Not that my beloved mother doesn't enjoy reading her second favorite son's musings (I'm not bitter - I'm much better looking than my brother, so I still win), but she still does those bendy-finger air quotes when she says the word "internet," so I think I'm safe. Out of idle curiousity, I broke out my math skills today. Let's say I drink six cans of Diet Coke (a.k.a. 'The Sweet Nectar of Life') a day. Let's say six, because while it sometimes only one or two, it is also sometimes more like six 2 liter bottles. Note to self: Don't try to hold a coherent conversation after that much caffienated goodness. 1 can of Diet Coke = 12 fl. oz = 0.75 pounds (yes, I know that fluid ounces and weight ounces aren't the same. What, are the International Standards of Weights & Measures Police going to come take me away, Mr. Anal? It's close enough.) 6 cans * 0.75 lbs = 4.5 lbs 4.5 lbs * 365 days = 1642.5 lbs a year 1 Ken (175 lbs) / 1642.5 = 9.4 Kens I drink almost nine and a half times my own body weight in Diet Coke a year. I am, like, totally going to live forever.

Saturday night, and it's getting on towards 8:30pm - the Official (and generally enforced) Bedtime. I wave my fingers in front of the critter's face. 'You are getting sleepy. Jedi Mind Trick. You want to go to bed.' The Critter: 'Nope. Not sleepy.' *grin* Me: ...sigh... About 10 minutes later, she wanders back into the living room and hops up onto the arm of the couch next to me. Holding her hand in front of my face and wiggling her fingers, she states: 'Daddy get me more juice. In the pink cup.' My daughter, dark lord of the Sith. I don't think I've ever been more proud...

OK. I've fixed and broken it about a half a dozen times, and this is what I'm up to. I like the new layout (plus it's more standard for Movable Type, so it's easier to apply updates), but it's played havoc with all the cross-referenced links on the site. Not to mention causing me to use profane language loud and often. Over the next few weeks, I'll go back and correct all those things as I find them. Patience, grasshoper. I'm turning on comments for this page, so if you really feel like it, you can tell me if you hate the yellow.