so I wasn't eager to switch.  It took him an hour to fix it.  he finally reconfigured the network access information, or whatever, and got it working on dial up.  He told me that Airport isn't as vulnerable as I'd heard, so I asked him what I would do if I wanted to use it.  He showed me the "taco" icon at the top of my screen and gave me a quick lesson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i got home I was anxious to make sure the computer worked.  I found that the technician had not only left the computer on, thus draining the battery, he left the setting on Airport.  I switched it back to the modem, logged on...and got nowhere.  Safari was once again not working.  After a few choice curse words I noticed there was a choice for configuring the network.  I had nothing to lose, so for the name I just typed in Earthlink, typed in the access phone number and my account information and hit apply.  Thank God, it worked!  Was this all I had to do in the first place, or did the technician fix something that would have prevented me from doing this? And why did the Earthlink helpdesk guy &lt;i&gt;in India&lt;/i&gt; not tell me to do this?  I am SO over Earthlink at this point.  I'll save the outsourcing lecture for another time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buying a new computer was supposed to end my problems and, to be honest, it's fun being able to buy a new toy.  But I'm annoyed and tired, and behind on work for this class because i couldn't do everything I needed to on the library and computer lab machines.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought my 2nd generation iPod to the store because I had stored all my fonts on it so I could just copy the fancy ones I'd installed over the years over to my new machine.  Easy, right? Apple had other ideas.  The Macbook just can't recognize the older iPod.  My sister has an iBook and an older iPod that my new computer does recognize (she transferred some music videos onto it so I know it works).  maybe i can plug the older iPod into her iBook, copy the fonts onto her slightly-less-older iPod, then plug it into my computer.  I could install all my fonts, disk-by-disk if I have to but honestly, this process should not be this difficult.  It's been a hassle.  And I'm not a technological idiot! I know my way fairly well around a computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've cleared off my computer desk, rearranged it with my new stuff, and added some decor to the wall in that area.  I'm going to relax, turn this computer off now, and starting tomorrow, with a new week, I'm going to enjoy my new stuff, get caught up, and go forward.  Sorry to rant on and on about all my techno-problems!  Thanks for reading. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-797146728275784486?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/797146728275784486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=797146728275784486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/797146728275784486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/797146728275784486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/11/grrrahhhhgrrrahhh.html' title='Grrr...Ahhhh...Grrr...Ahhh...'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SQ5s04yuTjI/AAAAAAAAADk/AZy_ehMm8ko/s72-c/angry-emoticon.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-9138229930505658692</id><published>2008-10-29T15:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T23:01:11.811-05:00</updated><title type='text'>FINALLY.</title><content type='html'>I'm technologically viable again.  I detailed my iMac woes at the start of this semester, &lt;i&gt;ad nauseam&lt;/i&gt;.  After eight years my beloved Strawberry iMac was out-of-date and barely functional.  This week, I took the plunge, gritted my teeth, went to the Apple store and bought a new laptop.  It's faster and holds twice as much memory out of the box than the iMac did after I bought and installed extra RAM over the years in order to max it out.  Thanks to a rebate I got a combination color photo printer/scanner for free!  On the down side I'll have to buy upgrades for Photoshop and Illustrator, but it will be worth it in the end. Oh yeah--and I had to buy an external USB modem because the computer doesn't have an internal modem.  I had to drive back to the Apple store because I didn't for one minute think that a new computer &lt;i&gt;wouldn't&lt;/i&gt; have an internal modem in it.  Yes, I still use dial-up.  I don't want to hear it.  Someday I'll be dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century, but for now I don't want to be bothered with having to switch ISPs, etc.  Sucks to be me, I know.  But at least I got a free printer.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Having a working computer means I can now resume blogging, a task made increasingly difficult on my old Mac.  I like blogging.  It's a conceit, I know, and I know that no one reads them, but there's something satisfying about publishing my own online journal.  I actually have three blogs.  &lt;a href="http://www.rubyplaid.com"&gt;My knitting blog&lt;/a&gt; gets the most hits thanks to the many knitting and craft forums I belong to.  This blog is my "smart blog." I started it when I became serious about writing again. I mostly review books and zines and other literary topics, though recaps of the latest Doctor Who episode crop up quite often.  I have a sewing and stitching blog as well, but it only has a couple of posts on it over the past two years, mainly because I'm still just learning how to sew (no time!) and I don't do other needlework as often as I knit.  I won't bother to post a link.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most people may find this funny, but knitting blogs are hot right now. No, really! Google "knitting blog" and it returns 531,000 results.  Everyone and their Goth kid sister has a knitting blog  these days. I confess that, as soon as I became aware of the phenomenon three years ago, I had to have one, too.  I think for me the appeal is part showing-off, part bonding with like-minded people all over the world, part archive.  Knitting blogs are a wonderful medium that lets people share patterns and tips, ask for and receive help from one another, and share resources and stories of who in their family taught them to knit.  Knitting is passed on to a new generation as Internet-savvy teens and twenty-somethings flock to the craft.  In turn, these bloggers are sharing tips to older knitters on how to set up their own blogs, how to upload pictures, and how to have more fun using the internet as a tool for exploring an ancient craft.  Sharing--and blogging--is a wonderful thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In case anyone's interested, here are some of the more "famous" knitting blogs out there:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yarnharlot.ca"&gt;The Yarn Harlot&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.queerjoe.blogspot.com"&gt;Queer Joe's Knitting Blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.itsapurlman.com"&gt;It's A Purl, Man&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-9138229930505658692?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/9138229930505658692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=9138229930505658692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/9138229930505658692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/9138229930505658692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/11/finally.html' title='FINALLY.'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-668305691711759294</id><published>2008-10-15T17:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T17:21:18.154-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emily Post'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='manners'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ENG830 Sarh Ferguson'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"It's all about self-absorption today. The BlackBerry makes you go into yourself. The computer makes you go into yourself. E-mail makes you go into yourself," she says. "It's a huge world out there. We must just stop and get out there and be nice to somebody."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/news/2008-10-12-emily-post_N.htm"&gt;This quote&lt;/a&gt; appeared in today's &lt;i&gt;USAToday&lt;/i&gt; in an article on Emily Post and the deplorable decline of manners in today's society. Who's being quoted? It's none other than Sarah Ferguson, Dutchess of York. I especially like the first sentence. It sums up my general feelings on why there is a distinct lack of manners today, especially in the younger (teens and twenties) generation. The first assignment for this class was to speculate on the role email plays in society. Is email dead? Is it being replaced by other, faster forms of electronic communication? My posts to the online class forum were very similar to the thoughts expressed by Sarah Ferguson. the self-absorption part hits home for me, since I deal with the self-absorbed on a daily basis, and have long attributed it to the instant gratification obtained by modern forms of communication people have at their fingertips. That's really all I have to say for the moment. No big, meaningful sociological exploration of the topic for now, I just wanted to indulge in a small sense of validation. I guess we redheads think alike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Fergie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-668305691711759294?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/668305691711759294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=668305691711759294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/668305691711759294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/668305691711759294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-all-about-self-absorption-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-404286070982657734</id><published>2008-10-09T13:40:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T14:29:45.039-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Deprivation...Must...Type...Paper...</title><content type='html'>I detest weird, obnoxious dreams.  Over the years I've had what I call recurrent "school anxiety" dreams.  They first started in the 90s when I was trying to get through art school.  I enjoyed my classes, but a combination of illness, lack of funds, and scheduling problems plagued my experience.  I began to dream that I was back in college, where I finished my undergrad, but I was my current age.  In my dreams I had a car (I didn't when I was an undergrad), I was an adult (I use the term loosely) and I was living on campus on some sort of sabbatical from work.  In these dreams I endlessly searched for either my dorm room or my mailbox.  I rarely found my dorm room, and when I did, there was something not-quite-right about it.  Either the door wouldn't lock, or it only had 3 walls instead of four, opening up into someome else's room, that sort of thing.  As for the mailbox, I never found that at all.   I'm not a psychiatrist but there's some sort of message here.  Either A.) I'm trying to find my room, which I believe represents a sense of belonging, or my "center" if you will.  Or B) I'm trying to find my mailbox, and I never do.  Clearly, I'm "not getting the message," right?!  The most astounding part of this recurrent dream is the scenery: it has been exactly the same every time I have this type of dream over the past 10 years or so.  The campus doesn't look quite like it did in real life, but it looks exactly the same in every dream.  It's always night.  Sometimes I'm driving around campus or through town on my way back to campus.  I marvel at how things have changed, or how things have stayed the same in this very vivid nocturnal landscape.  I also marvel that I'm driving at all since I didn't have a car or a license when I was in school.  In all these dreams, no one likes me.  I attribute it to the fact that I'm 10 (and now 20) years older than everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These dreams stopped once I finished art school, but they returned with a vengeance last fall when I entered graduate school.   The scenery and premise of the dream remain the same ten years later.  This time I attribute them to a general academic anxiety.   I had design projects at art school but no research papers.  When I started graduate school it was easily nineteen years since I'd written a paper or engaged in heavy research.  I was nervous about the coursework, and the very words Graduate School struck a bit of fear into my heart.   This time around I tend to find my dorm room more often than not, but it's still a little off.  Sometimes the walls are slanted.  Often I get to the back of the room to find that it adjoins another room with no dividing wall.  I have dreams where I'm in a new apartment that does the same thing--opens into another apartment--and it really ticks me off.  I'm sure there' s something subconcious about that but I can't figure out what it could be.  Feel free to email me with your suggestions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had a very different but equally puzzling school-related dream.  I was sitting on the concrete area near an outside swimming pool.  My sister was with me.  A lot of other students were sitting there also.  It was supposed to be my current school but didn't resemble it at all.  Right behind the pool was a football field.  A game was just about to get underway, there were swimmers waiting to use the pool.  Then a man came along and stood in front of all of us seated on the concrete.  