Mysterious ways...

So this is how things work.

I have a really good friend who had a house warming party at his new place. My Awesome Guy and I went and we had a good time. We met his friends and talked to the ones we knew and introduced ourselves to the ones we didn't know.

After the party, I went home and looked up the friends who I "clicked" with and made friend requests on Facebook. And they all said, "Yeah! I like this idea!" Which always makes me happy. I like that people want to get to know me as much as I want to get to know THEM.

So one of my new friends posted that he had a digital piano that he wanted to give away and I just *happened* to see that post and I responded first. So I get this awesome digital piano.

I have been wanting a piano now for the past six months or so but they are a little spendy and so I've thought that when the time was right, I'd buy one. I used to play piano and I took 10 years of classical piano so it's not like I don't know HOW to play....I've just never had the opportunity TO play on a piano that is in my own house.

And now, just because I know someone very cool and just because I went to his house warming party, I was able to meet his other cool friends. And then, one of them has a piano he is giving away. Giving away. I feel like I've won the lotto or something.

That plus I get a vacuum thrown in to the deal and I'm ultra happy about that! I HAVE a vacuum but, um, well....ok, I FORGOT where the bags are for it and so I haven't been able to vacuum the living room in about three weeks and it's driving me CRAZY!!!

So. Another vacuum cleaner WITH BAGS THAT I WILL KEEP TRACK OF, thankyouverymuch.

I always feel that what you do comes back to you. You do good things for others and good things will happen back. And I don't mean, "do this so I can get this." No, that's not how it works. It's do this because it's the right thing to do. Or because I want to help someone out. Or because I know it'll make someone's day better. Just because...there is no reward in it for me other than a smile and a startled look sometimes and a "thank you!" to which I go, "you're welcome. My pleasure." And it is.

As far as bad things happening to people...even though there are a few people I admittedly wouldn't mind a house falling on them (or even a very heavy piano), I keep the thought in my head that what comes around goes around, and that includes the bad. I've seen, given time, that the people who are mean and hurtful and all that DO get their just desserts. I don't have to do a thing.

Sides, as my bro, the Notorious B.I.L.L. has said, "Karma is a bitch. And she has friends."

Why yes...yes, she does.

But enough of that. It just tickles me pink to know that connecting with people can grant me the most amazing things. And even better, connecting with people gives me that kinship, that spark that lets me relate to them, no matter who they are.

It's amazing and it's cool and it's mindblowing, sometimes.

I can't see the big picture in my life...but when I take the time and look back, I can see how the people I've met are interweaved and how events, big and small, have given me so much. Even the hurtful stuff. I've learned from that and while I can wryly say that I'd much rather have NOT experienced that...it's made me who I am today.

And who I am today has me pretty happy, for the most part.

In the meantime, I just enjoy the way people link to me and I link to them and how being kind and generous to others not only gives me the immediate happiness of helping others...but also, sometimes....I reap the benefits in totally unexpected ways.


K.

Hairography

I Loved that episode of Glee where Rachel was talking about "hairography"...it made me giggle and it made perfect sense to me.

That plus those girls were really *working* that hair...swinging it around, letting it bounce, and the blow outs!!! heh. Yes, hair is sexy.

Which brings me to my latest conundrum. I have rather short hair now. In a pique of, "I'm Ms. Independent, thanksmuchbai", I cut my shoulder length hair off. Completely redid my whole 'do, so to speak. It was liberating and a little scary. I hadn't had short hair like this for quite some time.

And I've been maintaining it. It's a nice modified bob that's a tad bit asymmetrical and it's cute. That plus I haven't dyed it (no money honey) and so my silver is streaking through it and it is kinda cool. In a total geek girl way, of course.

But now...I want braids. I want to be able to take my hair and loop it up into two pigtails. I also want to have it down to my mid waist because it's kinda cool that way....

But this means that I have to grow my short hair out. Oh, man.

And it's cut in cute little layers all over.

Yes, oh man indeed.

This is going to take the better part of two years. Yes. TWO years. My hair grows rabbit fast but it's short and for all those layers to grow out and for it to be at least shoulder length so I can start braiding it and piggytailing it and all of that...

TWO FREAKING YEARS.

This is where I wish there was a potion I could take and I could like, have long hair in two weeks. That would be nice.

But it's not going to happen so I'll deal.

