Drobo.

Dro. Bo. I’m not drooling as much as these guys, but if I had $1300 to blow on one of these things, it’d be gone already. Sorry honey.

Michael Bicks talks in the NY Times about the severe heart attack he suffered (and how Tim Russert, dead for almost a month now, practically saved his life):

This is one of those times that defines your life, like the death of a parent or the birth of a child. In a split-second, you cross the invisible “before and after” line and realize that nothing is ever going to be the same. For that moment my life had been removed from my hands. But I kept thinking, I’m supposed to be invulnerable. I’d passed a stress test, drank red wine, used a lot of olive oil, exercised like an insane person. This could not possibly be happening to me.

In the end, very, very lucky to have acknowledged the symptoms when he did.

I made this word cloud of my entire weblog using Wordle. It is awesome. Click here for higher resolution.

Okay, okay, I get it. I talk about cancer too much.

A comment by Jasmine today jogged my memory of an interesting experience I had in college.

My a cappella group was at a local nursing home once to sing Christmas carols, and after we had gone around to as many individual rooms as we could, there was a longer set in the cafeteria for a larger crowd. Most residents were enjoying themselves, singing along or smiling or nodding their heads while knitting or playing mah jong, but one lady clearly had a problem. I’m not sure if it was a problem with us or with our singing or with her bowels, but she slowly and gingerly stood up right in front of us, maybe four feet away, and started to pull down her pants and relieve herself during a stunning rendition of “O Holy Night.” At first, we thought maybe she was just getting up to leave, or to get some food, or to go to the actual bathroom, but then we saw that she was trying to take a crap on the floor and realized our initial observations were unfortunately way off.

Amazingly, we kept it all in—our laughter and our stomach contents—pretty well and finished the song, but there were definitely a lot of weird looks exchanged, completely looking in the opposite direction, and physically turning around to avoid breaking the song. Not your everyday concert, but something to remember, certainly.

Note to the future nosugrefneb: Don’t cycle through your ringtones twice on the bus in search of the perfect tone for your ringer. Also, don’t turn your phone’s ringer volume all the way up in preparation for this admittedly important activity, and also don’t later change your mind and cycle through three more times, lest the guy in the corner trying to finish the crossword want to kill you.

At least 16 people were shot in Chicago yesterday alone! Wheee! Lift all the gun bans!

If you are a blind reader of my illustrious weblog, or if you read my illustrious weblog only using an RSS reader, or if you fall into both categories, you may not have noticed that I have a running Twitter feed in the sidebar. I’d like to let you know now that I am on Twitter and am tweeting at a rapid pace.

Which is just another way of saying: You should follow me.

I’ve been posting a lot more there than here recently, mostly because I am too much of a simpleton to formulate thoughts that take up more than 140 characters’ worth to convey. I could do it here, but it just seems too insubstantial to be worth it. So go there and hook yourself up with some nosugrefneb followtasticness.