He started to give a lecture.  "If America is an unaltruistic wheel that has run out of grease," he began, "then what does that mean for the rest of  the world?"  Brilliant! I thought.  Then someone whispered in my ear and I woke up.  So what does this latest dream mean?  Apart from the odd but promising sound bite I have no clue.  I'm sure the professor's words are inspired by the current economic crisis; they certainly reflect my opinion that perhaps America should look toward solving its own problems before spending money to help other countries.  (God that makes me sound so conservative. Or does it?) At least this time I was part of a classroom discussion.  Maybe it signifies that I no longer feel like an outsider who doesn't belong, or deserve to be in, school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dreams are nothing if not multimedia extravaganzas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-404286070982657734?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/404286070982657734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=404286070982657734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/404286070982657734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/404286070982657734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/10/sleep-deprivationmusttypepaper.html' title='Sleep Deprivation...Must...Type...Paper...'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-7642110884248100193</id><published>2008-09-30T08:26:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T14:19:03.668-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't usually wax political but...</title><content type='html'>The President is going to go on tv again today in another attempt to push his Wall Street bailout plan. Please, we already know what he wants to do. Obviously the nation has a major problem with it. Bush didn't get what he wanted, so he's going to go on tv again so he can harangue the nation into accepting what he wants, so we in turn will cajole Congress. It's so typical of the protect-the-rich attitude Bush's administration is famous for. Maybe, if the government had cracked down on the out-of-control increases to home loan interest rates before they got out of control, we wouldn't be in this mess. Perhaps if the lenders we're expected to bail out had lowered their interest rates as more and more of their customers went into bankruptcy and foreclosure, we wouldn't have this problem. These lenders are sitting back while Bush fights their battle, knowing full well they are the ones responsible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Switching gears: I'm still trying to finish reading Phillip Pullman's &lt;em&gt;The Golden Compass&lt;/em&gt;.  I keep picturing Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig as I read.  I have lots of assignments due by the end of this week so I won't get to it until Monday, if then.  I also have 1.5 fingerless gloves knitted.  I need to finish that as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still utterly enchanted by Facebook!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's raining cats and dogs right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need some chocolate pudding.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-7642110884248100193?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/7642110884248100193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=7642110884248100193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7642110884248100193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7642110884248100193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-dont-usually-wax-political-but.html' title='I don&apos;t usually wax political but...'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-8421992124889460</id><published>2008-09-26T09:51:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T14:49:23.866-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peach Pit Press Archie McPhee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='iMac Apple ENG830'/><title type='text'>My Life: A trail of abandonded websites.</title><content type='html'>I'll start with a quick follow-up to two issues I've been blogging about this semester: the demise of my iMac and my annoyance at the liberties retailers take with my email address. I mentioned earlier that I was so angry at Apple's refusal to service its older-model computers that I was tempted to fire off an email blasting their lack of regard for long-time customers. Apple headed me off by sending an email to inquire whether or not my visit to the Genius Bar was satisfactory. Here was my chance. I politely made my opinions known, and checked off that I did not want a follow-up phone call to discuss my experience. I generally expected a half-hearted and ultimately meaningless email to follow, something along the lines of "we're sorry you were not entirely satisfied, yada yada yada." What I received this week was an email from Apple advertising "iMac: the perfect desktop computer for your home." Right.  Because a) I gave the Apple store my email address for the purpose of confirming an appointment, and b) they now know I need a new computer...With that, I'll lay this subject to rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week's assignment is the World Wide Web itself! I'm currently working on my personal website--the first one I've created in years. I remember how excited I was when I first went online way back in 1993. There were thousands of websites, or, as most individuals called their personal website back then, homepages, to browse through. I was desperate to join in and build a homepage of my own. But first, I needed to decide on a subject. I needed to find my "thing." I joined Geocities early on, delighted with their little virtual "neighborhoods" that would host a user's web address. After much consideration I decided to go with a Riot Grrl theme. Thus, Grrlzine was born. Armed with an HTML guide in one hand and a web graphics book in the other, I put together what I considered to be a pretty snazzy--and snarky--website. And I broke all the rules regarding good web design in the process. Animated GIFs? Check. Busy and confusing backgrounds? Check. Haphazard image placement? Check. If that obnoxious dancing baby animation had been around in 1993 I probably would have included it.  In the meantime, a tiled photograph of Diana Rigg as her Avengers character Emma Peel--rendered in hot pink and black contrast in Photoshop--would have to do.  I updated Grrlzine slavishly for a few months until it was brought to my attention that another woman was publishing an actual paper zine called Grrlzine--and had been for quite some time. She got there first, and she was way cooler than me. Undaunted, I switched tactics and launched Avenue A soon afterward. My new "thing" would be a NYC-centric art and pop-culture guide. I was way out of my element. Apart from a virtual art gallery featuring my artwork and photos, and a lame list of my favorite shops and restaurants in NYC, there wasn't much content.  Eventually I lost interest, and gave up on contributing to the internet.  Sure, millions of other people with nothing interesting or important to contribute continued to contribute, and that's one of the pros as well as one of the cons of the internet, but for me, well, I simply gave up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days I prefer the quick-edit instant satisfaction of the blog's format.  I'll discuss my blogging habits later on in the semester.  For now, I've dragged out the HTML guide (thank you Visual Quickstart Guides!) as I immerse myself in yet another crash course in coding.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-8421992124889460?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/8421992124889460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=8421992124889460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/8421992124889460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/8421992124889460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-life-trail-of-abandonded-websites.html' title='My Life: A trail of abandonded websites.'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-4947646587132200448</id><published>2008-09-21T19:46:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T20:50:50.931-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmmmm...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Hey, guess what people? I'm now a part-owner of a multi-million dollar failure of a financing company! But I can't keep track of which one I own. AIG? Lehman Brothers? I forget. I, along with all of you, get to bail out the rich greedy b*****ds who have enormous mansions, pensions and bank accounts by taking on the bad debt they accrued by constantly raising the adjustable interest rate on home mortgages. All because I'm an American taxpayer. Whatever. Just put it on my tab, along with the war in Iraq.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to supplement a class assignment I spent a lot of time this week perusing the mind-boggling variety of Yahoo Groups. Before I began this class, I belonged to one, count it, one Yahoo group run by &lt;a href="http://www.foolsmansion.com/"&gt;a local clothing and accessory store&lt;/a&gt;. I like getting updates on their sales and their cool evening events such as art shows and DJ parties. I still belong to only one Yahoo Group because, frankly, I get enough notices in my email inbox already, ranging from yarn sales to fabric sales to a fitness center begging me to rejoin. The latter is particularly annoying, but it illustrates why I used my Yahoo email in the first place: to keep the utter CRAP away from my real email address. I use Yahoo for a variety of functions: blog-generated email, email from retailers and e-tailers, the Yellow Pages, and internet radio. Anything is possible on Yahoo, yet I never use it for its original purpose: that of a search engine. In the early 1990s, in those heady days when I eagerly explored the vast network known as the internet, I flipped between Yahoo, Lycos and a third search engine whose name I can't even remember. Yahoo quickly became my search engine of choice. This lasted through to the year 2000 when a young upstart by the name of Google came along. I first heard of Google in a USAToday article describing a new trend in which people were "googling" blind dates before the first meeting to see what information came up. I've been in love ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SNbrzyPKKvI/AAAAAAAAADc/aQRQeUGn6sE/s1600-h/17698.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248641690638101234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SNbrzyPKKvI/AAAAAAAAADc/aQRQeUGn6sE/s200/17698.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I searched the Yahoo Groups for quite a while this week. While I'm tempted to join a Harry Potter knit-along in which every participant is knitting the Ron Weasley giant block-letter initial sweater, I ultimately decided I didn't have the time, or the inclination to keep up with various knitters all over the world, kindred spirits though we may be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-4947646587132200448?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/4947646587132200448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=4947646587132200448' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4947646587132200448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4947646587132200448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/09/hmmmm.html' title='Hmmmm...'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SNbrzyPKKvI/AAAAAAAAADc/aQRQeUGn6sE/s72-c/17698.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-6555457957978989152</id><published>2008-09-17T13:10:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T17:27:13.984-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Wave makes me sad.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SNE6OE1D1KI/AAAAAAAAACU/h9sr6P0QZKo/s1600-h/41PNR6GY6NL__SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247039054352209058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SNE6OE1D1KI/AAAAAAAAACU/h9sr6P0QZKo/s200/41PNR6GY6NL__SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Thanks to internet radio stations like &lt;a href="http://www.pandora.com/"&gt;Pandora&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.yahoo.com/"&gt;Yahoo&lt;/a&gt; I can enjoy a trip down memory lane by tuning into my favorite music from the '80s. Neon accessories, rubber bracelets and spikey hair may be a thing of the past, but thanks to internet radio, I can hear Boy George asking "Do You Really Want to Hold Me?" or Devo exhorting us to "Whip It" at any given hour of the day. This is a good thing. Music fans anywhere can choose from a virtually unlimited list of genres and create their own playlists and stations. Thanks to the all-encompassing, cross-media capabilities of the internet, these stations link to band biographies, similar artists for fans to check out, and, most importantly, links through which customers can purchase their favorite music. No matter how bizarre, old, or obscure, if it's included on an internet radio station, it's been made available to purchase. This is also a good thing! For years I have been searching for the original 7"single version of an obscure new wave song "Nowhere Girl" by an equally obscure British new wave band called B-Movie. Long out of print, my only option was to scour used record stores and Ebay in hopes of scoring a less-than-pristine vinyl copy, or to buy an entire compilation album that may or may not contain other songs I like. The soundtrack to the film 200 Cigarettes has the original version, and is not a bad album altogether, but the film I relied on to relive the glory days of new wave so disappointed me that I refuse to buy its soundtrack! Any movie in which Casey Affleck and Courtney Love are the couple you're supposed to be rooting for can't be good. But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was in high school during new wave's heyday of 1980-1984. When my high school glory days came to an end, so, did new wave's. The terms "Alternative" and "Modern Rock" sprang up to describe the slightly left-of-center rock music.  