Dear Alex oniugnip,
I am sorry. I can't text fast enough to keep up with you. (When I write my cyberpunk novel, remind me to replace "write" with "text" globally.) The word on the Portland street says that at the xkcd talk, Guido asked a question about Python, and Knuth asked a question about algorithms. It sounds like the beginning of a joke. "So, Randall Munroe, Guido van Rossum, and Donald Knuth walk into the Googleplex..."
Yesterday was my third day lifting weights, and it didn't hurt as much as the second day. I went to a vegan potluck at Blue lovemotionstory's house, where I had some terrific non-meatloaf and non-egg salad. I brought my usual. I've lost any facility I ever had at Wii Golf, but I cleaned up playing Set, at least. Then I met a fellow named Daniel who seemed to know a lot of people I know, and we ended up biking together to the Free Geek holiday party, where I danced and danced and tried and tried to take pictures that weren't awful. I gave the last of my business cards to a guy from the comedy troupe that performed there. I've never run out of cards before. It's kind of cool.
There was a fundraising auction, and I somehow managed to win ten hours at a recording studio for $50. So, that might be cool! Of course, it might also turn out to be some dude's basement, but hey, it's for a good cause. I also won a necklace, which it turned out someone else had had his heart set on (he wanted to give it to his girlfriend), so I sold it to him at cost, with an option on his mortal soul.
Four minutes ago, Jeff freyley and Beth linettasky are supposed to be here for my second official manual-transmission driving lesson. I'm trying to coffee for it. After this, only eight more lessons until I level up to Allowed In Vehicle By Myself.
Veuillez agréer, Monsieur, l'expression de mes sentiments distingués,