Ex-Netflix employee here. They also used to call the instant watch queue a queue, but frankly, customers got really confused. Some of us used to keep lists of phonetic versions of the ways customers mangled the word. The change to "My List" happened after I was fired, but I thought, Ah, they got tired of having reps explain what it is.
Years ago I was reading The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Vol. 1 and found The Pearl while trying to figure out what the hell was being referenced in the Rosa Coote/girls' school section. I remember reading a bunch of different sections and marveling at just how much of it either featured or culminated in some kind of Sexy Flogging, and then trying to decide if it was a fetish magazine or if Victorians were just crazy about spanking.
My dad gave me a burned copy of a Fleet Foxes album a few years back! I think he occasionally buys current albums if they review well in Rolling Stone, but otherwise it's all Bob Dylan all the time.
11 - yes, goddamn it. Swiss Family Robinson forever!
You know, I was raised Catholic but don't ever remember believing - I quit when I was 17, which was the earliest my mom would let me. In spite of that, I still carry all that same feeling of guilt or inadequacy, which confuses me. How did it get past my snotty smart-kid cynicism?
Uugh, Mortality Feels. It snowed unexpectedly here last weekend and I made Mr. Quadro drive me to work because he grew up in Alaska and doesn't care about driving in snow (it terrifies me) - and I ended up getting into an awful thought loop where I was glad we brought the dog along for the ride because what if we got in an accident and died and he just wasted away in our apartment with no one to rescue him.
I told him about this a few days later and he reminded me that the police would probably come check out the apartment and weirdly, that made me feel better? Horrible thoughts about death! Sometimes we have them!
If you live in a place with a lot of ravens (SE Alaska, for example), you cannot put groceries in an open pickup bed (or leave food unattended on a picnic table) or the ravens will fuck it up. They will also scatter your garbage everywhere. Juneau's ravens seem fond of french fries, or at least I saw a lot of ravens hopping around with discarded fries in their mouths while I lived there.
Also I had a bunch of the Fairy Books from a young age and have a whole shelf of them now. It's a shame that the Brown Fairy Book has an introduction noting that the stories have been cleaned up for the enjoyment of "white children."
WHERE WAS THIS LIST WHEN I NEEDED TO BUY A FIVE YEAR OLD A BOOK FOR HER BIRTHDAY (THREE WEEKS AGO)?
I got her a copy of Where The Sidewalk Ends that came with a CD of Silverstein reading some of the poems, mostly based off of my memory of having a cassette of the same and listening to it to it ENDLESSLY. At her party, she made me read her the picture book version of Frozen, then made someone else read it to her again, then insisted that the CD that came with IT be put in so she could take it in two more times. She'll... she'll grow to appreciate our gift.
See: Why I never actually read all of The Tempest* in my Humanities class senior year. ("I saw it on Wishbone. Close enough.")
*I may have a degree in English Literature but I basically don't like any non-history-or-tragedy Shakespeare.
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quadrophonicsound 
Brainchild