It has come to my attention, through the gazillion articles about blogging that have been showing up recently, that I am deficient in my linkitude. After all, Blogs started out a forum for people to share cool things they'd found on the web, not a forum for me to complain about my teeth. So here's some making up for lost time:

Run Antarctica (courtesy of BarCodeKing)
On the one hand, the penguin-spotting opportunities are probably unparalleled. On the other hand -- 26.2 miles? In Antarctica? Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it hurt to breath deeply when it's really cold out? On the other hand -- Jane, you were looking for a trip to the Great White South. Wanna start training? (Maybe I can be on the support team, handing out cups of... ice, I would imagine)

The Hydra could have been based on fact.
Ok, that's a lie; but two-headed snakes aren't all that uncommon, apparently. They're also not all that fearsome. I love this quote: Even in captivity, there are problems. Snakes operate a good deal by smell, and if one head catches the scent of prey on the other's head, it will attack and try to swallow the second head. And I though my sisters had some vicious fights.

Eric, who I work with, has a blog. It's cool. A couple of other cool blogs I found (through the aforementioned articles about blogging) are BoingBoing and Mister Pants.

Finally, an IM conversation I had with Wendy today, which lends itself to both blogging and linking:
wendy: marshall thinks this is what the burglars are doing with my old computers - http://www.wired.com/news/mac/0,2125,50820,00.html
wendy: but with crack
sjerslix: Ah yes.
sjerslix: That may have to go into the blog :-)
wendy: I like the name of it. the ibong
sjerslix: Heh yeah
wendy: "We saw the MacQuarium and said, 'Let's put a bong inside one instead,'" Agapornis said. "We were probably stoned."
sjerslix: Hee

Am I a real blogger now? Well, am I?

Finished organizing my books. Now like is with like, and I was able to weed out a couple of duplicates. (Not books I've bought, I hasten to add -- books I've scrounged from other people. Still, very silly.) I've also got a big, big pile of books to sell or donate. So it's been a productive endeavor. No, really.

I also discovered that the tall bookcase in my office has been upside-down since I moved in almost two years ago. Way to be observant, Jersild.

I've finally figured out who is drawn to becoming a dentist: Not sadists, as Steve Martin so enthusiastically portrayed in Little Shop of Horrors -- that's too easy. And the dentist I went to today -- a specialist my regular dentist sent me too -- was actually very cool, and it didn't hurt much at all.

No, the people who hear the call of dentistry are those who are in love with the sound of their own voice, but unwilling to talk to themselves.

The guy I saw today was a classic case. I mentioned that I lived in Hong Kong. He proceeded to strap a dental dam (a piece of latex to keep the tooth dry, for those of you not up on your dental hardware/safe sex tools) over my mouth, anchor a suction device under my tongue, attack my teeth with picks and drills, and launch into a "discussion" about Hong Kong and Japan. Could I respond? Of course not!

He was still quite a nice guy, although I disagreed with his take on Japan. Not that I could tell him that.

So yes, I had a quasi-root-canal today. Like I said, this guy was good, and I didn't feel any pain. Even now, with the Novocaine wearing off, I'm in surprisingly good shape. I'm going to eat soft food for the next couple of days, but I'm doing ok. He managed to take out the nerve without my being aware of it and put a temporary filling in without eating up the entire day. I was impressed. He also has an office on the 20th floor of a building on Wabash, meaning I had an amazing view of the lake from the dentists chair.

Alas, such views (and skills) come at a price. Poing! Thank god for dental insurance. And medical flex spending accounts.

Stupid, stupid teeth. One of my molars is being a pain in the... well, the mouth, actually. Hurts like hell. I went into the dentist, she said either you need a root canal or its this little cavity here. We'll fill the little cavity and see if that take away the pain.

It didn't. As soon as the Novocaine wore off, it became evident that filling the small cavity had, in fact, opened up a direct channel to the unhappy nerve in the suspect tooth. Owwie. I am pissed.

How we missed this when I was at the dentist three weeks ago, I don't know. I'm bummed. And in pain. And grumpy. And afraid to eat of drink anything, as it makes my tooth hurt. And constantly flashing back to that damn scene in Cast Away where Tom Hanks does self-dentistry with an ice skate. Shudder.

The only thing that lifted my mood today, post dentist, was this: The Secret Diaries of LOTR folks. Funny as hell. I think I'm going to get an "Aloof, unavailable elf princess" t-shirt. Or "Still the prettiest." Or "Pervy elf fancier."

Yes, I am a geek.

