Panera

I'm here at the Orland Park Panera Bread; not the one in the mall... the other one.

I don't mind the food so much, but mostly I come here for the free internet. I can do work at home, of course. But when I want to be social ( as in, not sequestered in the house with just Marius to feed my ADD ) then I go someplace that's a free WiFi hotspot, and do my work.

Today, the place happens to be Panera.

By work, I mean a lot of different things. Work work, of which I have some I -could- do, but nothing that's pressing. School work, again... mostly reading I could do anywhere. Personal or side work, including one of the few websites I'm somewhere in the middle of developing ( one for the Madison Area User Centered Design group, one for Predator Car Reposession, and my own business site ). Or purely personal work, like blogging or reading. Which brings me to my point.

All of the posts that were at the "old" blog ( except the naughty ones ) are now here, at the New and More Exclusive web thingy. The naughty ones are gone, and are now lost to the ages. So, we'll see how this goes.

Our new blogging tool of choice is brought to us by the fine folks at MySpace, and has way more versitility then Blogspot. One of the most important features is content protection, which means I can limit who sees what. the way I'll probably do it is I'll make the whole thing viewable only by members, and then if I think anyone is cool enough to read this stuff, I will invite them. Anyway...

Panera here in Orland is a Parade of Ass, for the most part. the very pretty people of this higher-end south suburb are the kind of species that defiitely put on makeup and dangling earings to head to the gym in the morning. Low riding cargo pants, tight tops and big boobs are in for women; for the men we have khakis or cargo pants, much mousse in the hair and expensive-looking sunglasses either worn normally ( though inside ) or backwards, to shield the backs of their necks from all the harmful UV given off by the fresh baked bread. It's a loud place, with typical diner-type sounds of things clinking and people talking. there's also this classical music that's piped in, from all over the spectrum. I haven't recognized any of it... which doesn't mean much, except that it's probably not Beethoven, Chopin, Strauss, Motzart, Verdi, Litz, Bach, Brahmes, or Holtz. It's the kind of semi-annoying classical tha doesn't seem to speak with a particular style. Elevator music, played at volume.

Every now and then, this cacophonous calamety is interupted with a decidedly non-NPR quality voice booming something profound such as "Number 204, your sandwich is ready; number 204" almost loud enough t make my fillings vibrate. Luckily I have this Zen-master like ability to block things out, aurally.

There's an idea for an entry, sometime. My useless talents. I'll have to remember that. Unfortunately, remembering lists is not one of my talents. Hmmmmm.

Anyway... more later, I'm sure. It seems like one of those days. Also, I'll try and get the pictures from the old posts included; they aren't, at the moment.