I hate New Year’s Eve. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Hate it more than any holiday should, rationally, be hated.

For reasons I can’t quite grasp, New Year’s Eve is a celebration that punishes un-coupledness even more than Valentine’s Day, that more than any other slot on the calendar demands we stand with a sweetie–and not the kind that comes dipped in chocolate or wrapped in cellophane–in a crowd of revellers counting down toward a celebratory kiss.

Bah. Humbug. Feh, even.

I’ll stop now, lest I get lost in the most unpleasant combination of self-pity and rantiness, but I needed to get this off my chest.

Now I remember why I stopped going to all-you-can-eat pizza buffets. Ooooog.

(Hmph. Either because I haven’t migrated over all my fonts yet or because this installation came with non-system fonts called by various webpages, every other thing I’ve been looking at online looks just a bit off. Not a hardship in the least, except when it comes to writing blog posts: When I type, it’s like my words are being spoken in someone else’s voice. Weird, discomforting, and just the slightest bit spooky.)

So I’m still getting used to Windows XP, the need to upgrade from (ptui!) ME having been perhaps the greatest force driving my need for a new computer. I find myself stumbling around and barking my metaphorical shins a lot, and for the strangest reason: Usually, one finds learning a new program awkward and even difficult because one has to learn to navigate around all the rough edges; with XP, though, the troubles arise from the fact that the corners are too round.

Everything in here is soft and cushioned, all the edges blunted and the angles sanded down. You could hardly upset the system’s workings if you tried, and that makes it very difficult to find my way around indeed. With all this hand-holding, there’s nothing I can grab onto, you know?

Still, it does seem to be getting the job done so far. I’ve found a few ways to be sneaky and get at the schtuff the OS wants to keep hidden, which helps out a lot. It’s just that it’s especially frustrating, finding oneself imprisoned behind the marshmallow bars of Candyland.

Here is the manufacturer’s page for Gazing’s model. It may not be the best box around, but I think we’ll do all right by one another.

I hate to say a good word for Microsoft, but they did make it mind-bogglingly easy to network Quoth and Gazing together.

Likewise, I hate to say a bad word for Mozilla, but I’ve had a devil of a time getting my email and browsing prefs and archives migrated over. I finally, taking a cue from my recent gaming experience, just went all hack-and-slash then “upgraded” the softs to make the registry happy.

I am so far very pleased indeed with Gazing, and I would go ahead and remind Catherine of what my naming scheme is but A) that might deprive Zero of some pleasant smirky time, and B) it’s kind of fun, right now, realizing that it’s quite likely only two people in the world other than myself can easily follow what I’ve been going on about today.

As soon as the shops open, which I think was actually about fifteen minutes ago, I shall go out (shall have gone out? hmph.) and purchase the next generation.

If all goes well, ladies and gentleman and so on, my next words here will be posted from Quoth’s successor, Gazing.

Catherine did this one, and it looked fun and I do so love to yammer on about myself, so here we go:

What color is most reflective of you?

Silly! Colors don’t reflect, mirrors do. And memoirists, but God knows we’ve had enough of those in the last half-decade. If I must select a color that I think represents my essential selfness, though, I guess I’ll have to go with, oh, brown. And drab green, and charcoal. In my head it is always Seattle, 1994.

What time were you born?

I think it was sometime around 16:30, but I can never remember for sure. Is this really the sort of thing that your typical person has floating around in her or his head?

What song are you playing now, or wish you were playing?

I’m giving a first listen to my Christmas-received OCR of Ragtime, and right now “What Kind of Woman” is the cued track. I wish “A Shtetle Iz Amereke” were playing, and…oh, wait, I have that power, don’t I. There we go.

Has the death of a celebrity ever made you cry?

There was a bit of weepage on the passings of Charles M. Schulz and Fred Rogers, and I expect I’ll be a wreck when Harlan Ellison passes. There actually was someone else within the last couple of years, but I can’t remember whom.

What color underwear are you wearing?

Underwear is a decadent bourgeois plot. Despite my love of decadence, though, I’m still not wearing any right now.

Do you want a baby?

Catherine’s response made my typical, “Yes, medium rare please” response to this query redundant. So, no. No kiddlies for me, thank you very much.

What does your mum do for a living?

She’s a nurse in the psych unit at Huntsville’s Crestwood hospital. I think she likes it well enough.

What does your dad do for a living?

He is disabled, and so gets to putter around the house and scavenge for computer parts.

What is your pet’s name?

Currently petless, but I think I should like a small dog someday. I’m terrible at naming pets, and can’t actually remember the last one I did so.

What color are your bedsheets?

