wanna go HOME now...

  Sugar Hard Thinks Make Yes

1 March 2000

7:38 PM: Potluck lunch at work today. I brought donuts. It was scheduled for the god-awfully early hour of 12 PM. True to form, I set the alarm for early, woke up, didn't get up, fell asleep again, and ended up getting here 15 minutes late. Which was fine with everyone else since that's when they were ready for dessert, having vaccuumed up everything resembling actual food and leaving only chips, jelly beans, and gummi bears. Where is the problem, you ask? Not so much a problem. I just wanted meat. Luckily, one of the other techie guys they invited was even later than me, and he brought this amazing crockpot roast chicken thing. I ran up and stole a wing. Gnaw gnaw, grrrrr. When the young people pack us all off to camps, you'll wish you'd practiced snatching food too.

My current real need for a new computer seems to be inversely connected to the price of our stock. Downside of laptops: working in bed, one tends to fall over and go to sleep. As downsides go, not a bad one. But since something lately is compelling my mouth to make sounds like "Sure I can help you with that," a conflict is building.

What would be ultraneat would be to have an office. I could put a coat tree in it, and an old vinyl couch, and a big wooden desk with a gun and a bottle of whiskey in the back drawer. My brain would let me keep an office relatively clean, because it's a "public" space. People who've seen my desk at work might laugh at that, but those are people who have never seen my front room.

I'm not even going to think about a secretary.

9:06: After last week's and last night's Buffy episode, choosing a pinup for March was a no-brainer. Faith took a show that was beginning to crumble into "Dawson's Dark Shadowy Creek" and ran a few welcome megavolts of tension through it. Even the wink-wink Tara/Willow thing heated up. It would have been nice if they hadn't devoted quite so much of the second half to Buffy-inhabited-by-Faith but I suppose SMG is the star of the show and all.

Ah hah. Figures. Joss Whedon wrote and directed it. Joss, Joss, don't you notice the roller-coaster-like changes in quality between the times you pay attention and the times you don't?

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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