I read a book about why men like women with long hair (and why women like certain types of men during their peak ovulation time of the month). This book was awesome. It scientifically broke down certain physical attributes and I was amazed.

But this part talked about how for men, a woman who had long hair meant that she was probably healthy and it showed that she could grow long, healthy hair over, say, a two year's time period (which is about what it takes to get shoulder length hair). And a healthy woman with healthy hair is likely to have healthy babies. Yes, it's all about the men and carrying on their genetic *stuff*. Hee.

Amazing, no? So even though men might not MIND short hair...something in their genomes says, buuuuuuuuuut....I really like women with long hair...even though I don't know why.

Myself? I would like longer hair just because it is fun to mess with and also, frankly, I'm getting kind of tired of this short hair business.

Time to grit my teeth and let the growing begin!



K.

How do I put this? NO!

Dear OKCupid Guy:

Hi there.

I don't know if you noticed, but my relationship status has changed to "in a relationship." Not even in an "open relationship" or "looking for extra booty" or whatever.

No, it says that I'm in a relationship. and I'm looking for friends.

So, tell me, eejit, what part of "looking for friends" do you not understand?

Oh, and then there's that little chat session we had. You know, the one where you started out by being nice and saying "hi" and I said, "oh, hullo" and then we talked and then you wanted to know if I was looking for something "more."

Dude.

If I were looking for something "more", I wouldn't be "in a relationship." I'd be "looking for something more." Is this difficult for you?

Oh, and for you to keep pressing the issue? You know, asking me if I'm being "satisfied" and if I was "sure" I was happy.

I tell you what. Right now, this very instant, I'm getting very UNhappy. Because you're being a jerkwad.

Don't come on to me. Don't tell me that you'd (insert sexual activity here) me. Don't get all mean when I gently tell you that I'm with the guy I Love with all my heart and I'm really looking for friends only.

Just like it says on my profile, you know?

*sigh*

But then again, at least you weren't like the Other Guy who sent me an email that was so disgusting and disrespectful, I reported it. That email scared me. It was mean. It was unasked for. I felt like I was unsafe and I'm just sitting here, reading this email and wanting to throw up.

My Awesome Guy was most not happy but he knows I'm a Big Girl and can take care of myself and I did.

But you...wanting to get into my pants or whatever. Please. If you're wondering why you're single, let me help you.

You don't respect boundaries. You don't talk to a woman like she's a person. You won't take responsibility for your piggish behavior.

This, my friend, will definitely ensure your bachelorhood for some time.

I hope you like your hand a lot.

It's going to be your best friend along with Mr. Lotion for quite some time.


No Love,


K.

Disclaimer: I never said I was bluffing

So I'm thinking I need to write in this here blog on a regular basis.

(Consider it my version of eating bran....)

With that in mind, I run into the age old dilemna. Exactly how much do I write about? What should I reveal about my geek self?

I maintain another Journal that's devoted to writing stuff that is more private. At least, for now. After all, I need someplace to vent and someplace to rage and someplace to let things go.

After all, GOOD girls don't do that.

I feel that strange pull, sometimes....the pull that says, "be a good girl and don't make a fuss" and the pull that says, bluntly, "Fuck that noise. Be myself and pull no punches."

To which the wiser part of me says, ummm...yeah. That hasn't worked out so well in the past in certain situations. Diplomacy is a good thing. So is tact. And so is knowing when to keep one's mouth *shut*.

It really does become a balancing act. I know of people who proudly say, "I say whatever I want. I say whatever I think or feel and if you don't like it, TOO BAD." I just look at them and think, "well, that explains a lot."

I have found that you can say the same thing to someone by using different words. Or by waiting until the anger has passed. Or by thinking it through and then deciding that it really isn't worth banging your head against the wall and so let sleeping dogs lie.

But I think, here, I'll balance it out. I'm not going to lie about a damn thing. But I'm not going to blindside anyone with Information Overload.

I may be a geek girl, but at least I can read social cues. Well, most of the time.

So I'll try to Remember this when a topic comes up that I feel must simply be talked about. Very. Firmly.

Right. Call it the iron fist in a velvet glove approach. Or, as one of my favourite quotes go: Speak softly and carry a big stick.

Yes, my friends. A big ass whooping stick. I'm down with that.



K.

The moon, the moon, the moon is on FIRE!!!

Ok.