Thanks to the internet, I have created my own New Wave station, chock full of the music of my youth, with its gloriously off-kilter aesthetic. My station includes "Nowhere Girl" in its original synth-heavy glory, as well as a host of other songs that meant a lot to me when I was growing up. When Pandora.com played this song, it was a good twenty years or so since I'd heard the original version in its entirety.As soon as I hear the synthesized opening bars of "Nowhere Girl" I'm immediately transported to the bedroom in the house in which I grew up. I spent a lot of evenings sitting in my beanbag chair listening to the only new wave station in the NYC tri-state area. It was great to hear this long-lost musical gem again, but I had a rather unanticipated reaction when I heard it: I teared up! Yup, I got all &lt;em&gt;verklempt &lt;/em&gt;as soon as I heard it. The point of my story? Thanks to internet radio, I've discovered just how much the nostalgia I feel for my teenage years can get to me.  These days I find myself older, slightly wiser, and still trying to decide what I want to do when I grow up.  New wave transports me back to a time in which I had very few worries, a time in which I was certain things would be different when I was older.  Hearing my favorite songs these days reminds me of the hope and certainty I felt as a 14-year-old looking to the future. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not the up-tempo songs that make me sad, though it's great to hear them as well.  Among the dozens of fly-by-night, one-hit-wonders the new wave era spawned, a lot of good music made its way over here from across the pond, even if the American audiences generally didn't appreciate it.  "Oblivion," "The Bugle Sounds Again," anything from Aztec Camera's High Land Hard Rain album still makes me somewhat emotional.  This album was a Christmas gift from my mom in 1984.  I listened to it for two months straight through Christmas break and into the second semester of my freshman year of college before It hit the fan, so to speak.  My parents' divorce and various related issues clouded the rest of my college years and changed my life irrevocably.  This album reminds me of the last carefree days before things got ugly.  "Wishful Thinking" by China Crisis, with its gentle orchestral qualities does the same thing.  The Bongos, vintage Elvis Costello, Squeeze, all these bands take me back to my high school and early college days, and that makes me a little sad becasue as adults, we all, to varying degrees, wish we could see things the way we did when we were younger.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-6555457957978989152?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/6555457957978989152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=6555457957978989152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6555457957978989152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6555457957978989152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-wave-makes-me-sad.html' title='New Wave makes me sad.'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SNE6OE1D1KI/AAAAAAAAACU/h9sr6P0QZKo/s72-c/41PNR6GY6NL__SL500_AA240_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-6423916860759755348</id><published>2008-09-14T14:14:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T15:25:36.114-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ENG830 e-mail'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='junk mail Slate'/><title type='text'>E-mail: How Much Is Too Much?</title><content type='html'>In the November 14, 2007 issue of &lt;i&gt;Slate&lt;/i&gt; Chad Lorenz announced the &lt;a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2177969"&gt;death of e-mail&lt;/a&gt;. He has obviously never shopped at &lt;a href="http://www.bathandbodyworks/"&gt;Bath and Body Works&lt;/a&gt;. I gave this store my e-mail address when they told me they would &lt;i&gt;occasionally&lt;/i&gt; email coupons throughout the year. That was two weeks ago. I've received an e-mail from them literally every other day since August 28. They e-mailed me twice in one day on September 3rd. If e-mail is truly on its way out as Lorenz suggests, no one told the promotion and sales department at Bath and Body Works. Lorenz's position on e-mail, along with this week's other articles and discussions really made me stop and think about a form of communication that we all take for granted by now. Our study of e-mail made me stop and think, for the first time, about how much e-mail I receive from places where I've shopped, both in-store and online. It finally dawned on me: if Igive someone else permission to e-mail me, just how far does that permission extend? How much is too much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a sample of some of the e-mail titles in my Inbox this week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bath and Body Works new Black Amythest Fragrance is here!&lt;br /&gt;Find the car you've been looking for!&lt;br /&gt;Bath and Body Works Free Aromatherapy Offer Inside!&lt;br /&gt;Best suprise are in bedroom (&lt;i&gt;sic&lt;/i&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;and finally,&lt;br /&gt;Four Goats and a hank of cashmere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last title isn't as distressing as it sounds, by the way, since it comes from a knitting website I subcribe to.  The third title presumably is somewhat distressing. I obviously didn't open it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bath and Body Works is really beginning to annoy me, and that has me postulating on the abuses of e-mail. Maybe their e-mailing privileges should be revoked. As I mentioned above, I've received e-mail from them every other day advertising limited-time discounts and special offers, most of which are available through online purchases only. If this company seriously thinks I have the money and inclination to buy bath products every other day, maybe they should stick their heads out the window and take a look at how much gas and groceries cost lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The knitting website I subscribe to is even worse than Bath and Body Works. &lt;a href="http://www.knittingdaily.com/"&gt;Knitting Daily&lt;/a&gt; is an online knitting forum run by Interweave Knits in order to supplement its quarterly magazine. Knitting Daily posts articles and surveys on knitting trends, new fibers and pattern and technical help. The editors update it on a daily basis. They also e-mail me on a daily basis to let me know that the daily update has been posted to their site. Daily. I implicitely gave them permission to contact me when I voluntarily submitted my e-mail in order to register for this free site. But again, just because I gave them my e-mail, does that give a company license to bombard me with electronic communication? In Knitting Daily's case, I can't see what purpose is served by such frequent contact. I as a subscriber am fully aware that they update the website every day.  I already pay this company good money through my subscriptions to two of their publications.  What good does e-mailing me so often do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the same with every shop I've ever purchased from. Old Navy, Eddie Bauer, and Lands End have been offering me special deals for weeks, if only I'll buy any pair of pants or spend $100 on outerwear. So once again I'll ask: When I give someone permission to e-mail me, are there limits on how far that permission extends?  Apparently, the assumption out there is that there are no limits.  Of course I can always unsubscribe to the worst offenders, but occasionally there are times in which I genuinely wish to be notified on sales or other promotions.  So it seems that I have no choice but to put up with all the superfluous e-mails, or to get cut out of the loop altogether.  As luck would have it, I could use some new pants, so I'll put up with all the e-mail for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-6423916860759755348?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/6423916860759755348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=6423916860759755348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6423916860759755348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6423916860759755348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/09/e-mail-how-much-is-too-much.html' title='E-mail: How Much Is Too Much?'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-7771954586886337306</id><published>2008-09-10T12:39:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T08:29:30.201-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='iMac Apple ENG830'/><title type='text'>Strawberry Whine (Continued)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SMf6y5SMSFI/AAAAAAAAACM/16L7ebcUYNo/s1600-h/apple_imac_colors.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244436043373758546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SMf6y5SMSFI/AAAAAAAAACM/16L7ebcUYNo/s200/apple_imac_colors.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For today's post I'll continue my ruminations on the need to keep up with the internet's technological advances. In the post below I whined extensively about my 8-year-old iMac's obsolescence. I don't mind the slow operating system on my iMac as much as I mind the fact that the damned thing requires more RAM and updated operating software just to be able to surf the internet. Eventually the hardware could no longer keep up with the software. I have 1 gig. of RAM in this computer, and I use it for everything. Internet surfing, paper writing, graphic design and my creative writing projects. Right now I have all of my projects safely saved onto Zip disks, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to access them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I brought my iMac to the Apple store two nights ago. The technician took one look at it and said, "I don't know what I can do for this model because we stopped making it . I'll check it out for you but technically we're not even allowed to look at these anymore." Thank you, Apple customer service. I'll save the rant about deserving appropriate technical support no matter which Apple I own for another time. To my surprise the computer started up without any problems, but when he plugged the Zip drive in, everything froze and disappeared. I was a little confused, but at least the technician didn't charge me for looking at it, and he got my zip drive out of my zip disk as well. The drive worked on his newer iMac without any problems, so obviously, I'm facing the inevitable task of having to replace my computer sooner or later. No one actually laughed at my iMac, but a few techies shook their heads in a mixture of pity and disgust, and one young salesgirl went "AWWWW!" and patted my iMac in the same way one pats a dog's head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this is my dilemma: Do I continue to buy new equipment every 5-8 years? It looks like I don't have a choice, which means most internet-savvy consumers don't, either. Part of the iMac's problem is OS10.4, which is running on a G3 processor. The technician told me that 10.1 would be better to use with such an old processor, but I bought the upgrade because I could no longer access the internet using 10.1. As I said in my earlier post, living without internet access is not an option. 24-7 on-demand access to news, entertainment and shopping is taken for granted these days. I refuse to live without the ability to check my course materials, shop online, and communicate with friends and family from the comfort of my own home. The internet has brought the entire world to everyone's doorstep, and once we've become accustomed to that, there's no turning back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I attended Parsons School of Design (of Project Runway fame!) in the nineties.  Every single computer lab on campus was wall-to-wall blueberry iMacs, which means, of course, that many major learning institutions invested huge amounts of cash on Apple technology.  I wonder how much Parsons had to spend to replace all those Blueberries.  It doesn't seem very customer-friendly to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm fast approaching middle-age and already I can feel the crank letter-writer coming out in me.  I'm almost tempted to write a letter--well, by letter I mean e-mail--to Apple letting them know how I feel.  In the meantime, I'm not sure what to do.  This sounds stupid, but I haven't plugged in my iMac since I brought it home from the Apple store.  I'll get around to it this weekend.  If I can still use it for everything except accessing what's on my zip disks, I'll take that for now.  But if that' the case, what will I do about my novel-in-progress?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-7771954586886337306?