My Day.

Last night's excursion to Dave and Buster's was a good time, despite the hoops I had to go through when I found that the machines wouldn't read the game card I got from a work outing two Christmases ago. Once the manager took care of that, things were good, and we got a lot of games in.

But, the thing is- the games just weren't that fun. The arcade's kind of antiquated now. They really don't offer much that you can't do on a home system, and the things they do offer just don't feel worth leaving home for. My fun amounted to hanging out with my brother and my friend, and the games pretty much served as props in the background.

I was exhausted when I got home, and I slept later than I usually do. I got up, made coffee, played around on the computer, argued wi-fi legislation with AMF (I pretended I actually understood things related to networking), and now I'm listening to Social Distortion and realizing I need to get in gear if I want to be at church in a half hour.

The rest of the day, God willing, will be spent playing videogames. Me, the couch, and a general lack of arcade patrons.

One Screen is Cool, but Two Screens are Friggin' Fantastic!

I ended up picking up a Nintendo DS last week as a little present. Now, I can whip the asses of kids across the country-- nay, WORLD-- in Tetris. This "technology" is more like "magic." Go, Nintendo. If any of you out there play, let me know, and we'll swap "friend codes."

Yes, I'm almost 30. Shut the hell up.

On the same topic, I'm heading to either Dave and Buster's or Gameworks later today to play some videogames with my brother and a friend. Good times.

Back to the Burbs.

I got home at around 11:30 this morning. Taking first things first, I fed the cat, who is craving attention something fierce. As much as I disliked the jaunt to Dallas, waking up without having to handfeed a cat gave me a feeling akin to that which I believe parents taking a break from their kids experience. From there it was church. When I got home, my brother's car was here, and he showed up from taking a walk soon after. We went and played pool with a friend, where I drank coffee served by a cranky waitress who had an aversion to bringing out cream or stirring implements. From there, Costco for razors, and now I'm home for the evening. I tried taking a nap, but it didn't take. I think the coffee combined with a general sense of geographic displacement has left me a bit out of sorts.

It's probably for the best; I have to be at a cat dermatologist tomorrow at three, so I'll be going into work as early as humanly possible to make up for a 1:00 departure from the office. A nap would have just turned the whole plan on its ear.

So, yeah- I feel distinctly amiss. It's a lousy feeling to lose the weekend to work and work-related travel, and the feeling's intensifying as I boot up the laptop to finish up some more work. Don't feel so great. Overtired, and thinking too much. So, it goes. It probably doesn't help that I haven't eaten today, save a yogurt smoothie at the airport.

And now, my laptop won't let me log in. My password must have expired, which leaves me dead in the water, as it appears it can only be changed from work.

So it goes.

Goodnight, Kind of.

Dammit.

I have to get up at three, and I'm still getting ready for the stupid trip. There's a TV dinner in the microwave and laundry in the dryer.

And, it's a pretty safe bet I won't be able to fall alseep anyways.

So, it goes....

Night. Kind of.

And, Before I Forget, and Before I Go to Sleep.

Matt at X-Entertainment does it again and presents a fantastic article about finally finding a Shamrock Shake after years of drought.

I might suggest that Matt's site is the most entertaining I've ever found. Over the past couple of years, I've spent a lot of time going through his archives. And, it's been quality time. Matt's a fantastic writer, consistently funny without falling victim to the "check me out, I'm a riot!" syndrome so pervasive on the Web, and he writes about things that matter. Check out this past piece on the top ten GI Joe figures ever if you don't believe me.

Anyways, check out his site. It's so good I find myself wishing he would lose his day job so he could write more often.

Bugged.

I had strange dreams this morning.

I Took a walk around my town, and the tiny college became much bigger. In a large quad area, there was a dog sale, lots of people selling puppies.

From here, I ended up in a building where people were selling strange insects and reptiles. Really disgusting creatures, beetles, and whatnot. One tank had headphones attached so you could listen to them scuttle and bite. There was a tank with miniature alligators, just a few inches long. Floating throughout where chewed up tiny alligator jaws, and some alligators were rolling over dead ones. Then, at one end up this area were a tank of small cobras. I screamed out when it appeared one was outside its tank, but it turned out to just be an electrical "prank." One end of it was a power cord, which made it move around like a snake. Also by this vendor were comic books. There was a Bloom County/Outland book I'd never seen, and all the comics were inspired by the Andy Griffith Show and Days of Our Lives. Thumbing through, all the comics were unfamiliar, but I couldn't remember if they were new or reprints. The book came with a T-shirt and videotape. The man at the booth asked if wanted to buy it, but then I realized I was in my old office in the city, and there was a pile of old mail of mine that had never been forwarded. My old green backpack was there. I filled it with my mail, and left.

The bugs, in particular, creeped me out.

Truman's been locked in the bathroom with his e-collar for the past five weeks. He periodically (read: continually) knocks over his water dish, so I've taken to laying a bathtowel next to it to soak up at least some of the spilled water.

I lifted the current towel this evening to wash it, and underneath was a swarm of tiny ants and a centipede. God, almighty....

I see more distasteful dreams involving insects coming tonight.

YEE HAW!

Ugh. Argh. Ugh.

I'm taking off for a business trip so early on Wednesday that it might as well be last Thursday. I'm going to Dallas, which was my home for a while back in high school. I'm not exactly jumping up and down about this trip. The fact that it's Dallas is somewhat annoying to me, though I'll be in a hotel for the entire conference, so it might as well be anywhere. More to the point, the thought of spending the rest of the week, including my weekend, knee-deep in insurance sickens me. I don't like mingling and socializing. Nor do I care much for glad handing nor back slapping. The back slapping, in particular, sits poorly with my sensitive stomach. So it goes, I suppose. This is how I get the big bucks that keep me in my drafty one-bedroom apartment.

I'll try to post from the road. I'll be busy pretending to care about what I do for a living, but as I've given up booze for Lent, I should be able to sneak away from the cocktail parties, the post cocktail parties, and the late night runs to various and sundry touristy nightclubs. Hopefully, I'll have more time in my room than on previous trips.

And, so it goes.

Sunday Morning in March.

I slept for close to 11 hours last night, and I just don't get it. I was in bed during the 10:00 hour, and woke at 9:30. Strange thing, that. My body must have needed it.

There's a dusting of snow outside, and all is grey. So goes March. It's good incentive to stay in and get some cleaning done, I suppose. AMF's back on Friday, and manners dictate she returns to a clean house. Well, except for the bathroom. With Truman in there, one has to settle for a "Not-covered-in-excrement" bathroom.

So, not much of a day.

But now, time to jump in the shower and get ready for church and the first Sunday of Lent. I've given up alcohol. I don't think I've ever given anything up for Lent before, and I think that I picked a good one. There are some who think giving up chocolate is pretty hardcore, but I consider that a pretty week sacrifice. Others probably cheat and give up things like dry ice, though their lifestyles in no way require the use of dry ice.

God knows.