Okay, so everyone knows about owl pellets, right? Owls can’t digest all the stuff from their prey (bones, hair, etc.) and since they eat their prey whole, that stuff has to go somewhere - enter owl pellets.

So I thought about this - what if there were people pellets? Take that a step further, what if people excreted/coughed-up/disgorged pellets rather than pooping? Think about how much easier that is. You’d still probably have to use the restroom for liquid waste, but for solid waste, you could just chuck your pellet into the trash can.

I suppose there’d be two possibilities for the pellet - either it gets coughed up (like owls) or it comes out the other end. If you cough it up, just spit it out… but if you poop it out, you’d have to “go digging” to get it, then throw it out. Either way, assuming the pellets are clean (like owl pellets), loads of sanitary issues would be solved. Gotta take a dump? Do it. Then just throw your pellet out.

There’d be pellet disposal containers in bathrooms. Under desks. In your living room. Built into your favorite easy chair.

I told Jenn about this, and she was like, “Wouldn’t people be disgusted by other peoples’ pellets?” I don’t think so. You have to consider, if there were such thing as people pellets, that’s how it always would have been. People wouldn’t know any better - that’d be just how it is.

I think that’d be kind of cool. No more messy wiping. No more stinky bathroom. Pellet. Done.

I added a new feature to the ol’ bloggeroo, here. If you look off to the left in the navigation column, I’ve put two more links: “Reviews” and “What If?”

The Reviews link will (should) get you to my reviews of movies and such. The What If? link should get you to my more random “What if the world was like…” style articles. Like my People Pellets article.

I’m hoping to make both of those sorts of items more frequently, so I’ve added faster access to them.

The crappy thing is, Greymatter doesn’t support categories. Yeah, I should probably shut up because it’s free and all, and I don’t have access to a database, so I can’t use Movable Type or anything, but regardless, Greymatter doesn’t support categories. What that means is that I “categorize” my articles by the contents of the title: “Reviews” articles start with “Review: “ and “What If” articles start with “What If?”

What that further means is that I’ve exploited the search feature of Greymatter to search for articles that contain that text, so if you get improper results from the new links, that’s probably why.

If they don’t work, let me know; I only tested this thing in IE6 because, well, that’s what I use and I didn’t want to install Netscape. I used to have Netscape AND IE6 on the same box, but that machine crashed a while ago, so… yeah.

Pizza delivery may not be lucrative, but it’s one of the ten best jobs available. If you think there’s something out there that nobody’s done, you’re wrong. “More” is not necessarily “better.” The drapes don’t always have to match the carpet. Any innocent sentence can be twisted into sexual innuendo. They teach more than they let on in Catholic all-girls schools. My medical insurance doesn’t cover the right kind of sponge baths. Some women actually do like sex. “Sexual Healing” is a legitimate thing. The boobs are always bigger on the other side of the fence (or something like that). Anybody can make a web site - anybody. Regardless of what you’re into, there’s always someone into something weirder. If variety is the spice of life, the Internet is very spicy. Skin stretches. I don’t have enough drive space. The guy who invented the pop-up advertisement needs to be shot. Be proud of what you look like - cosmetic surgery doesn’t always improve things.

I am holding in my hot little hands two (2) tickets to American Idol - Live! I’ll be sitting in the company box in the Rose Garden on November 19 watching the top ten finalists. Stoked.

This weekend was okay.

Friday night a couple of our friends, Aaron and Melissa, came over for dinner and a movie. We ended up cooking random stuff on the grill and then watching the Superbit edition of The Fifth Element.

Tiny sidetrack: The idea behind Superbit DVDs is that the extra stuff - the commentary, the behind the scenes documentaries, etc. - isn’t there. Instead, that extra disc space is used to allow for a much higher quality digital transfer of the film. The picture is clearer, the sound is cleaner. Before, I didn’t notice the picture on this sort of thing because my TV didn’t really justify it. With the new TV, it’s a very noticeable difference. I look forward to getting more of the Superbit series.

So that was Friday night. Pretty fun, and it was good to see them again. We don’t get together often enough.

Saturday we were going to head west and visit my friend Jack at the Tillamook Cheese factory. The problem is, I think there’s a bit of a communication gap between me and Jack.

See, Jack likes to call people. He likes to resove issues over the telephone. I think he specifically doesn’t email people because he’d rather resolve things verbally over the phone.

I don’t call people. I hate the goddamn phone. I might be your best friend, but I really don’t have anything to say to you over the phone. The phone, to me, seems like a halfway sort of thing - if you have something quick, fine, call me; if you wanna talk, get your ass over here. Instead, I email people. I like to be able to read what I’m saying, process it, amend it, make sure it’s right, and send it. I like to be able to read what people have to say to me and verify that I understood it. When it’s over the phone, all bets are off. Maybe I misheard what you were saying. Maybe I agreed to something and forgot. You know why? Because I’m a very visually oriented. If I didn’t see it written anywhere, I’m not going to remember it.

That’s actually what I’m waxing philosophic over today. Communications differences in people. Some folks love personal interaction. I fucking hate people. Sure, you could pull out the “but I’m your friend! do you hate me?” thing. Understand that this is a generalization. I don’t hate any individual person necessarily; I hate people en masse. I especially hate personal interaction (and yes, that probably does apply to you.) I like the idea of large gatherings, but I hate people. I like to go to parties with people that I know, but I hate going to parties where I have to “mingle” and “meet people.” That seems so impersonal. I don’t want to meet people.

That makes me wonder - is it a sign of the times that some folks get to be more comfortable with the distance that electronic interaction puts between themselves and others? I think someone at Portland State University was doing a study about that a while ago; I wonder what the findings were.

Regardless, Saturday we didn’t end up visiting Jack. (Sorry, Jack. Email me.) Instead, we finished things up around the house that don’t normally get done, went shopping, did chores.

Jenn got this perfume called Angel that is just the bomb. Interesting story about that: I was at work on Friday and the HR lady here was in the cube next to mine and I could smell her perfume. I liked it; it reminded me of something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it was good. I asked her what it was - Angel. So I told Jenn to stop at the store on her way home from school and smell it. She didn’t get a chance to do that. Then Friday night, Aaron and Melissa showed up at our place and Melissa had Angel on. Weird, huh? Anyway, Jenn got herself some Angel (yummy!) and now she smells like heaven.

Sunday I tried to finish fixing my ninja costume for Halloween, but Jenn’s mom’s sewing machine sucks ass and decided it would rather try to eat my fabric than actually function. I’ve tried using that POS before, and it does this same thing every time. It seems to work for Jenn’s mom, but Jenn’s mom ain’t here so it just chows my fabric. I’ll just have to go use my mom’s fully operational, non-fabric-eating sewing machine.

Sunday evening we went and watched the Hawks break their three-game losing streak and win against Tri-Cities. I was scared for a while, there, but we pulled through in the end.