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/7771954586886337306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=7771954586886337306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7771954586886337306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7771954586886337306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/09/strawberry-whine-continued.html' title='Strawberry Whine (Continued)'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/SMf6y5SMSFI/AAAAAAAAACM/16L7ebcUYNo/s72-c/apple_imac_colors.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-1322323460117459410</id><published>2008-09-07T20:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T23:36:03.281-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Online Rhetoric, but first, please stand by...</title><content type='html'>Just in time for ENG830: I have somehow offended the computer gods.  I'm experiencing technical difficulties.  It's just my luck that my computer conks out one week before starting a completely online course.  My 8-year-old Strawberry iMac gave out last week.  The problem? None of the icons shows up on the desktop.  Not the hard drive, not the zip drive, not the folder full of downloaded knitting patterns and, especially horrifying, not the folder full of my papers for the summer class on American Lit I just completed.  My Doctor Who wallpaper still displays, however, so I'm hopeful that my hard drive is all right, just playing hard-to-get (to).   I lugged my computer down a flight of stairs and out to my car and drove to Best Buy to seek help from the Geek Squad.   The security personnel tagged my iMac as soon as i went through the automatic doors so it wouldn't look like I was stealing it.  Seriously? Does anyone even sell these things anymore? Remember these iMacs? They came in those weird round shapes and fun fruit "flavors?" The "geeks" at the Geek Squad told me they couldn't do anything for such an old Mac, so I had to make an appointment with the "geniuses" at Apple's "Genius Bar." Don't get me started.   Keep in mind, this is the same store at which a salesman once asked me if &lt;i&gt;I knew whether or not my computer had a CD slot&lt;/i&gt;. Don't get me started on that either, or I'll go on and on about the CompUSA salesman who called me "baby" and made fun of the Mac "dinosaur" CompUSA fell all over themselves to sell me nine months earlier... . I fully expect to be laughed at when I walk in with my old-school iMac.  Pre-internal CD burner.  As a die-hard Mac fan, this is a problem I've continually had to face: Apple's annoying habit of rendering their own technology obsolete 6-9 months after it was introduced.  My iMac is old, but perfectly serviceable.  In the meantime I've had to resort to my backup computer: an equally obsolete iBook.  I'm already having problems.  I can't sign up with AIM or Facebook through Safari, and, after spending an hour writing this post, Safari quit (&lt;i&gt;unexpectedly &lt;/i&gt;mind you) and I had to seek out my sister's newer iBook to finish. For some reason, Blogger's autosave didn't work on my computer.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What's the point of my anecdote? I share it to ask this question with my ENG830 class: how important is it to keep up with online technology, and what happens to those who can't or won't keep up?  I'm hoping the loss of my computer is only temporary, yet already I'm scrambling to work online.  Buying a new computer is not an option at this point, so I would have to use communal computer labs in order to do my work.   Internet access is not only increasingly convenient, it is increasingly unavoidable.  The Department of Education has made its financial aid application available only online, along with the paperwork for federal student loans. Entertainment, news and media are available 24/7, and updated at all hours of the day or night.  Internet enhancement is becoming more and more integral to modern life.  My technical difficulties transcend inconvenience; they are affecting my ability to participate in a prescribed component of my graduate degree.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realize my problem stems from my personal computing platform of choice.  Apple is notorious for relentlessly updating its technology, but on the other hand, I've avoided major software bugs and steered clear of Vista-like debacles.   The fact is, it is extremely necessary to keep up with online technology.  As we move toward a more technological society, the internet is at the forefront of information dissemination.   Breaking news and video are available online almost instantaneously.  Students can complete courses or even entire degrees online.  The lack of internet access is not an option.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What about those who are wary of the internet?  I work with students and parents, and there is a great deal of resistance to the internet among parents and older, non-traditional students.  The people i speak with who can't or won't keep up with the internet are frustrated at the lack of options when taking care of their academic paperwork.  I have heard anger, frustration, fear and even sheer panic in their voices.  I can understand their frustration, but to me it's equally frustrating as I try to help them.  The truth is, the speed and universal accessibility of the internet is changing information and administration.  Whether it's a university or a government office, once the decision to go completely online has been made, it's up to everyone to learn how to keep up, or be left behind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm hoping my iMac is repairable.  Instant access to entertainment and news is a necessity, not a luxury, and I have become accustomed to having it available in the comfort of my own home.  I'll spend as much time at the computer labs as I need to, but in the end, I'll probably do what I have to--and spend what I have to--to surf from the comfort of home once again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-1322323460117459410?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/1322323460117459410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=1322323460117459410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/1322323460117459410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/1322323460117459410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/09/online-rhetoric-but-first-please-stand.html' title='Online Rhetoric, but first, please stand by...'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-4685659755861461721</id><published>2008-02-19T15:43:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T16:29:33.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading is Fundamental</title><content type='html'>I'm sorta cranky today. I'm back at work after a nice, relaxing mini-vacation I planned around yesterdays Federal "holiday," I slept so deeply that I was overtired when I woke up this morning, and I'm now harboring a slightly irrational fear that some of that massively recalled beef has ended up in the meatballs of my Italian Wedding soup from the office cafeteria. Not to worry, though, says the FDA. We all consumed most of that meat long ago! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My birthday fell during my mini-vacation; it was, in fact, the point of my taking a few days off in the first place. Thanks to my sister, I picked out three books for my birthday presents: One I have been dying to buy for months, one I knew of and recently decided I wanted to read, and one spur-of-the-moment choice that looked pretty interesting. Thanks to my school work I haven't had much time to read purely for fun. I finished two of the books during my time off. I'll give you a mini-review of them, shall I?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/R7tDqUwnxfI/AAAAAAAAAB8/-FmRcJqSlb0/s1600-h/21sYXqx-a2L__AA115_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168799391743985138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/R7tDqUwnxfI/AAAAAAAAAB8/-FmRcJqSlb0/s200/21sYXqx-a2L__AA115_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gods Behaving Badly&lt;/strong&gt; by Marie Philips. Gotta support a fellow (now not-so, in her case) struggling author. I'd been waiting for months for this to be released in the US and almost ordered it from &lt;a href="http://www.foyles.co.uk/"&gt;http://www.foyles.co.uk/&lt;/a&gt; in London in the meantime. It's modern-day London, and the classic Greek gods are forced to share a dingy house, where they've been driving each other crazy for centuries. Artemis, goddess of hunting, is a dog-walker; her twin Apollo is a TV psychic. Bored to tears and coping with ever-weakening powers, they indulge in their favorite pastime: revenge. When two sweet but nerdy mortals stumble into their path, gods and nerds must join forces to save the world. I couldn't put this book down. It's entertaining, funny, and if nothing else, a very basic lesson in Greek mythology! The &lt;em&gt;New York Times&lt;/em&gt; criticized this book, which, the author admits, is a lighthearted story. Amazingly, their review actually criticized the author for blogging repeatedly about Strictly Come Dancing, the Brits' original version of Dancing With The Stars! Dear NY Times: buy a sense of humor already. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/R7tJyEwnxgI/AAAAAAAAACE/nS1xy0aLUjk/s1600-h/21zvlhQpH5L__SH30_OU01_AA115_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168806121957737986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/R7tJyEwnxgI/AAAAAAAAACE/nS1xy0aLUjk/s200/21zvlhQpH5L__SH30_OU01_AA115_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Friday Night Knitting Club&lt;/strong&gt; by Kate Jacobs. I admit I wouldn't have wanted to read this if it didn't involve knitting. That said, I enjoyed this book, but I read it with a lot of eye-rolling, if you know what I mean. Weepy chick lit is not something I usually enjoy. This plot was too formulaic: men are jerks, women should stick together. The back cover guarantees right from the start that the unthinkable &lt;em&gt;will &lt;/em&gt;happen...Add equal doses of getting royally screwed over with saintlike proportions of forgiveness, and you've basically got this book. It's an emotional roller-coaster, with a knitting pattern and a recipe in the back.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's the story of single mom Georgia and her daughter Dakota (it's a states thing, get it?!) and the yarn shop Georgia owns.  Women of different backgrounds congregate on Friday nights.  Life and all its problems ensues.  I found it too sugary-sweet in several places, in particular the spunky 90-year-old Scottish granny who dispensed the obligatory accumulated wisdom; too unbelievable in others--New Yorkers just do not get that involved in the lives of other New Yorkers. Hell, most of them don't even know who their neighbors are. OK, I don't know who any of my neighbors are, either, but you get my point. Having said all this, I'll go see it when the movie version starring Julia Roberts hits the theaters this summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The third book is &lt;em&gt;The Good Fairies of New York&lt;/em&gt; by Martin Millar. Set in New York City by its Scottish author. Neil Gaiman loves this book, and that's enough to pique my interest. In between school work, maybe I'll get to read it before summer comes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-4685659755861461721?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/4685659755861461721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=4685659755861461721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4685659755861461721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4685659755861461721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2008/02/reading-is-fundamental.html' title='Reading is Fundamental'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/R7tDqUwnxfI/AAAAAAAAAB8/-FmRcJqSlb0/s72-c/21sYXqx-a2L__AA115_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-4579671162860697349</id><published>2007-11-06T09:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T16:08:24.107-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No new tv shows? Read a book!</title><content type='html'>So the Writers Guild has gone on strike and television networks are scrambling to fill the void with what I'll call "classic episodes of a recent vintage," a.k.a. repeats. I'm all for writers getting fair pay for their work in an age where it can be accessed via several forms of media. But what to do in the meantime? Tuning in to BBC America comes to mind. Sure, you have to interpret the unintelligible accents of people speaking (mostly) the same language as us, and the shows are at least two years old, but there's a lot of great entertainment coming out of the U.K. BBC America's new "disclaimer" at the start of every show cracks me up (thanks for the Boston shout-out!). We can use close captioning! Of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another suggestion: read a book. Read several. I have a pile of books designated for "fun reading" I haven't been able to get to since I started grad school this fall. The "hard/boring/perplexing reading" comes first. If anyone out there can wrap their head around &lt;em&gt;Tristram Shandy&lt;/em&gt; please drop me a line!