In which logic is touched upon, along with yellow rice and old rope

Sometimes I think I’m operating in a different dimension than everyone else at the DJ. Don’t ask.

Meanwhile, I’ll be taking a blogging break for a week, both here and at Grinwout’s, and will probably return with yet a new way of doing things after I meditate a bit on life, the universe and everything. Speaking of which, Martin Freeman narrates the audiobook of The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, and I really like Martin Freeman, and he was perfectly cast as Arthur Dent in the movie, but he’s no Stephen Fry. [Sigh!]

Much TVFTing occurred last night, although with a bunch of cyloning or whatever they call it when Skype eats what people are saying. We talked about CatNats and some other stuff, if you’re interested, clearing up the thing about people needing an Amex card to get into the judges’ lounge. It’s interesting how almost every tournament has a sticking point or two, and some people just hate the X tournament and refuse to go, for whatever reason. If I’m not mistaken, I don’t have any tournaments at the moment that I personally refuse to go to, not counting NatNats, which I can’t go to, so I never get so far as refusing to go to it. That is, I couldn’t go if I wanted to, the inverse of which is I could go if I didn’t want to, which isn’t true. The contrapositive—If I didn’t want to go, then I could go—is untestable, because I don’t know if I want to go or not, because since I couldn’t go if I wanted to, I don’t bother wanting to. If you get my drift.

We also talked (offline) about getting CP into the neighborhood for socializing. Last weekend a bunch of us suited up and chowed down at a Cuban restaurant, and a swell time was had by all. It’s nice to get together and not have to get back in time to put out round 6 or whatever. It was a nice day in Manhattan, and we strolled Soho and met up with O’C in WaSqPa where we were set on by one of the famous falcons, which pretty much stopped park traffic in its boots. Weird people strolling the park are a dime a dozen, but falcons? Then Kate joined us with very light-colored hair, and we sauntered over to the restaurant, where Kaz and Peter were already in progress, with JV close behind. We celebrated PC’s recent graduation (Yay!), we kept increasing the number of appetizers we were ordering, and at one point O’C consulted the council (?) about a potential solo trip to WDW (acceptable, provided there was no Foursquaring—who needs to know that he just had another Dole Whip?). After which, gelato. Ahhhhhh.

At which point, I feel that I should type YOLO, but having sworn an oath to kill the next person that types YOLO, I probably shouldn't.