Last night my housemates both concocted emergency plans with their folks in case of, well, emergency. Now that we've actually started dropping the bombs, everyone's guessing that it's only a matter of time before some kind of holy hell is dropped on us. My mom was worried when I talked to her on the phone. Being in Boston, I'm apparently much closer to the "danger zone" than I was in Santa Cruz (the only reason one would attack Santa Cruz would be a strong hatred of patchouli stink), but I politely scoffed at my mom's concern, and told her I didn't think there was really much of anythng to worry about.

So I was pretty surprised when one of my housemates told me her family's emergency plan was to meet at the family farm in Texas. I mean, I was thinking emergency plan of the duck and cover variety, not Stephen's King's The Stand variety. Suddenly I'm having mental pictures of travelling across a country of burnt rubble, searching for any other form of human life. Am I naive in thinking that's really not bloody likely?

Alright, so maybe a lot of people would say I'm naive as hell, and that that naivete is what makes Americans so stupid, provincial, and hated by pretty much everyone in the world. (And don't think that because some nations are 'supporting' us in this war means they don't hate our stinking guts. They're just smart enough to know that if they don't have a lot of global clout, they should keep their hatred to themselves.) But am I the only one who thinks our Department of Homeland Security protection measures are a fucking joke? I mean really. A color-coded alert level chart seems more suited to Sesame Street than to domestic security. Duct tape and plastic sheeting? I want to know how shifting a bunch of bureaucratic departments around in Washington to create a big new department with a pathetic sounding name is going to protect anyone.

I said it a year and a half ago, and I'm going to say it again. The only way we can prevent terrorism against us is to stop terrorizing other people. We still have yet to take a good, long look at our foreign policy, and our history of international interference. Maybe, just maybe, talking to people about their grievances, and about our own, instead of running around like a bunch of belligerant 14 year old boys, would be a much more efficient and intelligent first step in the "war on terror." But I suppose that would require intelligent people in charge of this country, and god forbid we allow that to happen.

Oy vey.

There's only one good thing that can come of this - maybe people will start to realize that Bushie is a moron, and we'll get a new and improved president in 2 years. Although I'm not sure that would really make much of a difference.

So it's completely pathetic that I haven't written anything new in over a month. I keep telling myself that I'm still adjusting to the move, and that once I'm settled I'll get back to writing, but that's really just a half-arsed excuse because I'm lazy. And I've been spending too much time watching the first season of Six Feet Under on DVD. My housemates and are obsessed. I mean, I've been obsessed for a year now, but I made sure they became obsessed, too. I'm serious. Once you start watching it, it's like a drug. And having the season on DVD means you can just keep watching. I'm glad we didn't rent every episode at once, or I probably wouldn't have had any sleep in the past week. I am usually much too attention deprived to watch tv for more than an hour. That's how good this show is. But I digress.

I really want to write something. There are crazy things going on in the world, and I feel like I should have something to say about them. I just moved across country, to a strange and foreign land (if you're from California, everywhere else is a strange and foreign land), and I feel like I should have something to say about that, too. I've been reading a lot of excellent books, and seeing a lot of great movies, so I should probably have something to say about those. My brain just doesn't want to function in any way that would allow me to write a cohesive, polished narrative about anything at all. The most I can manage to pull out of my arse are brief sentences, maybe even a whole paragraph. Anything more just feels repetitive and pointless.

Hm.

I'll have updates by Monday. Real ones. I promise.

Hm. This is very strange. Today was my first day at a very thrilling I'm sure new temp assignment. I arrived at the office of the Worker's Comp Research Institute at 8.45 am, ready to begin very thrilling I'm sure tasks like data entry and filing and what have you. Well. I've been here for over 3 hours now and have yet to speak to my immediate supervisor, or be given anything resembling work to do. This is unusual. In all my years of working for temp agencies, and being sent on assignment to all manner of strange places of business, I have never been left to sit alone for 3+ HOURS on my very first day. I already read the news (which I haven't really been able to do for a few weeks, so that was great) and caught up on all my email, even writing to people to whom I nothing of interest to say. I'm feeling paranoid that I'm going to get caught fucking around on the job, but there is no job to speak of! And they specifically wanted me to come in today instead of Monday for why?

In other news, it is damned cold today. I'm not just saying this because I'm a wimpy little California girl, oh no. Even the natives are shocked and dismayed at the extent of the evil cold today. I thought my head was going to freeze and fall off on my short walk from the train station to the office. The wind was intent on hurling little particle of icy badness into my eyes, and I think some very crucial part of my brain is now frostbitten.

Is it time to take a lunch break yet? I mean jeez, I've been working so hard.

So here I am in Boston. It snowed yesterday. A lot. Alright, it probably wasn't a lot to the natives, but to me, it was a lot. Today it's all melting and muddy, but I still think it's pretty.

A funny thing I read and an interesting, in a scary, thought-provoking kind of way, thing I read:

-People have apparently taken to calling the French "cheese eating surrender monkeys." I think that is one of the funniest things I've ever heard.

-As reported in the Washington Post: Nearly half of all the duct tape sold in America is manufactured by Henkel Consumer Adhesives in Avon, Ohio. Henkel founder Jack Kahl gave more than $100,000 to Republicans in the 2000 elections.

I still don't have very consistent internet access, so the Smarmy Alligator will be relatively silent for awhile as I search for gainful employment. Wish me luck.

Yesterday we went to the new Salt Lake City Library. For some reason, I really didn't expect such an amazing library in Salt Lake City, Utah. And I thought the library in Boston was neat.