If you're a guy and you don't like reading about woman *stuff*, I suggest you skip this post.

If you're a girl and you're not really comfortable talking about woman *stuff*, you might also want to exit stage left.

Ok. Everyone here who wants to be here?

Good.

I must thank my very very good friend and honourary sister for buying me a very special gift.

It has changed the way I feel about my moon cycle.

I know. *gasp* Strange, but true!

Here's the thing, my precious ones...part of the reason I abhor my moon cycle is the mess. I mean, I know I'm supposed to rejoice in my womanly goodness but I can find other ways that don't make me feel like a bloated cow. A bloated cow that is bleeding out of private places. Profusely.

Seriously, the first day or two of my moon cycle, I might as well be cast in a horror film.

And the toilet paper company LOVES me cuz I seem to go through about three rolls a DAY because of my insistence on being *clean*. Or at least, as clean as I can be.

And then, I use pads and so I have to roll THOSE up in toilet paper too because it's so gross to not do so. I mean, really.

And...yeah.

But my sis gifted me with a Diva cup. What, you may ask, is a Diva cup?

It's a little container that you insert to sit snug right there whereabouts a tampon goes (a bit lower though) and it catches your moon cycle. No mess. No worries about overflow or staining the sheets and/or your panties.

OH, no. It just goes right into this cup. And then, you gently take it out, dispose of your moon cycle, rinse the cup out, and insert again.

Ta da!!! It's better than rabbits and top hats, I swear.

And very little mess!!!

And it's so neat. I can barely feel that it's there and it saves TONS on paper products from the pads and such and I am so happy.

Now, the moon cycle is still not my favourite thing. I still get cramps and my breasts get tender and I bloat and I ask for lots of back rubs. My poor Awesome guy.

But now....it's a little less unbearable cuz of my Diva cup.

Do you want a Diva cup? You can order them online and they come in different sizes (cuz we all are different sizes) and it's so neat.

Here's the info to their website: www.divacup.com


That plus I also received cloth panty liners and those rock. They snap around my panties and they are SO comfy. And I just wash them.


I'm really happy that I can be green with my own body stuff, too.



Ok. Done with this woman post...but wanted to spread the word. Diva cup. If you use a tampon, you can definitely use one of these. And if you aren't comfortable with a tampon (like I am), this isn't like a tampon to me at all. WAAAAY more comfortable.



Ok, guys...you can come back. Next post will be lots more fun. Promise.



K.

Learning to Sign

I have decided that I LOVE sign language.

I am right now, learning sign language and I am having a ball. Well, except on test days, when I get myself worked up into an overanxious frenzy.

Other than that, I am learning how to communicate in a new and different way and I am challenging my brain to rewire itself. At times, it's painful. And a bit frustrating.

I feel like I'm standing on the ocean's edge, my toes in the surf, and I can see how very large the ocean is and how deep and how much MORE there is to it.

That's how I feel with learning to sign. I can get by pretty good now. But there is so much MORE to learn. New signs. Faster signing. And it would be really nice if my comprehension of finger spelling was just a tad bit faster.

But for the most part, it's going well.

My teacher is grand. She is a wonderful lady who makes it engaging and fun to learn. She tells us stories. "True stories" she calls them and we watch her sign.

She is one of those rare deaf people who speak as well as sign. So she speaks to us...but now, as we are progressing in class, she's talking less and less. And I sit, intensely concentrating on her hands, her face, reading her face and body language.

That's what sign is, you know. It's difficult to lie in sign. Your body gives you away anyway, and with sign language, you MUST use your body. Your face, your hands, your shoulders, your upper waist to create this...this...field in which you show your feelings, your thoughts, your beliefs.

She tells us of how hard it is to be deaf. How hard it is to be a deaf person who can also speak. She's caught between two worlds. Sometimes, it's good. And sometimes, it's frustrating, it's heartbreaking, it's enough to make you want to throw up your hands and go, "Enough! I'm tired of this shit! Enough!"

As someone who has never "fit in" to the dictates of society, I understand how she feels. As someone who grew up as a minority in a town of white folk, it's a double understanding.

I think we all speak our own language at times. I think it takes effort to want to learn someone else's language and not feel as though they must learn our own. Sometimes, we speak the same way. We all want Love and acceptance. We all want to feel safe and treasured. That doesn't matter if you live in the slums of India or the slums of Detroit. It doesn't matter if you have all the money in the world or if you struggle each day, living hand to mouth.

