because that angst-post is tired of being at the top of my journal
I realized the other day that my roommate's little plastic toy Protoceratops was (or at least theoretically could be) recursive: oil that began as a dead dinosaur might have become part of the red plastic that forms the toy dinosaur's tiny, frozen body. Realistically, it's probably more dead plants than anything, but still! Toy Dinosaurs: Made with real dinosaurs! How cool is that?
(I told her this, and she said she was glad she lived with me! Because...I was really excited about the recursive dinosaur, and I guess that was endearing or something. Anyway, I like her, too. She's very cool, by which I mean both classy and superbly even-tempered. Also, she has an amazing hat collection. We're talking a half-dozen fedoras in various colors, and then some. Last night, she had a couple of her friends over and we all watched Shaun of the Dead. While eating microwaved kettle corn. Kettle corn! I don't think I've done anything like that since I was in the tenth grade, and this was better than that because the people involved wanted me to be there with them and it didn't segue into creepy mind-control/fake disembowelment shenanagins immediately afterward. And because the movie had zombies in it and was not Grease. It was a great way to spend 8 to 10 PM on a Sunday. This is almost as dorky a thing to be happy about as the Protoceratops, but I'm happy all the same.)