Imaginary Conversations and Random Thoughts

Have a fun and safe time, whatever you're doing.

Yeah! Where are they? Well, they’re over there under New Band Link. The last time I wrote about them was here.

Turns out they’ve been working on the new album, which will totally kick ass. It will be out in the spring. Lucky for me, I can get a little fix at a small show they’ll be playing. I’m sure it will be a nice adventure and I’ll tell you all about it soon.

How many girls will be wearing NL bumper stickers on their hiney region like at the last show? Will the food actually be good food that I like and not crappy food I’m too finicky to eat? How hard will they rock? All these answers and more, in some future post with some cool sounding title!

Alan runs Strengthen the Good, and he sends a note that mentions tsunami relief. If you're interested in helping in some way, he'd like you to stop by another project he works on: The Command Post. You can find an updated list of links for help here. You go look now!

So I was looking around and saw a couple of things, one from the big cheese, and one from some other guy named Steve Sturm. You go look now!

Both of them discussed the anti-Bush qualities of the music of Green Day, particularly the album American Idiot, for which they’ve been on tour recently. This was something I left out of my story on the Green Day concert I attended last month. I did consider it, but eventually I decided not to put it in. Because I’m a hypocrite. Why? I liked the concert so much, I didn’t want to say anything bad about them. And now I’m going to tell you that it doesn’t matter, even though last month I apparently thought it was bad enough that I shouldn’t mention it and discourage potential concert attendees.

It all started with the perfect TV dad, better than Stephen Keaton, better than Cliff Huxtable, way better than (but rhyming with) Ward Cleaver, that’s right, I’m talking about Jason Seaver. He took little Ben to a concert, and thanks to Maggie, he and Ben even had backstage passes. Naturally, while backstage, Ben saw something he shouldn’t involving said singer. Ben was crushed. Here was someone he idolized as only a child can, and he was bitterly disappointed. When he got home, he tore down the posters. Dad saved the day by pointing out that whatever flaws the singer had, it didn’t change the fact that the songs were good.

And it’s not just music. Go to any museum, and some of the art you see there was created by major assholes. Read any books? Surprise, surprise! Some authors are jerks. And now I suppose you’re saying that their indiscretions weren’t exactly public. But Jerry Lee Lewis nailed a young cousin of his. Hell, Poe did the same thing. Put that in your unseen censer and smoke it. And if I check my handy lit books, Poe’s still in there.

They don’t have to be famous either. Look around at work. Plenty of people there ain’t exactly saints. The guy at the next desk over might be having an affair. You might even be the one he’s having it with. So why slam Green Day? I guess because their offense is special.

You see, they don’t like President Bush. I’m sure that’s a shock to you. I mean, who’s ever heard of someone not liking a president? Except everybody, since every president has people who hate him.

On the other hand, Green Day is selling a product; most moonbats are just busy being batty. Ford doesn’t make ads showing how well their trucks run over puppies, but every one of their trucks can squish puppies good. We all know that, but people still buy Ford trucks. And Ford doesn’t go around bragging about it. Green Day may hate Bush, but they don’t keep it secret.

But it’s just a protest album, right? I’m too lazy to read all the lyrics, but I don’t think Bush or Iraq are mentioned by name anywhere on the album. The songs may have grim imagery, but you can listen and enjoy the music and never hear Bush’s name. And I thought half the music of the 60’s was protesting something or other. What were they protesting? Who gives a rat’s ass, as long as it sounds good? I sure don’t. In fact, in ten years, when Bush is a distant memory and Hillary is handing over the keys to the White House to Osama, I’ll bet this album sounds just as good.

Now you’re saying that’s fine as far as it goes, but what about the concert? Did Green Day pull a Dixie Chicks? There was a brief one. At one point lead singer Billy-something Armstrong, I think his name is, might have said something like “Bring me President Bush’s head on a platter!” Which brought out the usual screams from the ignorant children in the crowd. Of course, they would scream just as loud if he said the sun was hot. I was annoyed for about half a second, but my innoculations against Vedder-rhetoric that allow me to still like Pearl Jam were able to handle this as well. Just think how much culture you’d miss if you only got to see and hear and read the stuff created by people who agree with you on politics. Your list of acceptable art would be pretty short.

But who am I to tell Strum what he should or shouldn’t listen to? We’re both making choices according to our tastes, which happen to be different in this case. But maybe I could say this, if you see or hear or read something you like, go for it, and don’t let me or Steve tell you any different. Just remember to actually see or hear or read it before you make up your mind. Nobody knows what you like better than you.

And then you have the Ramones. While I definitely agree that their music is great, can we really say at this point that they have left Green Day so totally in the dust? Give Green Day fifteen more years and see how they stack up over a similar length-of-career effort. I’ll freely admit I’m not an expert on either of these bands, but do lyrics like “Beat on the brat with a baseball bat” or “Gabba gabba hey” sung over fast guitars really make the Ramones such a quantum leap above and beyond “She's a rebel vigilante missing link on the brink of destruction” or “Sometimes I give myself the creeps” sung over fast guitars? Ok, ok, maybe I’m pushing it a bit, but still, give them time. After all, none of them are dead yet.

