It’s after 11 PM. I am still up. I am trying to get my webbified photo album posted. Unfortunately, I have some movies in there, including a rather long one from the Eiffel Tower, that seems to cause everything to “hang” a bit while it uploads.
When it is all done, the photo album will be available here. Please wait until tomorrow morning, though, as there are 430 MB of data to move from my desktop computer to the garage, via FTP. Yes, FTP. It’s more secure than NFS )even in our house, behind the firewall), but it’s not nearly as fast. Even so, the fastest way to move this data would be to burn a CD-ROM and walk into the other room. However, the CD burner is on the other computer, so, oh well.
BTW: Almost every digital photo I possess is on that photo album, including several that I didn’t take myself, some that may seem weird, or sideways, and none that have captions, really. Deal with it. I used a free little perl program called “album” and just auto-generated everything. I haven’t even organized these things yet. If you see a dirty picture, please just let me know discretely, so I can take it down, ok? I think I got them all off of there, but ya never know. . . . 
And no, I won’t tell you if it’s actually me, or just my head pasted onto someone else’s body.
We took Hammer to the dog park today. Again. Carl stopped by to pick up his cell phone, which he left here Sunday night. Mind you, Carl does not, to my knowledge, have a land phone, so his cell is his phone. I’m glad he got it back, and glad he was still here when I got home. I was able to convince him to go to the dog park with us, which was fun. Carl is the kind of person who seems to have an affinity with animals– he claims that every animal except pot-bellied pigs likes him. The best he can hope for from the pigs, however, is cool neutrality. Oh, well, we can’t be perfect.
To give you some idea of this man’s charming effect on animals, my dear sweet Harry actually made the effort to get into bed with him– something he was never quite energetic enough to do with us (couch, yes– bed– even the futon– no).
Tomorrow is Wednesday. Hump Day (because it’s the middle of the week, you perv!) I keep thinking there’s something I am supposed to do tomorrow, and of course, the thing I’m supposed to do is call Sienna tonight to ask her to the dog park tomorrow. But I remembered at about 10:30, and I do not call anyone after 9:30, unless their house is on fire, or I know they’re awake and there’s something urgent I have to tell them, or it’s a booty call (which I haven’t done since my dating days…).
I think the UFies have cracked, by the way. Just a public service announcement. They’re telling shaggy-dog stories now, or whatever those stupid jokes are. No, I take it back. They’re just telling punch-lines to stupid jokes.
I can’t tell which is worse. A really bad bad bad joke. Or just the punch-line of one.