Nice piece in Time about Twitter. (Hey, I like those puppy and kitten videos on YouTube - is that why I like Twitter too?) Also, every time I end up at the Time site lately (which admittedly isn’t all that often), I can’t help but notice that their current design is very slick. Especially when compared to most news and magazine sites.
Chris made dinner for me and our friends Johan and Meg last night, who we hadn’t seen in far too long. And who actually hadn’t ever seen our Roosevelt Island apartment — shocking, since we’ve been here just over two years now. There was much Stella consumed, and some really fantastic cheesecake from Junior’s. (The leftovers of which were devoured this morning with coffee — mmm.)
I’ve spent most of today working, but for once it’s solely personal stuff, which is very refreshing. My eyes are starting to complain about yet another day spent in front of a monitor, though, so I think I’ll call it a night pretty soon.
You can now find me on Virb and Twitter. Yeah, that’s in addition to Last.fm, LibraryThing, Flickr, del.icio.us, MySpace, Friendster, Orkut, Vox, LiveJournal, MetaFilter, Slashdot, and Digg. What can I say? I guess I like filling out forms.
The weather this week, by the way, is lovely. And the Stolen Babies album is tremendously fun.
The weather in New York City today may be eligible for some kind of award. I’m thinking along the lines of Most Dismal, Soul-Sucking Crap Imaginable (So Far This Year).
I don’t have any idea what you’d call the stuff that’s coming out of the sky right now. It’s like some sort of cold, hard, tangible manifestation of hate. I know, I know - that makes it sound like it would be right up my alley. But as it turns out it just means my socks and pant legs were soaked through with horrible slushy material, and people seemed very keen to slip and fall down the stairs at the subway station.
I arrived at my apartment a cold, quivering animal, incapable of human speech and seeking only warmth and safety. Hooray for spring.
I had a cab driver the other night who was the chatty sort (as opposed to the talk radio sort, or the cellphone sort, or the eerily silent sort). As we waited in a traffic snarl near the Queensboro he asked me what I did for a living, but before I could answer he said "Wait, don’t tell me - computers, right? Internet?" I asked him how he knew, and he replied "Your glasses! Nice girl like you wearing those glasses, all those black clothes - it’s always something with computers."