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In no particular order, here's a sampling of some of the books I'm dying to read. Perhaps you should be dying to read them too:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lace Reader&lt;/em&gt; by Brunonia Barry&lt;br /&gt;A murder mystery set in Salem, MA in the 1990s--before Salem's "renaissance." When the matriarch of a family of fortune tellers disappears, her niece and an ex-NY cop must find out what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stardust&lt;/em&gt; by Neil Gaiman&lt;br /&gt;Fairies really exist. Human boy falls in love with fairy. Movie is made before I can read book but I don't have chance to see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Strange Case of Hellish Nell&lt;/em&gt; by Nina Shandler&lt;br /&gt;Bizarre true story of a fortune teller in WWII Britain who accurately predicted the British Navy's movements so often she was arrested as a spy, but tried as a witch under Britain's Witchcraft Act of 1745.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since there's an otherwordly theme going on here, I'll round out the list with the master of other worlds:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Making Money&lt;/em&gt; by Terry Pratchett&lt;br /&gt;The newest in his Discworld series sees the return of Moist Von Lipwig. The city of Ankh-Morpork's benevolent dictator puts Moist in charge of the new Ankh-Morpork mint. And you just don't say no to the benevolent dictator!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, some of my random weirdness for your pleasure/amusement or annoyance. Possibly all of the above:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I dressed as a Hogwarts student for Halloween. At work. Technically I was Ginny Weasley because I'm a redhead, but as I was sitting outside on a bench during a break a schoolbus full of elementary school kids stopped at the traffic light. They all called out "Hi hermione!" It made my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Cops on Segways make me giggle. I'm sorry, they just do. It's all I can do to keep a straight face when I walk past one downtown, but when Salem's finest Personal Mobil Transport brigade showed up on TV I lost it! Every year on Halloween, thousands of people pack the downtown area to celebrate. Everyone comes in costume, and it's a blast. NECN, the local New England news channel aired a piece the morning after Halloween that they had filmed the night before.  As the reporter was wrapping up his report, not one, but two Segway cops zoomed past behind him, right on cue, one after the other! It was awesome(ly funny)!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-4579671162860697349?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/4579671162860697349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=4579671162860697349' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4579671162860697349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4579671162860697349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/11/no-new-tv-shows-read-book.html' title='No new tv shows? Read a book!'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-6739739975383058071</id><published>2007-10-01T13:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T15:07:06.793-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor Who'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Literature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='English'/><title type='text'>Hello Grad School, Goodbye Free Time.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RwEwhEcB9yI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CpbVym75fMg/s1600-h/21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116423996354721570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RwEwhEcB9yI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CpbVym75fMg/s200/21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But first, one episode of this season's Dr. Who to go! As the tv screen darkened, we saw Martha running frantically toward a burning London as millions of baby Death Stars rushed toward the city high over her head. Oblivious to the lone human/easy target directly underneath them. The Doctor is now a really old dude, while the Master is crazier/hotter than ever. He's crazy hot! And Jack? He's...just Jack (insert Will and Grace hand motion). Despite all the spoilers I've been reading on line all season, I don't know what's going to happen and I can't wait to find out. I do know Martha joins Torchwood and Donna Noble comes back to be the Doc's companion in season 4. Finally! A non-teenage, non-stick-thin redheaded sistah as companion!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, back to me. I've been accepted into a Masters of English program, which means I get to read lots and lots of books and write lots and lots of papers. This semester, I get to read &lt;em&gt;Lottes of Bookes that look lyke this with no Chapters, Punctuation or Paragraph Breaks for Dyalogue.&lt;/em&gt; I'll also learn how to write fiction, which is the main reason I'm going to school. My full-time job workload and my part-time school workload mean that I can now kiss the following goodbye for the next 2-4 years:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Sleeping&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Free Time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Sanity&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Knitting, Sewing and Various Crafty Endeavors&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Reading for Fun (no analytical thinking required)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, it would all be worth it if I had the Doctor as a professor...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-6739739975383058071?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/6739739975383058071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=6739739975383058071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6739739975383058071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6739739975383058071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/10/hello-grad-school-goodbye-free-time.html' title='Hello Grad School, Goodbye Free Time.'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RwEwhEcB9yI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CpbVym75fMg/s72-c/21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-4811756918141491225</id><published>2007-08-22T12:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T12:45:38.559-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'ts Official...I have a clutter management problem.</title><content type='html'>I also have "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse stuck in my head, but one problem at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being forced to clean out my bedroom at short notice so the carpets could be cleaned made me take a hard look at how I live my life.  I have "stuff" issues.  As in, I can't let go of it. It just accumulates, piles up, takes over, and then lays around laughing at me while I try to find the car license renewal paperwork I knew I'd received in the mail not too long ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I allow clutter to run my life, but my taste in hobbies doesn't do me any favors.  I've officially run out of room in all my bookcases.  I have so much yarn and knitting crap that I've started storing it in plastic bins from Target, discreetly hidden under my bed.  The embroidery stuff is quietly giving the knitting stuff a run for its money.  Now that I've taken up sewing as well (sewing machines--what a great invention) it means I'll be buying even more Stuff, and I'll need more space to store said Stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made a large dent in the clutter reduction project over the last few days.  My floor is now free of any randomly roaming books on embroidery, sewing, Terry Pratchett's Discworld or any and all of Jane Austen's works of fiction.  Next phase of the project is Tops, as in the dresser top, desk #1 top, desk #2 top.  Desk #2 (more of a drawing table actually) will become my new sewing corner. Look at me, I'm all into the crafts now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else pile up as much crap as me, or am I a total freak?  I still can't get "Rehab" out of my head...I'm humming it now for Pete's sake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-4811756918141491225?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/4811756918141491225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=4811756918141491225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4811756918141491225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4811756918141491225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/08/its-officiali-have-clutter-management.html' title='I&apos;ts Official...I have a clutter management problem.'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-6751313203572308221</id><published>2007-08-01T16:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T16:28:04.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'>5 Things Not to write on a Grad School Admission Statement</title><content type='html'>1. I would like to study at your institution because I've been rejected by my first 5 choices&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm sure I'll be admitted; after all, I'm not exactly applying to Harvard, am I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I would appreciate knowing your decision as soon as possible because next week I'm leaving for a monthlong trip to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(for the English major):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. If I don't get in, all I can say is, Bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Harry Potter rocks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(As I typed this, I managed to knock the last accessory from my action figures off my desk. So maybe I was the culprit all along....)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-6751313203572308221?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/6751313203572308221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=6751313203572308221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6751313203572308221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6751313203572308221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/08/5-things-not-to-write-on-grad-school.html' title='5 Things Not to write on a Grad School Admission Statement'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-4011354065252598304</id><published>2007-07-26T13:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T14:56:07.492-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dr. Who'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='needlepoint'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>It's Raining Free Books!</title><content type='html'>I work in the public education system (cue ominous music). Lately there's been a workplace-wide rash of midsummer office clean-outs, resulting in boxes full of books marked "Free to good home" mysteriously popping up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks ago, right before I went on vacation, I came across one such box in the building where the English classes are taught. To go to the snack bar in the foyer. For iced tea, honest! Since I'm applying to go back to school for literature/creative writing, I thought that this might be a positive sign! I walked away with a copy of a creative writing textbook. A Free Professional Copy, mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was in the building where the art classes are taught. To go to the vending machines. To get bottled water, honest! Sitting on the floor was yet another box stuffed full of old books. When I went over to check it out, I discovered it was full of old books on needlepoint! I was pretty excited because I do needlepoint, and I love buying old (1950-1980s) books on needlepoint. These were all in excellent condition, except for one book by needlepoint designer Erica Wilson, which had water damage. The whole book had its pages all stuck together. I selected three books on cross stitch and needlepoint. There were at least 10 others still in the box. To be honest, this box didn't have a sign on it that said Free to good home," so I may have just swiped a bunch of books from someone who might be coming back for them. I'll have to go down and get some Fritos later on and check to see if the box is still there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm wondering is, where did the needlepoint books come from? The English texts i can understand being cleared out by faculty members. Someone must have cleaned out at home and brought a box in. Whatever the case, I've scored some free books that I would have paid, oh, three, four dollars apiece for at a used bookstore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gripes du jour&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone keeps interfering with the Emily the Strange and skeleton boy and girl from The Corpse Bride action figures on my desk. The little pieces like the cat and stuff are missing, presumably knocked behind the desk, only I can't see them on the floor. It's a tight fit to get behind there. Also, my short story got rejected by the literary magazine I submitted it to. As a potential English grad student, let me just say, Bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor Who? Getting better, slowly. I have since pronounced the William Shakespeare episode unwatchable. The (new) New New York episode? Slightly better. My favorite part? Martha's Oh S*** moment when she realizes she doesn't even know the Doctor, really. Well, who does, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Martha&lt;/em&gt;: I don't even know who he is (or something like that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Carjacker/kidnapper girl&lt;/em&gt;: So that means our only hope is--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me&lt;/em&gt;: A casual acquaintance?