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February 6!

Frohliche Geburtstag, sulli.

Go Eagles!

I've been remiss in keeping up the Liar's Club, but it's time for you liars to 'fess up.

My truth: I love pickled herring.

P.S. The next meeting of the club will introduce a new, exciting twist. Stay tuned.

Enjoy

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It's the official inauguration of the super-duper exclusive Slashdot Liar's Club. I am rolling out the red carpet and the front door has been christened with a bottle of Thunderbird.

Now, to begin. You get to tell as many lies as you want, but there must be one nugget of truth amongst them. Your fellow club members get to guess which one is true. The truth must be revealed within a week.

Being the gracious hostess that I am, I shall start:

1. I am Bethanie.
2. God doesn't just talk to George -- he talks to me, too, and this is what he had to say.
3. I am having an affair with Eric S. Raymond. Sorry to break it to you this way, sweetie, but I thought it would be easiest.
4. I love pickled herring.
5. I love Linux.

I live in this large apartment building in San Francisco. They're always renovating whenever someone moves out. They replace the windows and hardwood floors. Lots of banging, hammering, and sanding.

The two neighbors below me moved out, so this noise has been going on for weeks.

It usually starts in the late afternoon and goes on for the rest of the day. My floor shakes. It vibrates!

I got so tired of the noise, I ran out of my studio and was so muddle-headed I forgot my keys. I had to collect call my sweetie because my cell phone was dead and I had no money. He called a locksmith ($65 for two minutes' work!) - all because of the damn noise.

Back to the construction: They usually stop at around 5 or 6, but tonight, the noise went on until slightly past 9 pm. I called the landlord to complain. Why are the sanders still sanding so late? Don't they know people are trying to have dinner in peace? He promised to look into it, and sent someone to check on the room below, where (he claimed) no work was being done, and in fact work had stopped hours before.

But the noise continued. And still the floor vibrated.

It was only after a fitful dinner that my sweetie took a look under the bed, where the noise was loudest. What could be causing that infernal racket?

My vibrator. Under the bed. Buzzing away on the hardwood floor.

oops.