I have. I don’t want to sound ageist, but I live in a college town and I can’t play with 18-yr-old social malcontents anymore. =P
Sweet and fuck all. It hinges on the nerve induction study, because the surgeon doesn’t want to go in to my wrist and then find he also needs to go into my elbow at a later date, and there’s no way I can get in earlier than that. I asked yesterday when the appointments were all being booked and set up.
I can’t complain too much. It’s all being done under workcover, so I haven’t and won’t have to pay a cent for any of it. Hence, mini rant 
Yeah, I turn 49 tomorrow. While at one point in time I +was+ an 18 year old social mancontent, I’ve spent over 30 years playing with a large number of different people and I’m no longer willing to tolerate the bad ones. I’m in a decent group now where almost all of us are over 30, but if that goes by the wayside, or should I find the time for more boardgames, I’m definitely looking at posting for “Over 30, no SOs at the same table unless you’re both mature, no idiots, assholes, thieves or the unwashed. Come ready to play and be involved in the game, or don’t come at all.”
Terrible, awful, horrible news this morning. I woke up to a text from my friend Aaron; when his band Waxeater was playing in Austin last night, Elliott (their bass player) was shocked very badly. I believe his heart was actually stopped for a few minutes, though the EMTs were able to get it started again. He’s been in the ICU since early this morning; I don’t think he’s regained consciousness since then. Been checking FB and texts so obsessively all day at work that my phone died.
If this was due to negligence on the part of the venue, I swear, I hope they can take them for every single fucking penny they’ve got. Since magically making Elliott okay again isn’t a fucking option.
Shit, shit, shit.
If you look at surveys where they don’t use the word “rape” but describe various scenarios, a truly sickening percentage of men think it’s acceptable and/or are already rapists.
Zing.
Cheap or free tricks:
1.) Tape tin foil to the door, up to the top of the cat’s scratching height. They usually hate the sound/feel of scratching on it.
2.) Keep hefty but relatively soft things (shoes, slippers, balled-up socks, paperback books) next to the bed. When kitty starts scratching, chuck one at the door. IME, this one takes a couple of tries to give the cat the idea, but after that, they leave well enough alone for a loooong time.
If you feel like driving a couple of hours to Baltimore, I could put you in touch with my exboyfriend and the people he plays with. 
<Checks Zeriel’s location>
How Central PA are we talking, here? I’m in a gaming group that plays in Paoli on first Saturdays (noon to 5) and King of Prussia (7 p.m. to 10 p.m.) on third Thursdays. Ages range from fairly young to upper 40s or so, and we love games. Ping me if you’re close enough that you’re interested.
ETA: I have an original Arkham Horror, too. <tempt>
In the absence of any platitudes, I’ll hope the same thing.
If only. For a while there I was getting my gaming fix in Philly or Pittsburgh on a regular basis, but that hasn’t been happening for a while.
Yikes. Please keep us updated.
Skip the Ssscat.
You need Blender Defender!
Okay, she does this in the middle of the night, so we need something that isn’t going to give US heart attacks, too!
Thanks folks. At this point, I’m going to retract my anger at the venue–it sounds like it’s a reputable place run by really nice people, who on their own decided to shut things down until they can figure out the cause of the accident.
At this point, what I’m hearing is about as positive as it can be. So now, it’s just down to the waiting game to see how he is when he wakes up.
If you’re a touring musician, it’s probably a really, really good idea to carry a GCFI tester and use it every time you set up.
All the best to Elliott - here’s hoping he wakes up soon and in good shape.
Dear Fellow Drivers:
It has come to my attention that some of you have not been properly educated in the use of certain vehicle safety equipment, to wit: your headlights.
Allow me to provide you with certain clues.[ul]
[li]If it is less than an hour until sundown and it’s raining heavily, turn on your headlights.[/li][li]If it is the middle of the day and raining heavily, turn on your headlights.[/li][li]If it is the middle of the afternoon and there’s any fog on the road, turn on your headlights.[/li][li]If it is raining AT all, from misting to full out gully washers, or even if you only have to swipe the windshield once very five minutes with the wipers, turn on your headlights.[/li][li]In fact, unless it is high noon on a cloudless, sunny, baking hot day, TURN ON YOUR HEADLIGHTS, because you obviously haven’t figured out when they’re needed so better safe than sorry and keep the fuckers on.[/li][/ul]I don’t CARE if you can see perfectly fine. I can’t see you. And I’d really like to see you, preferably before almost meeting you in close and uncomfortable proximity because in addition to not having your lights on, you’ve decided that now is the perfect time to make an illegal pass on a double yellow line, right into my oncoming lane.
