Google Reader: not-so-much.

I’m not a fan of blog aggregators, I prefer to visit the sites of the people I know so I can *feel* their personality via what they’ve done with site design, layout, etc. I use Bloglines at random, but I always feel like I’ve cheated when I do.

Don’t know what I’m talking about? What year is it? Ok, I’ll take it easy on you -

An aggregator or news aggregator is a type of software that retrieves syndicated Web content that is supplied in the form of a web feed (RSS, Atom and other XML formats), and that are published by weblogs, podcasts, vlogs, and mainstream mass media websites. - Wikipedia

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Google introduced their own reader and I just can’t get excited about it. The same ability to navigate with one keystroke (vs ctrl + ____ ) just as Bloglines and no doubt various other readers provides, it’s just as weak as all the rest and if it’s just the same to you, I’ll visit your site old school. I’m really surprised Google didn’t hit this one out of the park with a new feature no one else offers. Maybe I’m missing something? You know I have the attention span of a hamster on crack…if I’m not in love with it in 3 minutes, I’m never going to be. Maybe it’s because I don’t use the tools to cull for new stories and world tragedies. Who knows.

Now for my big *however*. I will point out that readers/blog subscription sites enable those of you who either a) fear the NSFW-ness of my site or b) are visiting from places of higher learning and being kept down by THE MAN (aka are blocked) the freedom to visit my site unafraid. So you’ve got that goin’ for ya. Which is nice.

Want to feed me? http://www.maigh.com/atom.xml

From the “why the hell didn’t I think of that” files, this site blatantly stolen from a post on Craig’s List…

Flirting In Traffic

When I step away from the keyboard this morning, this is how my day will unfold: I’ll shower, get dressed, and be out of the house in half an hour. I’ll stop for my morning mocha at the place a few doors down. I’ll swing by the Krispy Kreme on Ponce to pick up a dozen glazed, and the hot sign will be on. I’ll go to the office, check email, respond to a few and have a meeting with my boss. I’ll go from that to a meeting with a client, toting my Krispy Kremes along as a bribe for his time. I’ll regroup from that and document the results. I’ll check email, and see if anyone has commented on the site, if so, I may or may not respond. I’ll go to a steering committee meeting. I’ll run home at lunch for a sanity break and by the bank if I have time. I’ll go back to the office, attempt to address a few more issues and have another meeting. I’ll leave at 5. I’ll go by the grocery store and pick up the bits I need to make dinner. I’ll bathe (yes, again), cook, and watch shows from the DVR. I’ll wish I’d had time for a manicure, because when I go too long between appointments my nails rip below the flesh line and are too long to type well. I’ll collapse into bed and drift off to sleep after creating a mental to-do list for tomorrow.

This is what I wish today was going to be like: when I step away from the keyboard, I get a phone call that I’ve been nominated for a Nobel Prize based soley on my compassion and the love I have for others and my want to see them happy (some might call this co-dependency or naivety, but they’ll call it brilliance and the hope for the world). The endorsement calls will start coming in because I’m sporty, witty and smart (intermittently and rarely more than one of the three at the same time). With my new fortune, I’ll pay off the debts that belong to me, my family, and my close friends. I’ll open a Soup Kitchen in the hood and call it “Made with Something” where “something” = love as part of an old, inside joke. There will be a shelter for battered women with children attached, and there may or may not be a team of hit men on call. I’ll find and back a presidential candidate that doesn’t make me embarrassed to be American. I’ll open a few small businesses based on ancient ideas to see if they can work…you know…for giggles. I’ll give as much as I can to breast cancer, pancreatic cancer, and brain damage research, as well as local arts and music programs. I’ll travel a bit, buy a small place on a beach and one in the mountains. I’ll sleep a lot. I’ll keep writing.

In the meantime, the moon slowly being lit by the sun, and I need to get in the shower.

Kissy boo!

Last night at NHP while delivering a half hearted attempt at trivia, I pulled an answer out of my size 4 arse that I’m both proud and ashamed of at the same time:

What was James T. Kirk’s middle name?

Yes, darlings, it’s Tiberius (corrected spelling courtesy of Raoul and his I’m-smarter-than-you-itis), and I knew it. If it wasn’t official before, it is now: I’m a dork.

I don’t know what got into me the other night in the store. I was headed for a new jar of Carmex and I came across a vast array of lip products and their clever packaging. I picked up the Blistex based on…I don’t know what. A vague recollection of a commercial? The nifty box with the promises to hydrate and penetrate right there in English with all its glorious innuendo? The super efficient / ultra smooth rolling tip it promised to hold inside? Whatever, it it was, my choice was a mistake.

This stuff is stinky.

Blistex Lip Infusion is concocted with - I can’t quite place it, maybe it’s a hint of coconut? Maybe it’s a dash of anti-freeze. What I do know is it rolls on in too great a quantity to be of any use, makes a [stinky] mess of my lips for a few minutes then disappears. It leaves me wanting and unprotected, and with a great looming shadow of guilt for having cheated on my old, reliable, perfect Carmex.

The batteries that exist to fuel my camera are always crapping out at the most inopportune time. I haven’t put the effort into determining if it’s the amount of camera use that gobbles them up or if they’re (the battery manufacturers) out to get me in general. Either way, I’m contemplating selling the rest of the photo collection (see upper right hand corner) on-line to raise funds for a new camera and some other new gadgets. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Now, where were we? Oh yes. Me.

One of the many passive ways I give back to mankind is this: I’m the first to recognize when I’m being a bitch, and always make an effort during these times to keep myself away from the public.

This exact set of circumstances presented itself when I was due to make an appearance with the rest of the gang (ala atlbloggers.net) at Trader Vic’s for the APWBWGTTD Blogiversary last week. Eyewitness testimony and photographic evidence indicates a good time was had by those in attendance, even sans yours truly.

While the blogging kids that make Atlanta go round were throwing back adult beverages, I decided sushi and sake would serve as corrective action for my ‘tude. I rang up my old pal Paulie (who I knew was also bagging the event) to tell him I was headed for Ru Sans with a book and my anablog and that he was welcome to join me if he wished. Always a gentlemen willing to respond to a damsel in distress, he showed up on time with a smile and a kind heart. We shared a meal, mocked the youngsters dropping sake-bombs, and caught up on the mating habits of our peers. Hell, he even let me crush his head with my chopsticks.

On a totally unrelated note, you may lie awake at night asking yourself how many puters a 30-something gal who lives solo in a 2br/1.5ba full of books, pictures, candles and memories needs to survive. I know you do, and it’s ok. The answer: three.

One in the kitchen – used to pay bills, blog, pay bills, email and pay bills.

One in the bedroom – used as the worlds most expensive night light and oh yeah, iPod updater.

One that keeps me company to and from the office and doesn’t get looked at on the weekend…unless.

I bought a life on eBay last week, but it hasn’t shown up yet.

Giddy.

Yes, darlings, Jason’s site is down (for those of you who know what I’m talking about) and yes, he knows. Not much he can do about it, and even less that I can do about it.

Hang tight, he’ll be back on line eventually.