Purely Subjective
20 August 1999
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9:21 PM: 49 ¢ cheeborgies are back at McFeudal's. Mmmmm. Almost like food.
Very tired. Met up last night with Amelia and Lucy and two of Amelia's ex-co-workers from when she did something space-related at UC Berkeley. Went to dinner at La Rondalla or La Rondejo or some damn thing. La Overwhelming Decoro. Very loud. Food good, much shouting. The other half of the small room we were in was taken up by what looked a big birthday party, possibly work-related. There were at least five people in the group that I knew from back in SF Net. None of them showed the slighest sign of recognition when they looked at me, though. Didn't feeling like pressing it.
Anyway, much loudness, sangria, and beans. Walked home, not too far but a fair ways. Fell on bed. Woke up around 3 AM. Ah, not going out again tonight, then. Did I go back to sleep? Of course not. Did I wake up in time for my much-belated doctor's appointment today at 10:45 AM? Would we like to guess? Feh. I should have known better than to schedule two pre-noon days in a row.
Yet another mass exodus from work last couple of weeks. I wonder if The Owners think it's a good or a bad thing. To the extent that it's even come to their attention. Probably a good thing. Now they can get "people who are open to new ideas." This is a loose translation of "people who know damn well what side their ass is buttered on."
Well, try to get something done now, I suppose. Then go home. Get drunk. Erase conciousness. Sigh heavily. Drool. Rise blearily. Repeat.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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