And don’t forget to turn off the high beams. I want to see you, not be blinded by you.
No love, and way too much adrenaline,
Me
(In this case, the adrenaline is caused by pure aggravation, as I was driving home during a heavy rainstorm in the twilight tonight and saw too many people sans headlights, reminding me of some close calls either experienced or witnessed. Tonight, nothing happened except my getting almighty peeved.)
I was hoping that possibility wouldn’t occur to you.
Umm.. Earplugs?
Non-North American English-speaking producers of films, TV, and radio: For the love of Og will you PLEASE stop translating “football” to “soccer” for us Merkins. We’re not as stupid as all that.
My enjoyment of a BBC radio adaptation of a P.G. Wodehouse story was much diminished by this. It was disconcerting to be listening to a story placed in rural England, with all of these English actors speaking in various English accents, just as I would expect from having read the novels–plus a couple of cringe-worthy attempts at American*–when they start talking about the village “soccer” team.
*Not that some American actors’ “English” accents aren’t just as bad.
The local medical laboratory system where we pretty much all go to get bloodwork done when a doctor wants some tests done has…I suppose they think they’ve upgraded their system. Now, instead of going to a local clinic and waiting half an hour for my blood to be taken, I have to go online or call and book an appointment for a week in the future. So, a week until the tests are even started, then a week or two to get the results at my doctor’s office - look, guys, wait times for medical procedures are a serious problem in this city - why are you changing your policies to INCREASE them?
(I’m going to try the walk-in route today anyway, since some of my tests really do need to be done quickly.)
The number of people who don’t understand that this is quite possibly the #1 purpose of headlights astounds me. I don’t have a license and have driven a car exactly once in my life and even *I *fucking know this.
Yeah, actually, we are. 
Not that I don’t agree that changing lexical items that differ between U.K. and U.S. English is completely obnoxious.
Which Wodehouse story?
Spite. Not to spite you, but to spite Americans who point to Canada as a bastion of health care system perfection. Sorry about that.
I have a “friend in need” situation and obviously I have to help, but it kind of fucks up my life. She needs a place to stay, along with her two-year-old son. I have enough space for her and we had discussed it months and months ago.
Problem is, months and months ago, I didn’t have two probably-not-good-with-kids (and kids would certainly not be good with them) foster dogs. If my friend and her son came to stay, my dogs would probably have to go. Since they’re fosters, I could conceivably find someone else to take them and ask them to match me up with two easy, kid-friendly dogs instead. It’s not quite the same as getting rid of a pet.
But I’ve put a lot of work into these two dogs and they’ve made a lot of progress that they weren’t making anywhere else. Sending them to live in another foster home at this point could undo all that.
So, on one hand… they’re just dogs. I don’t think they should have priority over my friend, who loves dogs and isn’t demanding that I give them up. It’s just that they really do better in a quiet house and one of them bites pretty badly and they wouldn’t be able to safely and peacefully co-exist with a two-year-old. But on the other hand… I mean, they’re my dogs. And they’re not goofy friendly dogs who take transitions just fine, either. They’re scared little mill rescues, on their way to learning that people, in general, aren’t going to hurt them… but not yet too sure of that.
I don’t really know what’s right. Both seem wrong. I feel like a lousy human being.
That’s a shitty situation, SD. There’s really no good solution. 
Maybe find someone close by who can take the dogs so you can visit them a lot at first to help with the transition? If the kid were a little older, it could maybe be helpful for the dogs to have an opporunity to be exposed to more people, but two is probably just the worst age: old enough to be ambulatory, young enough to not be able to really understand how to be safe around a dog with a history of abuse.
It was an induced coma, I found out yesterday. He was scheduled to come out of it today… and he did! He’s alert and responsive.
Thanks to everybody for the good thoughts. If you’re in the Austin area, there’s going to be a benefit concert on Saturday. You can also find the event on Facebook as “A Benefit for ELLIOTT TURTON of Waxeater.”
Oh, sweet. I saw you’d bumped this thread up, Guns, and I was hoping that exactly this was the reason why. Yay “alert and responsive!” 