Pare us down to our elements, take away the pettiness and the distractions and all of us are the same, really.

It saddens me to see people forget this. It saddens me to see people divide themselves by colour or creed or moral belief. It horrifies me to see them act out on it. War. Genocide. Hate crimes. Abuse. Intolerance.

I wonder, sometimes, what would happen, if we took away all the voices. If we took away all but one way to communicate, and that by signing to one another. You can sign Hate. But you can also sign Love.

So I continue in my studies. It is my goal, someday, to be fluent in sign language. Someday, I'm going to use my knowledge of sign language to open doors, to stop abuse, to offer hope and help.

I can sign to you, "I like you." I can sign to you, "I Love you." I can sign to you, "You are beautiful."

Do you want to learn? I can show you. It starts like that. Words linked together that make people smile, that make them feel good, that make them...change.


I'm standing at the edge of the ocean, this is true, but I'm wading in deeper. I know the dangers. But I think it's worth the risk.


K.

Do these dice make me look fat?

So it's about that time of year again.

I attend ONE Con, although that might change this next winter as I will probably end up going to Con of the North.

But I digress.

The first weekend in July (around the fourth and whatnot), here in my fair city of Minneapolis, there is a Con.

Ah, yes. For those of you who don't know what a Con is, let me explain.

First, the dictionary says:

CONVENTION

Pronunciation: \kən-ˈven(t)-shən\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French or Latin; Middle French, from Latin convention-, conventio, from convenire
Date: 15th century
1 a : agreement, contract b : an agreement between states for regulation of matters affecting all of them c : a compact between opposing commanders especially concerning prisoner exchange or armistice d : a general agreement about basic principles or procedures; also : a principle or procedure accepted as true or correct by convention
2 a : the summoning or convening of an assembly b : an assembly of persons met for a common purpose; especially : a meeting of the delegates of a political party for the purpose of formulating a platform and selecting candidates for office c : the usually state or national organization of a religious denomination
3 a : usage or custom especially in social matters b : a rule of conduct or behavior c : a practice in bidding or playing that conveys information between partners in a card game (as bridge) d : an established technique, practice, or device (as in the theater)

Wow. Learn a new thing every day, huh?

So anyway, THIS particular Convention is called CONvergence and it's the meeting of the minds, as it were. A meeting of all things Science Fiction and fantasy and a mash up of movies and tv and comics and gaming and anime and fan clubs and music and art and...and...and...well, just a whole bunch of cool stuff.

Of course, when it involves all sorts of alcoholic drinks and licentious behavior, the meeting of the minds becomes a wee bit...muddled, shall we say.

There was a time, long, long ago when I attended a Con, running around in outfits that would definitely have me arrested in a small town. And then, I'd be starring in my very own Prison Love Movie. *cough*

But I'm supposed to be a responsible person, now, and besides, I'm bringing my two sons to CON this year and I would rather not have them horrified by anything that *I* might do.

So this year, I am going to be a Good Girl (for those who know me, I can see your eyes rolling. Yes, I can).

Then there's the other little Matter.

I have discovered that even though I have pretty awesome genetics, Father Time is an asshole.

And I have a burning hatred for Photoshop when used to make a person something that isn't real. Also, for magazines that show pictures of people who are inhumanly beautiful. Perfect. Skin, hair, face, body.

Let's not even get onto the subject that anyone who is a say, size 6 or above is invisible, sexless, and unattractive. Yes, let's not.

As it is, I'm rather reluctant to run around like Sheena of the Jungle when my version of Sheena is someone who's wearing nicely around the edges.

I should be OK about this but let's be honest. I'm not. I'm not crazy about the fact that my middle makes me look like a koala bear. Or that I have discovered cellulite on my thighs. And other places. Or that my underarms are now doing that crazy chicken dance. And then there's my breasts.

Last year, I got all excited because I thought that somehow, my breasts got bigger. To give you an idea, I can shop for bras in the girls' section at Target. So you can imagine my delight when I thought that I had gone up a size. I had some cleavage. Well, it was there, honest, it was.

And then, I realized that what happened was that some of the firmness in my top shelf...well, it eroded.

So I'm not a perky A cup. I'm like a semi enthusiastic almost B cup. That's cheating, I'm sure.

But to go on...