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Carjacker/kidnapper girl&lt;/em&gt;: a total stranger? That's no good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, but it is good, kidnapper girl. It's very good, indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow: the Daleks take over the Chrystler Building. Can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-4011354065252598304?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/4011354065252598304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=4011354065252598304' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4011354065252598304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4011354065252598304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/07/its-raining-free-books.html' title='It&apos;s Raining Free Books!'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-221072390421770273</id><published>2007-07-11T11:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T12:29:34.379-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Space Rhinos, Bad Extras, &amp; Questionable Science</title><content type='html'>Last Friday was the (finally!) double header season premiere of Dr. Who in the U.S.  More David Tennant hotness, some Catherine Tate wackiness, and some Freema Argeman, uh, newness!&lt;br /&gt;This opinionated post will contain spoilers.  These are my thoughts on the first two episodes.  And, please, spare me any "it's only a tv show" comments, if you don't mind.  Just picture my tongue firmly planted in my cheek.  So I will dutifully insert a spoiler space.  But I'm pretty sure anyone on either side of the Atlantic who wanted to watch Dr. Who at all has probably seen it by now.  Nevertheless...&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;s&lt;br /&gt;The Runaway Bride was pretty cool.  I like the Dr. Who Christmas specials, and this year David Tennant didn't spend most of the episode in a coma so that was a definite plus.  Donna was incredibly irritating and yes, I have to say it, a little thick.  So let's review: The Doctor wants Donna to travel with him, but only wants to take Martha along for one ride?   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lance:  Even though the Doctor looks at Donna like she's being too cruel, yes, in my opinion, Lance did deserve what he got for betraying her. Hello? He was also sacrificing the &lt;em&gt;entire human race &lt;/em&gt;to the mean giant spider lady?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Racnoss (??) Empress: Mean giant spider lady funny.  Maybe it was intentional. most of the aliens in Dr. Who's entire history have been unintentionally funny, so I'm not sure.   Whatever the case, she made me laugh.  She was waaay over the top, freaky as all get-out, and I loved the 10-packs-a-day raspiness of her voice.  I like Sarah Parrish. The portrayal probably wasn't meant to be intentionally funny, but either way, you can tell she definitely had a blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smith and Jones was pretty cool.  I love when the aliens are weird/spooky looking. That's why I like the Cybermen better than the salt shakers-I mean Daleks.  The heavily armored Judoon were creepy cool in their heavy black spacesuits and 6-inch high Creepers.  At first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are three things about this episode that I couldn't quite get over. Hint: See title of post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Rhino aliens.  Why rhinos? Are they aware they resemble non-sentient earth animals?! Would they flock to all of Earth's zoos in order to free their bretheren, then blast the entire zookeeping staff because "justice is swift?" Would they find Doc Martens more comfortable than Creepers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Bad extras.  OK people, imagine you're sitting in a lounge one minute, the next minute, Oh my God, the entire hospital is on the moon!  You look out the window.  You react. Okayyyy and....ACTION!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The extras reaction to being on the moon made me laugh. I don't know, I just thought they were funny.  And Martha? I'll suspend my belief and just accept that she didn't freak out. Cos I can tell Martha is going to kick a**. Girl, you went to the moon and back in a day, yet you're together enough to make it to your brother's birthday party on time? &lt;em&gt;Rock&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) The Doctor's Revival and Other Scientific Oddities. Now, I'm not a doctor, but if someone dies from a loss of blood, would &lt;em&gt;CPR&lt;/em&gt; really be enough to revive them? Wouldn't they need a transfusion? And don't get me started on how the hospital's power supply was still working on the moon.  The entire building's removal left a giant crater.  So at some point wouldn't all the underground plumbing and electrical lines, etc., have been severed?  I'm sure everyone would say, "yes, but the bubble the Judoon created to keep the air in also enabled all the systems to keep functioning."  Fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to meet William Shakespeare!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-221072390421770273?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/221072390421770273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=221072390421770273' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/221072390421770273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/221072390421770273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/07/space-rhinos-bad-extras-questionable.html' title='Space Rhinos, Bad Extras, &amp; Questionable Science'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-7812137068380795921</id><published>2007-06-28T13:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T14:46:35.765-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sci Fi Channel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dr. Who'/><title type='text'>Who! What? When!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RoPwaPT4XOI/AAAAAAAAABs/enmb60rxGdI/s1600-h/180px-Tennantdoc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081169138181233890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RoPwaPT4XOI/AAAAAAAAABs/enmb60rxGdI/s200/180px-Tennantdoc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night, finally, I received confirmation of something I've been waiting for with baited breath for months: the season premiere of Dr. Who on Sci Fi!! The internet rumor mill had the US premiere of season three starting on July 6th. I saw a commercial last night whilst watching Ghost Hunters, and July 6th it is! Now, I've been a fan of Dr. Who since the early 90s, when, thanks to cable, I could finally catch the classic series on public television. When I was a kid (and I'm not telling you which decade &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; was) I could make out some of the Tom Baker/Peter Davidson episodes via an extremely fuzzy reception. Remember when the Dr. and Tegan went to Amsterdam?! That was good times...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fast forward a decade or so and, behold! Sylvester McCoy and Sophie Aldred in all their glorious cable television glory! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oddly, I was unaware that BBC revived the series until I found out about it via, of all things, a knitting forum! I thought Christopher Eccleston was an odd choice for the Doctor--until I watched an episode. No sooner had the 9th doctor found a place in my heart when, bam, he regenerated. Helloooooo number 10!! I don't know why I find him so irresistible: it could be the suit and Chucks combo. Or is it the vintage overcoat? The sideburns are definitely part of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh my God! Yahoo music is playing "Make A Circuit With Me" by the Pole Cats. It's been over 20 years since I've heard that song...must rate song..."Can't Get Enough"...There. But I digress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Brits (if any read this blog) have already sat through the entire season. In fact, Dr. Who is so popular in Britain that the season finale was screened on giant outdoor TV screens in London because the Gay Pride march was scheduled for the same time and so many participants didn't want to miss it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, yeah, next Friday is going to be a big night for me.  Yes, I'm aware of how sad that is! "The Runaway Bride" or whatever.  There are two things, however, that I find annoying about being an American Who fan:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) We're an entire season behind Britain. Since I like to peruse the BBC's official Dr. Who website, this means I've completely spoiled every major development, plot twist, guest star appearance, you name it, for myself..  You could say I've "mastered" the art of the spoiler.  Those familiar with the classic series will know what I'm talking about...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) Smug, superior British fans who complain about all the "new fans" on the Sci Fi Channel's Dr. Who forum.  Don't you people have enough British forums to post on without lording it (no pun intended. Time-Lording over it?!) over us Yanks?  Please remember, classic series Dr. Who viewing for most Americans has been sporadic at best.  Please don't flood an American forum with complaints about new fans.  Just be glad there are that many more of us!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On an un-Dr.Who-related note:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two days after my post about McSweeney's big inventory sell-off (see below) USA Today's Pop Candy column ran a piece on the very topic! Is Whitney Matheson stalking me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-7812137068380795921?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/7812137068380795921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=7812137068380795921' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7812137068380795921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7812137068380795921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/06/who-what-when.html' title='Who! What? When!?'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RoPwaPT4XOI/AAAAAAAAABs/enmb60rxGdI/s72-c/180px-Tennantdoc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-5247130060071436509</id><published>2007-06-19T14:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T16:13:07.268-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor Who'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='UK'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><title type='text'>Books No Problem. Dr. Who Action Figure? No Can Do.</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been placing lots of orders with companies across the pond. Those lovely folks in the U.K. are more than happy to send the Anglophilic American a delightful arrray of whatever books, paper goods, foodstuffs and cross-stitch kits he or she may desire. But try to order a Dr. Who action figure? Problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last December I placed an order with amazon.uk. I ordered the Dr. Who 2007 calendar. Then I clicked the purchase button on the Tenth Doctor in Brown Suit (with sonic screwdriver) and held my breath. Success--or so I thought. I was very excited about the prospect of finally having my own Ten action figure in my hot little hands--until I got to the checkout section. The action figure would not go through because of licensing agreements. Only a few European countries outside the UK can order British toys! I guess I should have expected that, but come on: who in the US is going to make any decent Dr. Who products, am I right people?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Needless to say, I was a tad disappointed. I was further disappointed when I received the Dr. Who calendar. All the photos, except for August, were of all the butt-ugly aliens from each episode. There were a few tiny pictures of the Doctor, one or two of Rose, and none of the supporting characters we came to know and love during seasons one and two. *sob* I miss Jax!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was so mad I posted a negative review under the "Be the first to review this product!" banner. I was assured the review would appear shortly. Curiously, when I checked in a couple of days later, the "Be the first to review this product!" banner had been put back up. Sneaky!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To wit: Americans can order this: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rngoyry9EjI/AAAAAAAAABM/8EnQMQlSL44/s1600-h/9780340818862.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077853431075246642" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rngoyry9EjI/AAAAAAAAABM/8EnQMQlSL44/s320/9780340818862.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but not this: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RngpILy9EmI/AAAAAAAAABk/2n8rZK6xVRY/s1600-h/10thdrwjacketfigure.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077853800442434146" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RngpILy9EmI/AAAAAAAAABk/2n8rZK6xVRY/s200/10thdrwjacketfigure.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luckily, my local comic book shop got a small batch of the action figures a couple of months ago. I was thinking of buying the cyberman as well, but I don't want to start collecting a lot of junk again. Though, how cool would a cyberman action figure be in a photo for my knitting blog? He could be shaking his fist at my half-finished sock!