For the Geeks:

Man- I love Matt's site. It's one of my all-time favorites. I give Matt a lot of credit for being able to write humor while not annoying the ever-loving piss out of me. There's no sense of "hey- look- I'm getting CRAZY here!!!!!!!" that tends to emanate from most "humor" sites out there. So- he's funny, a great writer, and also a bit of a geek, as evidenced by this recent piece. It's gold, folks.

On the March, on the Move.

We're flying to DC Friday after work to move AMF out of her apartment. She's decided to try to unload her furniture while we're out there to avoid a Uhaul situation, so we'll load her car up with her clothes and personal items, and then start the 720 mile drive home either Saturday night or Sunday night. We shall bond. Amazon just shipped my replacement camera, so I should hopefully be able to document the journey. Rock on.

Sheep to the Slaughter- Oh, This Must be Love!

I like to joke that AMF has a bit of a shopping cart that can be filled with the things that puzzle her in day-to-day life. In spite of this, and indeed because of it, I adore her. Yesterday night it became clear that I have my own shopping cart. The Saturn has been in desperate need of a wash, so I took it to the Mobil last night. There was a car in front of us for many, many minutes. We went through about ten songs on the radio. I cursed and complained. I got ready to hit the button hardwired to the International Mobil assistance line to find out what the hell was going on. I assumed that the Works car wash, at eight bucks, was the most thorough washing ever unleashed on the modern world. Then, I realized, the car I thought was in front of us was, in fact, the reflection of my own car on the glass door ahead of us. I punched in our code, and was in for a pretty quick and efficient wash. Dammit. And, AMF was there beside me to witness the whole thing.

We need each other, AMF and me. I'll keep her from walking in front of busses, and she can keep me aware of the fact that there will always be things that we just miss.

The Camera's DEAD, Man.

$105 to fix the cracked LCD, which just ain't gonna happen. So- time to hit Amazon and rebuy the camera. The timing couldn't be any worse:

Oh, Baby- I'm So Tired.

My boss sent me to Project Management Bootcamp last week. From Monday through Friday, I was locked away in a hotel working from 8:00 AM through around 1:00 AM. That kind of schedule can do strange things to a man, and indeed, it did. It's all through now, but even still, I can't stop thinking of every day activities as part of a greater project plan, one task dependent on another, all broken out into phases, hopefully with some contingency time build in at the end.

I was in bed by 7:00 Friday night, and I slept for about 13 hours. Yesterday, AMF and I went into the city with some friends and ice skated and then had dinner and drinks. A fine time was had by all, but today I'm more tired than ever. I'm waiting for a call from my brother to go and do something- anything- but most likely a couple of beers down the street. I don't know if this will be helpful or hurtful, but I think that I need to do something. I'm not good at sitting still.

Upon returning home, I was pleasantly surprised to find that two friends in D.C., Ed and Richard, had added to the list of useless magazines I receive. Field and Stream and Outdoor Living can now be added to the pile with Golf, Ski, Working Mother, and Runner's World. The cover of Outdoor Living seems to involve itself with a grizzly attack, so that's something. I'm thinking about reading that one- In the unlikely event of a grizzly attack, I'd like to have all available information at my disposal. Thanks, guys.

Where I Destroy Those Things I Love

Damn it all.

I always carry my digital camera in my front jacket pocket. I would never be able to forgive myself were I to drive by a roadside midget rodeo or a pair of clowns fighting and not have a camera handy. Pictures like those would be worth 2000 words, at the very least.

Then, as I was shutting the car door this morning, my jacket fell open, and the side containing my camera fell between the door and my seat. The display's all goofed up, making all my stored pictures look like they were painted by an elephant. I called Canon, and I'm going to ship it to them in the morning to see if they can fix it. Hopefully, for free.

I can think of better uses for my $150 than replacing my camera.

Elephant paintings, folks.

I Am a Paper Doll.

Tomorrow will be an early, angry bitch. I have to attend an offsite meeting along with my boss and a co-worker, and my boss likes being places early, roosters-still-sleeping early. A couple of days ago, said co-worker and myself were called into a meeting by the boss to discuss this meeting. Boss wanted our team to show a united front at this meeting, and to him, this meant matching shirts with the company logo. Our company is pretty cheap, so we don't have lots of branded attire laying around, but Boss remembered that another of our team members had ordered some shirts for another project, and that there were some extras at his desk. With this, I was sent to grab these extras, so we'd be able to dress alike. The only shirts left were extra large. I am not a tiny man, but neither am I an extra large man. Boss is more extra large around the waist, but about three or four inches shorter than my five feet, nine inches. Co-worker would be all set. He's a big dude.

I tried my shirt on tonight. It's pretty big. You can't see my hands, and the collar comes close to sliding down past my shoulders. The shoulders of the shirt, in fact, match up fairly neatly with my elbows. I can tuck the tails of the shirt into my shoes.

I called the Boss to let him know that I would not be wearing my shirt tomorrow and thus missed out on the beginning of the State of the Union. The Boss was very angry, and told me to call my co-worker to tell him not to wear his shirt, because, while it would look cool for the three of us to match, it would just look silly if only two of us were wearing matching shirts.

In retrospect, I kind of wish I'd just decided to wear my really big shirt. Seeing my boss trip over his extra-large sleeves would have really cracked me up.