I'm happy that I've decided to stop colouring my hair...at least, with normal colours. I'm getting silver strands and it actually looks kind of cool. Of course, I keep wishing that it would materialize into a Grendelesque streak. Or be more like Kitty Pryde's. Alas....no.

But it still looks kinda neat so until I have the funds to dye my hair with dark blue and light blue highlights (because it would look wicked cool), I'm content to let my hair silver naturally.

I have plans, of course, as far as my traitorous body is concerned. They involve lifting weights to tone my arms (and to make those chickens roost, damn it). And to go swimming. And to go on bicycle rides.

All those neat things. Although, I DO see a bit of a logistical problem with getting into a swimsuit without feeling like I should immediately tie a handkerchief around my eyes and ask for a cigarette...

Still. I can either whine about my body or I can do something about it. I'd much rather do something about it.

And yet, I am careful with this because I realize that I've been swallowing the same poison that other women and girls have also been swallowing for years. That expectation that I should look a certain way. I know the fountain of youth has been desired since almost the beginning of time....but I also know that somehow, becoming older and *gasp* showing one's age is repugnant and wrong.

And that's wrong. If I'm going to age, then I'm going to age gracefully and not worry if my body or my face shows my age. I'd like to think it also shows my wisdom, shows my life experiences, shows the heart ache and the triumphs....a whole story, a whole catalogue of stories, writ upon my face and my hands...my body and myself and I shouldn't feel ashamed.

So while I want to look toned and "in shape"...I don't want to try and be something I'm not. I don't want to be foolish and grasp at an age that has gone by. I'm no longer that 20 something girl.

So this CON, I'm not going to be afraid to show my age. There's more to me than my face and my figure. And I'm not going to feel inferior to those young women whose bodies are what mine used to be. It's OK. My friends and Chosen Family Love me for me. I know for sure my sons and my Awesome Guy do.

It shouldn't have taken me this long to figure that out.



K.

This really happened. Really!

I don't know if you've seen the video that has gone viral titled "This is what happens when BP execs spill coffee..."

If not, here's the video for you to giggle over. It was pitch perfect.






Did you watch the video??? Well, go watch it, for Heaven's sake so that you will get the rest of this post.

OK. So at Gaming the other night, my Awesome Guy and I showed his Gaming cohorts the video. There was a lot of snickering. And they all really liked it.

So they settled back to Game and I went back to perusing the internet (because I was there just to hang out and be around cool geek boys. I'm not dumb, you know)...

And my Awesome Guy accidentally tipped over his bottle of Coca Cola. And not that shitty crap they sell here in the USA. The one made with corn syrup that by all rights should have made us mutants by now. Anyway...THIS Coca Cola is made with REAL cane sugar.

Irony of ironies, we buy it in the Mexican food aisle. It's *imported*. From Mexico. To here. Canada also has Coca Cola made with cane sugar and I've had that and it's the motherfucking BOMB. I almost cried when the 12 pack was gone.

But I'm getting off topic here.

So the Coca Cola was spilled on the (thankfully) hardwood floor. All Gaming stops. We all look at each other and then, one of us says with a devilish twinkle in his eye, "Stop. Don't panic! It's a very small spill on a rather large surface."

YES!!!!!!

We all laughed and then another friend asked for some paper towel and I ripped off one small square and handed it to another friend who started sketching on it...and then we all snickered some more and cleaned up the very small spill.

It was so cool.

And I'm kicking myself for not recording it on my phone.

Sometimes, for a Geek girl, I can be kinda slow.

But yes. So thank you, BP for your stupidity and hubris. Because of you, our Game night was made so much funnier.

Ok, not really.


Now, who has some Canadian Coca Cola they can send me???



K.

I fell in Love at the age of 10....

If anyone is to blame for my fall into the geek world, it would be my aunt.

I received the set of Narnia books from her....all of them in a boxed set. I devoured them, one after the other and it was like this fire was lit inside of me.

MOAR!!!

So after those books, I started reading other books. One of them was called, I fuzzily recall, "Space Cat Goes to Mars." Yes. And I think there were other books in that series.

I entered the fantasy world with nary a glance back.

Here's a little secret that I want to share: when a girl has no friends and is lonely and sad most of the time, books can fill an empty void. Books can make the hurt go away for a while and I was always, always accepted in the worlds I entered. It didn't matter WHO I was. It didn't matter that I wasn't popular or pretty and that I was often afraid and cried when nobody was around.