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-5247130060071436509?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/5247130060071436509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=5247130060071436509' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/5247130060071436509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/5247130060071436509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/06/books-no-problem-dr-who-action-figure.html' title='Books No Problem. Dr. Who Action Figure? No Can Do.'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rngoyry9EjI/AAAAAAAAABM/8EnQMQlSL44/s72-c/9780340818862.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-8927778176446954542</id><published>2007-06-13T12:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T16:14:07.216-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Believer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='McSweeney&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nick Hornby'/><title type='text'>McSweeney's Needs Your Help!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAcILy9EhI/AAAAAAAAAA8/XC8UO6XrVLk/s1600-h/957bb905bba81c1ecedce898c2a52c41.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075587706977587730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAcILy9EhI/AAAAAAAAAA8/XC8UO6XrVLk/s320/957bb905bba81c1ecedce898c2a52c41.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Rather recently, I became aware of a great independent publishing concern called McSweeney's. Based in San Diego, they publish the literary/music magazines &lt;em&gt;McSweeney's Quarterly Concern,&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;The Believer &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;Wholphin. &lt;/em&gt;In addition, they publish many many books ranging from poetry to literary criticism to humor. With illustrious names such as Nick Hornby, Dave Eggers, and Amy Sedaris among their semi- or regular contributors, these gloriously designed magazines are a feast for the eyes as well as the brain. Not to mention the ears: The &lt;em&gt;Believer&lt;/em&gt;'s much anticipated music issue always comes with a CD bursting with fresh talent paired with established acts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAYj7y9EgI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Kp9GTkh4oz4/s1600-h/blvr_bookbundle.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075583785672446466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAYj7y9EgI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Kp9GTkh4oz4/s320/blvr_bookbundle.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Recently, Mcsweeney's distributor filed for bankruptcy. The publishers took a huge hit and are now struggling to get back on their feet. So by now you're all probably asking yourselves," How can all this suffering benefit me, personally?" Why, you can benefit by visiting &lt;a href="http://www.mcsweeneys.net/"&gt;McSweeney's&lt;/a&gt; in order to take advantage of their inventory sell-off. Almost everything they sell, including subscriptions, is discounted. They're famous for their book bundles and magazine bundles. Right now I'm eyeing the Music Bundle: three past music issues of &lt;em&gt;Believer&lt;/em&gt;, three CDs, all for $19.60, reduced from $28. Of course, right before they announced their sell-off, I made my first purchase with them--the Nick Hornby bundle ($15.40, reduced from $22.00). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Please go to their website and check out all the cool things they have. Once you've been there, &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAcOry9EiI/AAAAAAAAABE/DH9uog-EvSc/s1600-h/ef2109e8348d929ddac90f8e51b816d7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075587818646737442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAcOry9EiI/AAAAAAAAABE/DH9uog-EvSc/s320/ef2109e8348d929ddac90f8e51b816d7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;you'll marvel over the sheer number of indispensible objects they have to tempt the discriminating buyer. After all, what better time than now to finally buy that tee shirt you've been eyeing? You know, the one with a silhouette of a stag riding a motorcycle? (I'm ordering one as soon as I get paid on Friday!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You're probably wondering how you ever lived without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAYj7y9EgI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Kp9GTkh4oz4/s1600-h/blvr_bookbundle.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-8927778176446954542?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/8927778176446954542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=8927778176446954542' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/8927778176446954542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/8927778176446954542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/06/mcsweeneys-needs-your-help.html' title='McSweeney&apos;s Needs Your Help!'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RnAcILy9EhI/AAAAAAAAAA8/XC8UO6XrVLk/s72-c/957bb905bba81c1ecedce898c2a52c41.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-4001104050262724202</id><published>2007-06-05T12:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T16:14:54.377-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pirates of the Carribean'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shrek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie theaters'/><title type='text'>Pirates and Ogres and Wizards, oh my!</title><content type='html'>I've seen two "summer blockbusters" in the past three weeks. I usually wait until crowds thin out a little before going to the movies, lest I run screaming from the theater in the throes of a claustrophobia-induced panic attack. But my overwhelming desire to see Shrek and Pirates made me throw caution--and a small dose of xanax--to the wind!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to see Shrek the Third on its opening weekend. For some strange reason, it failed to register in my brain that Shrek is primarily a &lt;em&gt;kid's movie&lt;/em&gt;. Yeah, there's nothing like going to the movies alone because you can't find anyone to go with you only to sit in a theater packed with screaming children. Personal highlights: the small boy next to me who kept kicking me; his mother who kept asking me what was happening onscreen and which princess was which because she couldn't follow the plot; the shrieks of laughter (from the kids) every time Shrek said the word "poop," and the theater-wide "AAAAWWWWWW!" when Puss in Boots did the sad kitty face thing. OK, I'm guilty of the last highlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to sit through a bunch of lame, kid-oriented previews. None of them was Harry Potter. But, sweet merciful Lord, I did get to see the preview for Bratz: The Movie. As God is my witness: if I ever have to sit through &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; in which the term "BFFs" is being used &lt;em&gt;without&lt;/em&gt; a sense of irony again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I loved Shrek the Third. I'd go see it again once the crowds die down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend I saw Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End. The theater was crowded but there was breathing room! Shrek was still doing a brisk business. Johnny Depp was hot, Keith Richards did a good job in his cameo, and Kiera Knightly kicked butt. Word to the wise: If you go see Pirates, stay through the ending credits. There's an extra scene when the credits are over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to sit through a bunch of lame previews. None of them was Harry Potter. Where are they showing Harry Potter previews? I've seen them online, but nothing beats a big screen and surround sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. Next month I'll go see the movie. On the opening weekend. The theater probably won't be filled with screaming kids, since the story gets darker with each movie/book, but you never know. I'm hoping Voldemort scares them away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-4001104050262724202?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/4001104050262724202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=4001104050262724202' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4001104050262724202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4001104050262724202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/06/pirates-and-ogres-and-wizards-oh-my.html' title='Pirates and Ogres and Wizards, oh my!'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-7500302043982022321</id><published>2007-05-30T08:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T08:34:02.723-04:00</updated><title type='text'>For Your Consideration</title><content type='html'>Something interesting I discovered last night: Microsoft Word's spell check flags the word "Kenobi" but not the word "Obi-Wan."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discuss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-7500302043982022321?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/7500302043982022321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=7500302043982022321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7500302043982022321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/7500302043982022321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/05/for-your-consideration.html' title='For Your Consideration'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-2305541643395322960</id><published>2007-05-24T12:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T11:36:42.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feed Your Head, with Fiction and Food...</title><content type='html'>If anyone reading this is in the Salem, MA  area on the evening of Saturday, May 26th, &lt;a href="http://www.feedyourheadbooks.com"&gt;Feed Your Head&lt;/a&gt; is hosting a release party for the newest issue of &lt;a href="http://www.quickfiction.org"&gt;Quick Fiction&lt;/a&gt;.  There will be readings from the new issue, snacks, live music and raffles.  Seventy-five percent of the night's proceeds are being generously donated by the Quick Fiction folks in support of Feed Your Head--an independent retailer offering a variety of zines and other alternative reading materials.  Details and directions can be found &lt;a href="http://www.feedyourheadbooks.com"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.quickfiction.org"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  Come out and show your support to both these great organizations--Witch City needs to support its businesses to counteract all the witch museums!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Update&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Week of Living Veganously is over.  I was able to stick with a vegan diet--with one exception--having cow's milk in my coffee at the office cafeteria, which, predicably, does not stock soy milk. I won't post the entire week's menu, but highlights included whole wheat pasta alio ed olio (garlic and oil, or oil and garlic. But I think &lt;em&gt;olio&lt;/em&gt; is the oil); and eggplant cutlets with homemade marinara sauce.  Eggplant parm without the parm.  I can do this diet occasionally, but I don't plan on giving up cheese and dairy any time soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-2305541643395322960?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/2305541643395322960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=2305541643395322960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/2305541643395322960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/2305541643395322960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/05/fiction-food-feed-your-head.html' title='Feed Your Head, with Fiction and Food...'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-4890785873548913136</id><published>2007-05-22T12:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T12:52:12.842-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Urge to Zine</title><content type='html'>The urge to zine again is slowly starting to take hold of me. I don't know exactly when it started, but slowly the urge to put out a zine of my own has been building and building. The more I think about it, the more I convince myself that I should give it a go. But what to zine about? The answer to that question, and best part of the whole process, of course, is "anything I want." Should I include original fiction, some recipes and the occasional random knitting pattern? Why not! But I'm plagued with some self-doubt. What's the real reason I want to do a zine? It sure as hell isn't the money. I doubt I'd even have a readership. Is it fame? Glory? Indie, alternascene cred? Yes. I've created the term "alternascene." Deal. I don't have anything in particular to write about. And the "personal zine," well, I don't want to get too personal, though, compared to a lot of zines out there written by people who've suffered truly traumatic events in their lives, mine would be a fluff piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Would people really want to know what I'm reading, listening to? I like to read about places people live; anecdotes about their hometowns and what's going on. It's sort of like travelling and meeting (strange) new people without leaving my chair. Should I create a nice looking zine in Quark with the neatest illustrations I can manage, or type it in Courier, cut it all up and make it look messy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thinking about it waaaay too much. But the reality is, I'm almost 100% sure I've already made my decision. I'll be digging out my Lefty scissors and glue stick later tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Top Five Things I Should Do Tonight Instead of Playing The Sims 2 &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(In interchangeable order)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Clean my apt/bedroom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Watch Dancing With The Stars Finale&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Work on graphics and site to get robotgirlie.com really up and running&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Start zine (see above)&lt;br /&gt;5. Read something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What's robotgirlie Reading Now? