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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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children of dune - leto 1
seperis
This Thing

I am apparently less than ten minutes from a maximum security prison.

This is not just totally new information to me. Wait. It is totally new information, but it is also highly intersting in that way of wondering if I actually inhabit this plane of existence at all. Cause that is a lot of prison to miss.

Let me say it again.

A. Maximum. Security. Prison. Less than Ten. Minutes. Away.

This revelation occurred during the Great Trampoline Journey of Last Weekend, when my sister helpfully pointed out a spot in the middle of a very nearby town that looked like any wooded midtown area and said, "There's a prison there."

Me: "Huh?"

But lo. Apparently, there is. That or five vaguely neutral observors are all plotting against me, and while I'd usually go with that theory, I'm kind of entranced with the idea of it. Cause it has been there for years. And I did not know.

Again. Maximum. Security. Prison. Huh. Sooo did not see that coming out of nowhere.

This and That

Oooh. I fought the hotlinker and I *won*. The hotlinker was eleven. Somehow, that makes my victory not as fun. *sighs* On the other hand, svmadelyn was my guinea pig to test whether it was working and she was good at it. And we both wondered what on earth she was doing on my Love and Lust page. Cause--no. Do not want to think about that. That's three years older than my son.

...okay, now I am starting to sound like Dr Laura.

Speaking of which, does anyone but me, when listening to Dr. Laura, feel inexpressibly brilliant and competent by comparsion to teh people who call in?

Right. Work with me on this one.

It was not my fault, but the radio was there and I couldn't turn it off. In the course of about an hour, the calls ranged from scary to--well, scary.



This is what Listening to Dr. Laura does to you:

C: "I have this person I've known for three months and who used to be my friend and she's needy so we broke up but she wants to be friends again and what should I do?"

Dr.L: "Do you want to be friends with her?

C: "Maybe? I don't know. I guess. Maybe. No? Sort of? I dont' want to hurt her feelings! No! Yes! NO!"

Dr.L: "Then tell her no."

Q: "BUT HOW?"

....

Caller was twenty-six, married, with a child. I'll stop here, because teh conversation degenerated to, and I have no idea how this happened considering the subject matter, your husband works hard to take care fo you! He deserves a bright happy loving wife! Why are you punishing him? WHY ARE YOU CAUSING HIM PAIN AFTER HIS LONG DAY AT THE OFFICE YOU WHORE? Except without the whore part. I think.

I still have no idea how this happened.

Dr. Laura consistently strengthens my resolve to never marry. Seh's also slowly eroding my hope that the human race is actually smarter than Jerry Springer has led me to believe.



Okay, so thought. I'm bored. I need something new to do. Any suggestions? Trampolining until your legs hurt is great for working off all those Hershey's Kisses you've been guzzling by the bag all week, but the third time you land on your ass trying to show off to your son and he convulses on teh ground laughing too hard to talk? You sort of lose your taste for it.

ETA: HAHAHA! SO NOT MAXIMUM SECURITY! MINIMUM! And Mid, whatever that means. WHEE! I DO NOT NEED TO SUDDENLY DEVELOP A NEW IRRATIONAL TERROR!

Okay, seriously, I need something to do here. I'm goggling *prisons* for God's sake.


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I've been googling for teh past couple of days trying to find it. This is *very frustrating*. I have a feeling I'm keywording wrong.

Or my favorite theory. Plotting against me.

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