Ian Informed earns a hundred pounds, which pushes him into the 40% tax bracket.

He puts his salary of £37,400 and average council tax of £1,078 into the IFS calculator and sees that he's in the 95th income percentile.

Let me tell you about Danny Cobb. You met him once. You might not remember. You were just five years old, at a road-side diner on the way to somewhere. You were sitting on the edge of the chair, boots knocking against the crossbar, well shy of the ground. Just you and your mom.

I just put some ads on Craigslist for some stuff, but this one I had to share. I'm not sure I ever wrote about this night and if I did, it would have been on K5.

i visited an old friend the other day. haven't seen AS in three years.
we'd been in sporadic contact over that time.

he's been hospitalized/incarcerated/treated in various mental health centres.

it was delightful and terrifying and crazy.

There are two things you should know about me.

One: While I make my living spinning words to persuade agencies to give my university and its researchers money, when I'm faced with a threat to myself, I am utterly unable to bullshit my way out. I'm much more likely to simply own up to whatever I'm accused of, or at least to whatever part I could rationally take responsibility for. In most cases, this works to my advantage. Nothing defuses a boss's anger or a parent's disappointment or a partner's displeasure than saying, "You're absolutely right. I screwed up. Here's my plan for making this right."

It's no secret that I do not like winter. I didn't like winter when I lived in North Carolina, where it's chilly and damp and rainy for most of February. I especially don't like winters in New England. Boston winters are nasty, brutish and long. Days are insanely short. The temperatures are uncomfortable. The wind whistles through the streets of Chinatown incessantly. My shoes are constantly caked with mud and salt. Winter requires carefully dressing for the temperature, both the temperature at dawn and the temperature during the middle-of-the-day thaw. Winter requires restrictive clothing, and an asthma inhaler.

I don't like winter sports. I don't like winter clothing. I don't like that on the days when it's warm enough to go hiking, the melting snow has turned the trails into sticky, slippery muck. I don't like that nothing is growing in the winter. My only outdoor chore this time of year involves picking up the vast quantities of dogshit that have been uncovered in the January thaw.

A long time ago (well, April 26th) on a website not so very far away, I proposed a make-up fun challenge. Little did I know that it would go on to become the most-delayed and rescheduled Fun Challenge in the history of forever.

This challenge is now closed. Herein, thoughts, a list of participants, and some stuff. Things, also.

Update [2009-12-6 21:15:14 by ana]: Now, with authors/artists revealed.

I was a nervous wreck.

Ten years ago today, I was trying to figure out why, this time, it actually seemed to matter.

Ten years ago today, I convinced someone I was marriage material.

So, you know how sometimes you are in a situation and you think to yourself afterward, "If only I had said..."?  Well today, that was not me.  I brought my A game.

A tale of foreign people versus the US healthcare system.