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Doris: 1991 - 2001&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is an anthology of Cindy Ovenrack Crabb's &lt;em&gt;Doris&lt;/em&gt; zine that compiles 10 &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RlMdlq0iYYI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Utm8pODdDwc/s1600-h/image_1212.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067426538708951426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RlMdlq0iYYI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Utm8pODdDwc/s320/image_1212.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;years of issues into one softcover book. Recreating her line drawings and manual paste-ups, it's a gut-wrenchingly honest read. Cindy invites her readers to share in both the good and the bad events in her life. At times beautiful and poetic prose contrasts sharply with grammatical and spelling errors as Doris types out her hopes, fears, and dreams in one long stream-of-conciousness. Moving often across the country, often squatting or living outdoors, her main desire is simply to keep her tenuous grip on everything she holds dear: her sister, her dog, friends, her projects, her self-esteem, and a place to belong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She takes joy in finding items left on the curb that can be turned into a makeshift writing desk. She writes at length about family dysfunction. Within the stark cut-and-paste pages of &lt;em&gt;Doris&lt;/em&gt;, Cindy does brilliantly what most people can never achieve: She bares it all, body and soul, leaving herself equally open for condemnation as well as praise. But she's not afraid to do it. This book will be with me long after I've turned the last page.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-4890785873548913136?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/4890785873548913136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=4890785873548913136' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4890785873548913136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/4890785873548913136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/05/urge-to-zine.html' title='The Urge to Zine'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RlMdlq0iYYI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Utm8pODdDwc/s72-c/image_1212.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-6405737902351269440</id><published>2007-05-17T16:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T16:20:37.510-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Portland Trying To Tell Me Something?</title><content type='html'>We all know Portland, Oregon is a mecca of vegan restaurants, indie bookstores and alternative culture. But is the city trying to tell me something?&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rky14K0iYXI/AAAAAAAAAAk/iezArZi1s58/s1600-h/stolensharpierev.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065623657466978674" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rky14K0iYXI/AAAAAAAAAAk/iezArZi1s58/s200/stolensharpierev.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Lately a lot of seemingly random interests are converging on this city. First, a link on &lt;a href="http://www.theppk.com"&gt;http://www.theppk.com&lt;/a&gt; led me to place an order with a vegan grocery store called Food Fight: &lt;a href="http://www.foodfightgrocery.com"&gt;http://www.foodfightgrocery.com&lt;/a&gt;. Bear with me--I'm too lazy to hit the "Edit HTML" button and type in code. Food Fight is in Portland. Next, I finally dug out &lt;em&gt;Stolen Sharpie Revolution&lt;/em&gt; from deep within my pile of books to read. The author and her company are also in Portland. All of this led to &lt;em&gt;Herbivore &lt;/em&gt;magazine, based in--you guessed it, Portland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where serendipity takes over. For years I've been talking about starting my own business selling shirts and other things with my designs on it. In the spirit of DIY fellowship, Microcosm Publishing, Food Fight, and &lt;em&gt;Herbivore&lt;/em&gt; all provide info on where they get shirts and buttons with their designs produced. See links to the left of this blog. Is this a sign that I should get off my a** and do something? I'm thinking maybe it is.&lt;br /&gt;The urge to zine is slowly taking hold of me again. I had a brief affair with making my own zine back in the 90s and didn't stick with it. To this day I live in fear of the 12-year-old girl who sent me $2 cash for the followup issue that never materialized--my one paid order. I'd say the name of this zine, but this kid is probably in law school by now and has probably been hunting for me for years. Or maybe I'm just being extremely paranoid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to the good people of Portland, alterna-scene hipsters or no, thank you for providing some resources for me to a) eat healthier, and b)get a move-on on my DIY dreams. I thank you all via the internet. And if I ever overcome my paralyzing fear of flying, I'll drop in in person to do it. Until then, I can wear my Food Fight tee and tell people I've been.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-6405737902351269440?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/6405737902351269440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=6405737902351269440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6405737902351269440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6405737902351269440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/05/is-portland-trying-to-tell-me-something.html' title='Is Portland Trying To Tell Me Something?'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rky14K0iYXI/AAAAAAAAAAk/iezArZi1s58/s72-c/stolensharpierev.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-6628848120243236868</id><published>2007-05-15T10:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T09:34:40.323-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Week of Living Veganously</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rkr90a0iYWI/AAAAAAAAAAc/P0Az76qfvGg/s1600-h/vegan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065139807926247778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rkr90a0iYWI/AAAAAAAAAAc/P0Az76qfvGg/s200/vegan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going vegan for the week. It's an experiment to see whether or not I feel better or worse after 7 days of giving up milk, cheese, and meat. I've been looking into healthier eating options lately, like vegetarianism, in an effort to improve my overall health. Can animal by-products really be the cause of all my woes? I don't know, but I'm open to alternatives. Lemme just say upfront that I don't plan on being 100% vegan. I'm sorry, and please don't bombard me with hate comments, vegans, but I love the cheese, 'kay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isa Chandra Moskowitz will be my vegan guide. Armed with these two books, I've been vegan for over 24 hours now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MONDAY:&lt;br /&gt;black coffee, steel cut oatmeal with Splenda, 1 peach&lt;br /&gt;1 soy yogurt&lt;br /&gt;peanut butter on whole wheat bread, 1 banana&lt;br /&gt;strawberries&lt;br /&gt;coconut rice with spinach/chickpea curry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TUESDAY&lt;br /&gt;coffee with soy milk, steel cut oatmeal with cinnamon&lt;br /&gt;1 peach, 1 Vruit juice box&lt;br /&gt;peanut butter on whole wheat, 1 soy yogurt&lt;br /&gt;1 peach&lt;br /&gt;coconut rice with spinach/chickpea curry (I'll be eating this for 2 weeks cos I made the full recipe)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far so good. I broke down and bought soy milk and yogurt. The soy milk I can probably get used to, but the yogurt tastes rancid to me. I'm trying a different brand today so maybe it will taste better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pissed at iTunes right now. How could they N OT have Apples in Stereo or Chameleons UK to download, yet they have Architecture in Helsinki and Alien Sex Fiend? How do they determine which obscure or old and obscure bands to stock? I downloaded Architecture in Helsinki, cos I've heard a few songs on Yahoo radio. But I don't know how I feel about it. I bought the Fingers Crossed lp. At any given time they remind me of Apples in Stereo, The Magnetic Fields, Pizzicato Five, Frazier Chorus...it's weird! Kinda indie, kinda easy listening. It's like, woodwinds are cool! So is brass! Band geeks haven't been given this much hope that they can become rock stars since The Dream Academy! Cheer up, little girl with the wraparound retainer who plays the cymbals! Have hope, awkward little tuba player!  This band is not afraid to release their inner band geek, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I don't know if I like it or not, it's pretty clear that I obviously don't &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; it! I do know one thing though: this album will thoroughly annoy anyone and everyone who rides in my car with me when I play it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-6628848120243236868?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/6628848120243236868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=6628848120243236868' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6628848120243236868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/6628848120243236868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/05/week-of-living-veganously.html' title='The Week of Living Veganously'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/Rkr90a0iYWI/AAAAAAAAAAc/P0Az76qfvGg/s72-c/vegan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4717175440802884357.post-5963939685159822014</id><published>2007-05-01T14:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T14:24:57.672-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Think I Killed Off a Book Club!</title><content type='html'>Because I seem to be the only person left. Unless...someone else is methodically killing off the book club and I'm next! Nah. I prefer the "I'm a book club jinx" theory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two months ago, our local indie bookstore formed a Sci Fi club. Great, I thought, a chance to get out of the house and meet other nerds like myself. Maybe (well, highly likely, actually) they'd be male nerds! The first meeting was great. There were 8 members. Last month, only two people showed up--me and one person who hadn't attended the first meeting. Last week, I was the only person who showed up. What's the common factor in all of this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Me.  Could it be that I'm--gasp--hideous? Sure, I've got a small 'stache going, but who doesn't, am I right, girls?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RjeD47mXGFI/AAAAAAAAAAU/OMGS_Qnh_0E/s1600-h/22bcf09a3fc4d31e61d956214b2d132212328386.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059657720468543570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RjeD47mXGFI/AAAAAAAAAAU/OMGS_Qnh_0E/s200/22bcf09a3fc4d31e61d956214b2d132212328386.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I read &lt;em&gt;Bridget Jones's Diary&lt;/em&gt; this weekend--finally, 11 years after it came out. I don't know why I resisted. I guess I have a visceral reaction to "chick lit" as a rule. I know, I'm a snob. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hysterical; Helen Fielding is so right on when it comes to the whole reaching-your-thirties thing, whether she's writing about dating, dieting or depression eating!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4717175440802884357-5963939685159822014?l=robotgirlie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/feeds/5963939685159822014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4717175440802884357&amp;postID=5963939685159822014' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/5963939685159822014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4717175440802884357/posts/default/5963939685159822014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotgirlie.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-think-i-killed-off-book-club.html' title='I Think I Killed Off a Book Club!'/><author><name>Leebot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15772451866981084734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/S-LCjkl8vyI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EtHkzH6yQwk/S220/blythe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XYWLm1k72Yk/RjeD47mXGFI/AAAAAAAAAAU/OMGS_Qnh_0E/s72-c/22bcf09a3fc4d31e61d956214b2d132212328386.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
