If you want to get latitude and longitude from an address on google maps, plug in the address into google maps, zoom in all the way, then hit 'email' and the co-ords will be in the email link. Spiffy. They need to make it easier, though.
Blah, I have a cough that will not go away. Both my mother and my sister got it as well, and they went to the doc for antibiotics and phlegm-clearing medicine. I kept hoping mine would go away on its own, but it does not look like it's going to happen. I need to be able to yell a lot for horror nights, so I need this cleared up.
However, I am a little afraid of my Doc now. Ever since I turned 30, prostate exams have become a part of my checkup routine. The first time it happened I did not even know he was going to do it. When I went over and spread my cheeks I thought he was maybe going to peek in there with a little penlight or something. It was not until I felt the cold slick violation of my inner being that I realized what was going on. I gripped the exam table and a single tear rolled down my check. I felt just like Peter in that family guy episode.
I guess I probably did not need to share that.
I am going on a drinking binge this weekend. Horror nights is going to soak up all of my weekends for the next six weeks, so I need to get out while I can. Not that I exactly have a roaring social life as it is, but I do like to get out from time to time. One of the big advantages of having neither a wife or kids.
Random Pointless thoughts:
Bunch of kids broke into some lady's house and trashed it and baked her kitten in the oven. That's some sick shit, I find it more disturbing than the punks who beat up the bum. Probably a bunch of low-ear kids. Another reason I am in favor of juvenile boot camps.
A bunch of top Islamic clerics have demanded the Vatican replace the pope. Yeah, I am sure they will get right on that.
I got a coupon off of yahoo this morning for a free ice coffee at Duncan donuts. Damn right I'm going to use it.
I read somewhere Mcdonalds is going to start serving breakfast all the time. I think that's groovy because the only thing I like at Mcdonalds that you cant get better somewhere else is the Egg McMuffins.
I need more pillow cases. They keep vanishing, I can't figure out where they go. I want some crazy pimp pillow cases. Like something fuzzy, or with animal-skin patterns or Velour.
End lame blog.
2026 Update
I'm dialing this clattering time machine back to September 2006, where Ed has a GPS trick, a cough, and a fresh terror of checkups.
Ah, 2006. A time when latitude and longitude were treasure you had to pry out of Google Maps with the email button, like a magician revealing a card. Now? Your phone knows your location better than you know your own name, and the only trick is figuring out which app wants to sell it. You coughed for weeks because the doc meant a cold waiting room and an awkward checkup; now you'd be video-diagnosed by a disembodied voice in an app, and the prostate exam remains tradition, just with more paperwork. Coffee coupons arrived by email, and McDonald's breakfast was a radical prophecy. Now breakfast is all day until it isn't, and coupons are a hierarchy of loyalty tiers that require a personal relationship with a beverage corporation. Also, Ed, the pillowcases didn't vanish. They went to the same place as the single tear rolling down your cheek—a dramatic recycled tumble dryer of lost masculine dignity.
“2006 Ed, was the drinking binge really the best cure for the cough that wouldn't go away, or was it just your way of killing time until the next surprise prostate exam?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2006 Ed: Well Beelzebubba, hell, I wish I could say the binge was some kind of medicinal masterstroke, but no. Beer does squat for phlegm, and it sure as hell doesn't make the doc any less enthusiastic with the lubricant. It's more like killing time until the next surprise finger wave, I guess. I keep telling myself I need my voice clear for horror nights, but then I spend the whole weekend yelling over a pint glass, so maybe I'm not thinking straight. The cough is probably just gonna hang around until I cave and go get the antibiotics like my mom and sister. But this weekend's my only window before six weeks of fog machines and fake blood, so I'm taking it. If I happen to wake up Sunday with a sore throat and a vague memory of a prostate exam, at least I won't remember either one clearly. Take that, foul germs.
