not all of which has aged well in a post #MeToo world
Wednesday, March 16 2022
As I often do on Wednesdays, I took a recreational 150 milligram dose of pseudoephedrine this morning before beginning my work day. I anticipated needing this not to help with difficult software development tasks (which, for the time being at least, are not much of an issue) but instead to not be quite as bored through the day's big boring meetings (which are characteristic of every other Wednesday). Pseudoephedrine helps me be more pro-social, which makes me a more active participant (and a funnier one at that) during meetings, and it also intensifies feelings of satisfaction from accomplishments, such as from the brief demo I gave of the nascent AppStream login system I've been building.
I usually start drinking kratom tea in the afternoon, especially on days when I take pseudoephedrine. This helps contribute to a good workday, though inevitably I drink a beer, and though initially this feels good, inevitably it makes me feel kind of sick. Today that sickness (or perhaps it was just dysphoria) seemed to come over me most strongly tonight at Ray & Nancy's house, where Gretchen, Powerful, and I went for dinner to celebrate Nancy's 55th birthday. I was feeling fine when I drank a glass of prosecco, and I felt fine as I ate the soba noodles, cubes of spicy tofu, weird arugala salad that contained chunks of orange, and Korean-style latkes. But then I hit some sort of wall, perhaps because I'd eaten so much vegan Ben & Jerry's icecream in the late afternoon. After that, I felt mildly nauseated and dysphoric to the point where I went into the living room and snuggled with the dogs while the others ate the birthday cake Gretchen had made.
But after sipping on a glass of red wine that I didn't really think I wanted, I started feeling much better just as Nancy opened her various presents. I'd finished the painting of a golden garden spider earlier today, and that was one of them. Gretchen had gotten Nancy a book called Pajama Pilates and Powerful made her a card, since he's essentially indigent these days. Meanwhile Ramona had found one of Jack's toys and was playing with it vigorously, giving lie to the idea that she's an old dog in the sunset of her life. Later Jack even got Ramona to wrestle with him a little on the floor, something he'd been trying to get either Neville or Ramona do with him since we arrived.
Meanwhile us humans watched a couple episodes of a show called Impractical Jokers, in which a group of guys instruct (over hidden earpiece) one of their team to do and say various wacky, socially-inappropriate things while posing as a worker in a restaurant, shoe store, or even as a professor in a college. It had a lot of funny moments, but it was old material, not all of which has aged well in a post #MeToo world. And much of it was groan-inducingly bro-ish. It's not the kind of material I would seek out on my own.
The painting I finished today of a golden garden spider.
The double-flipped tile-able version.
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