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While driving home from work today, I glanced down at the odometer and saw it read 111,110. So I drove around the parking lot a bit, then stopped to snap a photo at 111,111:

Picture of odometer reading 111111

OK, this isn’t exactly fascinating photojournalism, but really, how often are you going to see all odometer digits the same? Your car probably has a few miles on it when you drive it off the lot, so you never see 000000. And what are the chances that you’ll still be driving the same car after 222,222 miles?

(In case you’re wondering about the trip odometer, it didn’t roll over at exactly the same time. I zeroed it because I figured it would make a better picture – all 1’s on one row and all 0’s on the next.)

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The mystery of where the Farscape miniseries will air has been answered! From Sci-Fi Wire [archive.org]:

SCI FI announced it will be bringing back Farscape with an all-new miniseries — called Farscape: Peacekeeper War — slated to air in the fourth quarter of this year.

WTF? OK, it’s not the last place I’d expect – that would be Fox, or maybe Lifetime – but the Sci Fi Channel has spent the last year and a half distancing itself from Farscape, and a good chunk of that trying to move away from actual science fiction. I guess Dune must have done better than Scare Tactics.

Hmm, it might be worth getting cable again.

Further reading: Save Farscape, in particular Sci Fi Picks up the Mini [archive.org].

Congratulations to the Farscape cast and crew! We’ll be watching!

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I swear, I cannot win with people anymore. I used to have a good, unloseable Spanish accent when saying people’s names. I started losing it on purpose when I royally frelled up speaking to someone who outranked me at the Dungeons & Demons job, and it’s pretty much gone. I wince when I hear myself say “manual” for “Manuel,” but at least I don’t confuse the person on the other end of the line.

Like today. I called a place for info on the file of someone whose last name I’ll say is Rivera. Like a good little white girl, I said it rih-VAIR-a.

“Oh, Mr. ree-VEH-ra?” asked the receptionist, and I conceded. The place called me back later and asked for a return call, and when I got the receptionist again I asked for the person who’d called, on the file of Mr. ree-VEH-ra.

“Sorry, what was the last name?”

*sigh* “rih-VAIR-a.”

“Oh, ree-VEH-ra. Let me transfer you.”

Like I said. No winning.

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While surfing around, I stumbled across Ghost Town, a truly fascinating account of a Russian(?) woman who likes to ride her motorcycle through the Chernobyl dead zone. The site is full of photographs of the wilderness, of abandoned buildings, and the few people who still live in the area. Apparently radiation levels have fallen enough that it’s safe if you stick to the roadways and avoid dust – and of course bring a radiation meter along! At one point she goes into the town nearest the power plant, and looks at a dilapidated park, looted shops (people didn’t bother with banks or jewelry stores in the evacuation, but the motorcycle shop was ransacked!), and apartments with family photos still sitting on the shelves. She likens it to Pompeii, in terms of how the whole town is frozen in time.

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On the way home tonight, we saw this billboard advertising Queer as Folk:

Billboard proclaiming 'Get Folked'

(Sorry about the image quality – there’s not much time to compose a shot when you’re trying to pull out the camera while driving by at 40 mph!)