I had a free pass, I had the Golden Ticket, dammit, to Somewhere Else.

And I used it. If I had a passport, I would have it filled with all the places I went. Narnia. The places of Ray Bradbury. Star Wars. The world of Krynn. CJ Cherryth. Stamp here, stamp there....stay here a while and just....soak it all in.

And it wasn't just fantasy. Fiction novels pulled me in as well...and poetry. And Shakespeare.

And I became a well rounded geek girl with quite the literary education at my fingertips and within my mind and, if I fell in Love, also in my heart.

I have moved from place to place and the first thing I always did, even before checking out where the local grocery store was or the gas station, was find out where the library was. And to get myself a library card as soon as I could.

I have my priorities, after all.

So it is with grave puzzlement that I see people who want to ban books to certain age groups. Books that are, to them, dangerous. Inappropriate. Seditious.

I understand that children should read books that they can handle. Emotional maturity is a good measuring stick towards what is appropriate for books and tv shows and movies and video games. Anything that we take in must be something we can deal with and not feel as though it were something we weren't ready for.

And I would like to think that those who are in charge of a child's development, whether it's their parent or their teacher or a mentor, would know what would be appropriate for their viewing or reading. And I am pretty sure that a child knows what they can handle as well. I know that I wouldn't read something that disturbed me. Or that I didn't understand.

Children aren't stupid. That has always been my stance and always will be. I wasn't stupid as a child and now that I'm raising children, I find that they aren't particularly stupid, either.

And I find that the books that are being nominated are the very books that people should be reading. Books that fire the imagination. Books that fire outrage. Books that make a person think. Dream. Feel.

These very books can start a fire within someone's heart. They can start a revolution. They can start....well, someone just might take up paper and pen and write and inspire someone else.

It's a chain reaction of fire and heart and emotion that links one person to another and binds us all together. Just by words on a page. How awesome is that???

Yeah. It's geek awesome.

So I wonder...I wonder if these people who want to ban books so that some or none can read them...what are they really afraid of?

Words on a page that can transform a person's thoughts, feelings....actions.

Powerful stuff.

Hm. In that case, we should just ban ALL books, not some.

That's some serious juju there.



K.

Stat sheet

Hi.

*waves*

This is where I'm supposed to talk about myself and tell you all about me and why I'm writing and blah blah blah.

Well, I can talk about myself a little.

And I can tell you about me a little.

And as to why I'm writing...well, that would take a few blog updates and everyone would be drooling and I don't want that to happen. Plus, no one wants to read all this stuff at one sitting.

It's like when I get all the background information for my character and it's in .pdf format and I'm looking at it and realizing that it's 300 *freaking pages long*. This is NOT Sparta!!! *wry smile*

*faint*

And that's just for me. It doesn't even cover the world or the customs or the other people or even the others in my group.

No, all this paper tree killing orgy love is for me. I'm feeling it.

Instead, I think we'll do this a little at a time.

Sides, a smart girl knows that to be interesting and not come across as self centered, it's much more interesting to give bits and bobs out at a time....a little here, a little there. More burlesque and less bombastic, please.

I will say this.

I'm a major geek girl. I always have been ever since I can remember. And just like any other flavour of geek, I have my quirks. I like certain geek stuff. I don't like others. I read certain authors and can rave about them for hours. Other authors left me cold. Same with movies and tv shows and music and....and....

And I'm blunt. Outspoken. A pain in the tush if I want to be although I find out that a person can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. There are times, however, when one just has to fire up the DeLorean and go for broke.

And I have thoughts. And feelings. And opinions. Just like everyone else. And I'll write about it and I won't pull any punches. I won't fake it. (ok...I never do fake it but just wanted to make that clear).

You don't have to agree with me. You don't have to like what I say. That's OK.

Being a total asshat, on the other hand, is not.

The Sarlacc pit is too good for you.

But I have lots to share....lots of stuff to link to because there is just so much awesomeness that is geek out there.

Lots of awesome people to get to know because they're so interesting and they don't mind a geek girl like me saying, "you're cool. I want to get to know you so I know how you tick."

And I'm not going to just write geek. That's just a starting platform, please. (think xbox then xbox 360 sort of thing).

Ready?

Fire up the Jumpgate....let's take this baby for a spin.



K.