I got a couple of new bookcases, as I have a hell of a lot of books. This is a good thing.

I've talked about my book jones before. For year, the Tribune company fed into my addiction by having an annual charity book sale, where they sold every single book and CD that had come into be reviewed of covered by the paper, for very, very little money. We're talking niiiiiiiiiiiice new hardbacks, coffee table books, recent releases, review copies -- everything. I would typically buy, say, 30 to 40 books a year, just from that sale. Mostly hardbacks. Bliss. Then there's the books I get as gifts from family and friends, the ones I see and must have at garage sales and used books stores, and the ones that suck me in via Amazon or physical bookstores. So, um, yeah: A lot of books.

But back to the bookcases. They're your basic cheapy home-depot bookcases. Nothing special. Except they're empty. I could just fling all the books I have stacked on windowsills and any other flat surface into them with no rhyme or reason -- that's what I usually do. But this time, I thought better of it. Why not take the opportunity to organize my books? I can weed through them, see the ones I want to sell or donate, make sure I know where everything is... it'll be great!

No. No, it won't.

I've emptied half my bookcases, and covered my dining-room table. I have a hell of a lot of books.

If you don't hear from me for some time, I've either been buried under a pile of books, or been seduced into opening just one -- just to leaf through it -- just for a minute -- ooh, this is cool -- oh, and look at this -- I almost forgot I had this -- wait, what time is it? What day is it?

I hope Wendy will send a search party if I'm incommunicado for too long.

Chicago river: Still far too green. Make it stop.

From Jorge, my brother-in-law:

International Health Study

• The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
  
• On the other hand, the French eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
  
• The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
  
• The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.

Conclusion: Eat & drink what you like. It's speaking English that kills you.

I should emphasize that Jorge is a native Spanish speaker who also teaches French, so he may be a little biased.

Andy got robbed. That sucks.

He left a message on my machine giving me permission to mock him for living in the hotbed-of-crime swanky neighborhood he's in, rather than a nice, safe, crack-riddled 'hood like mine. I wouldn't do such a thing, because I know how much it sucks to get robbed, and how paranoid it makes you.

Sorry, dude. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I mentioned that the city dyes the Chicago River green for St. Pat's Day. It's still green this morning -- the sort of vibrating green you'd expect to see in a Tim Burton movie. It's very disturbing.

Granted, the river is usually a sort of gray-green, but this is just wrong.

My friend Laura was telling us about the hell that is jury duty at dinner last night. Like most of our friends, Laura doesn't suffer fools gladly. Unlike most of us, she has no qualms about letting her displeasure be known, no matter how important the idiot in question is. This makes for an interesting trial.

The highlights:

• Laura reprimanded the judge -- the judge, the guy who can declare you in contempt of court and lock you up -- for consistently starting court much later than the scheduled time. As a result, the jury had its call time moved back so it's more in line when things actually start.
  
• She became so disgusted the the prosecuting attorney's badgering of a witness that she fixed Glare of Doom #468 (a particularly potent weapon in her Glare of Doom arsenal) on him for the duration of his questioning of the witness.
  
• Said Glare of Doom freaked the prosecutor out so much that he actually called a sidebar, presumably to tell the judge "Make her stop looking at me!"
  
• The judge, being thoroughly cowed by Laura, pretty much told the prosecutor to suck it up and get on with the case. Laura remained unreprimanded and free to express her contempt.

I don't know what this actually says about the state of justice in this country. Never having been on a jury (I know, I know, I've just doomed myself), I have no idea how I would react. I'd probably have a seriously hard time not jumping in during testimony -- "Wait, that makes no sense! What sort of idiots so you think we are?" Hmmm. Probably not a good thing.

St. Patrick's Day. What's Gaelic for "Bah, Humbug"?

Chicago goes nuts. Frat boys drinking, river dyed green, multiple parades.... everybody's Irish. But, with a few exceptions, we're all American. Maybe we have some Irish ancestry (I don't), but for the most part, it's all just posing and drinking. If it stopped there, no harm, no foul. It's the "I'm Irish, and therefore I support the IRA!" bullshit that sometimes happens -- the knee-jerk "I know what this country I've never been to really needs" etc. etc. thing we tend to do.

Don't get me wrong: Celebrating your family's history is a great thing. I make the Danish Christmas cookies my grandmother made, and suchlike. But where does celebrating your history fall over into trying to dictate what another country entirely does? Sending money to people who blow up things, I would contend, does that.

Hmm. The Portadown News rubs off on you, you know?