Test 1, 2, 3.

Why is it that when I read fiction about a topic I'm interested in, I could read for days, but when I try to read non-fiction about a topic I'm interested in, I read for five minutes until... Bored Now: Kitty! And then I drag myself back and read some more until Bored Now: Internets! And it's not for lack of interest. I mean, the whole reason I took "Topics in American Book History" was wanting it to be about the structural and manufacturing processes of book production, but while there were hints of it throughout the course, the majority of it was cultural analysis of what does it all meeeeeeeeeaaaaaan? So, for my "Formal Essay" final writing project whatchamawhosit, I decided to do a research paper on the stuff I wanted from the course, so that I would actually get the information. And it is interesting! Like the switch from leather to cloth and casing-in versus binding on boards and changing it so that instead of one person binding the book start to finish, it's all assembly line tasks, so that they could hire less skilled workers on the cheap and eventually replace them with machines (who will eventually rise up and take over the earth!).
So here I am all, "I want to know this!" and my brain is just like, "Nope, naptime!"

nor am I even vaguely obligated to make you all look less assholish than you actually are.
But I did it anyway by making a card for Jody for everyone to sign.

You do not get cookies for that.

After signing the card, both Man and BMR asked me what else I was doing for Jody's going-awayness (Mick did not ask because Mick is not here for Jody's final week due to an "out of state emergency"*, so he won't even be signing the card). Now, I am doing other things for Jody's last day. I'm making her peanut butter cookies (that I will not be giving to her until the end of the day because otherwise she would be the nice person that she is and share them with the jerkface brigade). I also made a card that is just from me (it was originally going to be the group card, but then I decided it was too pretty to have Douchebag Duo germs on it) with a nice note about how awesome she has been. But seriously, what else am I going to do? The only reason you did the minimum of what you could possibly do is because I provided you with the writing implement and thing to write on, and you want to know what else I'm gonna do? GAH! What I'm gonna do is smack you upside the head, that's what I'm gonna do.


*Based on personal experience working with this man for almost 5 years now, every instinct I own is screaming that this is a load of crap.