Being be-futoned, I don’t use sheets so much as a series of blankets and fleece throws. Currently I have a pale blue blanket, a pale yellow blanket, a lovely dark red throw, and a brand-new throw that is somewhere between black and very, very dark navy blue.

What are the last 3 digits of your phone number?

This is embarrassing. I’ve had this phone since August, and I still can never remember the number. Lemme check…922.

What was the last concert you attended?

It has been entirely too long, ridiculously long, since I’ve gone to a proper concert. I think the last one was Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in 2002.

Who was with you?

A fellow with whom I’d rather not associate myself, if you please.

What was the last movie you saw?

The godawful Undertow. I intend to get out to Finding Neverland today or tomorrow, though.

What do you dislike most at this moment?

You know, I’m feeling remarkably free of dislike at this very moment. It’s a very comfortable morning.

What food are you craving right now?

I wasn’t, but now that you mention it I could really go for a sauceless pizza with spinach and artichoke hearts. Mmmmm.

Did you dream last night?

Funny you should mention that, as I woke from a dream and thought, “That’s peculiar, that’s the fourth or fifth time I’ve dreamed of that this week.” But now I cannot, of course, remember what it was.

What was the last tv show you watched?

Many many many episode of Mr. Show. I got the first- and second-season box for Christmas and picked up the third season yesterday. It am good.

What is your fave piece of jewelry?

I don’t wear jewelry, alas. It’s not that I don’t want any, it’s more that I can’t afford anything I’d be willing to wear. Jewelry, like shoes, is an area in which women have an unfair advantage over men, as attractive goods at low prices actually exist for them. If a fella wants something even moderately nice, he has to shell out for it.

What is to the left of you?

A windowsill with Buddha wearing a Christmas bow, Ganesha draped in tinsel, a random Indian woman, and Bill and the Conjunction Junction Engineer from Schoolhouse Rock.

What was the last thing you ate?

Three Ferrerro Rochers, one of which was the special Christmas espresso flavor. Mmm.

Who is your best friend of the opposite sex?

Oh, really, I can’t be forced to choose. I do love the women-folk.

What is a line from a song that is stuck in your head?

Bizarrely, I have nothing stuck in my head at this time.

Who last imed you?

Michael Manasco, several weeks ago.

Where is your significant other right now?

I am completely without others, significant or in-. Le sigh.

Do you have a crush?

Oy, do I have crushes.

What is his/her name?

But that would be telling.

What shampoo do you use?

I don’t actually use shampoo, as my hair isn’t thick enough to require it. Instead I wash my hair, like the rest of my body, with orange-ginger body wash from Bath and Body Works.

When was the last time you cut your hair?

Last Tuesday, actually.

Are you on any meds?

Yes, yummy yummy Prozac.

Do you have a mental disease?

My mental space is as disease-free as the toilet seat in a half-price whorehouse.

What shirt are you wearing?

I am ashamed to admit that I am actually wearing a UA Crimson Tide T-shirt. I’ve had it for several years now, mind, and only bought it in the first place because we were allowed to wear UA or Auburn Ts in place of our uniforms at Red Lobster one day. It has turned out, perversely, to be the most comfortable T I’ve ever owned.

What time is it?

9:17. What an odd question.

What color is your razor?

Yellow handle, white head. I am ashamed to admit that I still use disposable razors despite the environmental inexcusability of such.

What is your fave frozen treat?

Ooh! Pistachio gelato. Mmmm.

Are you sexy?

Is the Pope Buddhist? No, I am about as far from sexy as one can be.

What’s your favorite shopping store?

Like, where I shop as opposed to where I just browse and think, “Some day, when I’m bringing home the big librarian bucks”? Good old utilitarian Target, probably. I’ve yet to find any delightful little off-beat shops in this town.

Are you thirsty?

Actually, now that you mention it, I am.

Can you imagine yourself ever getting married?

I can, in the same way that I can imagine a vacation on Saturn.

Comedian George Carlin Enters Rehab Program

I mean, good for him and all, but how can this not be a harbinger of the Apocalypse?

Prospects for today include a feast at Vinnie’s Authentic Indian Cuisine, an afternoon visit with Enzie and Little Miss Emma, and an evening audience with Fifi. Then tomorrow there’s a strong possibility of Cafe Baba pastries with Rachel and perhaps some damn fine Mexican food (Americanized at Little Rosie’s or authentic-esque from La Michoacana? Hmmm…) before I return to Tuscaloosa, the City of Burning Tires.

This is turning out to be about the swellest holiday season on record for me. ‘rah!

This year’s official Christmas attire has been my new black “Greetings from the Jersey Shore” Aqua Teen Hunger Force T-shirt. It has drawn remarkably few comments, actually, which just goes to show that the general public share little in common with yer typical library-school student.