Update: Oh yeah. Here’s what I wrote about Green Day the first time around.

Update II: Ha ha ha on me. Rereading that older Green Day post I see there was a Ramones mention in there. They held a place of honor. And I see I was grateful that even kids at a Green day show could sing along. So much for that last paragraph.

I guess you’ll need the background on HOE South here.

I guess I called it right, because sure enough, K-Shot made it up for the holidays. There was an immediate family dinner Christmas Eve and the larger family afternoon dinner on Christmas Day. Let’s start with Friday night. Those in attendance: Patron, Sweetie-pie, Special K, Code Name Eagle, Little D, Miss Nicky, Little C, K-Shot, Uncle Dem and Ramblin’ Man.

The dinner was a lot of fun. Uncle Dem is a very creative cook, with advanced cake making skills, while Ramblin’ Man is practically a gourmet. Which means that we had some weird stuff that normally I would not eat because I’m so finicky and kind of a baby about trying new foods. But I did because you know it would look bad not to. And it actually turned out to be pretty edible. I think my whole food problem came from a disturbing encounter eating sheep brains around age twelve. That was at a neighbor’s house who might have been Iranian. Or from Iraq. Can’t remember which. Hmmm. Sheep brains. I can’t believe I never made the connection before; it would explain a lot. So the food was good.

It wasn’t certain that Miss Nicky, Little C and K-Shot would make it, until they actually made it. They were expected, but not confirmed. Maybe my revenge would have to wait. Let me say I wasn’t nursing a grudge against K-Shot or anything. I just knew it would be fun to throw it back in her face in a friendly manner. Well I got my own little Christmas miracle when they did arrive.

You may have guessed from the wedding that Special K likes the liquor. See, I’m eleven years older than her, about fifteen years older than Code Name Eagle, and holy crap almost twenty-two years older than Little D. Which means I watched them grow up from an almost grown up perspective myself. So seeing someone I think of as a kid drinking all this wine is a little strange. It’s difficult to think of them as growing up and becoming adults.

Thing is, Sweetie-Pie also likes the wine, and there’s a bit of a running joke of who gets to keep the wine next to her place at the table. Miss Nicky and K-Shot were abstaining tonight.

So I’m doing my normal routine, which is to chip in with the clever comments while otherwise not really saying anything. Problem is, it’s only been in the last year or two that I have a peer group of non-parent level people available to really foster my contributions. I’ve got this whole innocent thing working. I’m the good one. The quiet one. Which of course enhances the shots I do get to take. Finally the moment came. Special K got a good shot in on me, and she’s sitting to my right. Then I’ve got K-Shot across from me to the left. So I note that I’m getting it from this side (Special K) tonight and K-Shot hammered me at the wedding, and I got to recount the whole story. In a cheerful way. And it was good for some laughs. Somehow, I neglected to mention that I regretted not going. Miss Nicky and Sweetie-Pie both thought it was smart not to go, because I would have ended up driving a carload of hammered chicks around all night, and maybe they would have bought me a Pepsi at some point.

Well Saturday, Miss Nicky and Little C and K-Shot were running late again, and Sweetie-Pie mentioned to me that they both thought I was nice and were glad I was there the night before and had fun. Which is nice, but I couldn’t figure out why she would need to tell me that. It was as if they thought I thought they didn’t like me or something. I don’t know why I would think that because I think they’re both great.

K-Shot is really big on the eye contact. Normally I’m looking all over the place; I just feel weird staring at someone as I talk, like I’m trying to mind-meld them or something. But I would find K-Shot looking at me once in a while, even if she wasn’t speaking to me. Weird.

Oh yeah. Special K and Sweetie-Pie were on me Saturday about my innocent silent act. They both let me know they were on to me. Sweetie-Pie was nice enough, mentioning the silent thing, but Special K nailed me, saying I was silent but deadly. I decided to ignore the negative connotation, with which I’m sure you’re all familiar.

And even though I’m like a total grump, I have to admit it is nice to see the family and spend time together. I hope you had the same opportunity with those who are special to you.

Me, I guess. Which is completely ridiculous. I mean, I feel like Mr. Rogers giving cool tips to the Rolling Stones. But what the hell.

Witty Sex Kitten recently wrote about her email correspondence with her former boss from a summer job she had. They write back and forth about career issues and to keep in touch as friends. She has gone out socially with boss and his wife a number of times, and she likes the wife too. WSK also invited boss and wife to come to Vegas for New Year’s. Now she’s wondering if he is hoping to hook up with her in Vegas. The post, which includes selected email excerpts, is here. You go look now!

So is her former boss hitting on her? Is he fantasizing about a bathroom quickie, or maybe more, in the adult theme park that is Las Vegas? Simple answer? Yes. Would he actually do it? That’s a tougher question. Let’s imagine what’s going through his mind. Guys, you already know this, so feel free to skip this part.

WSK mentions something about how she likes New Year’s in Vegas, maybe suggests boss and wifey would enjoy it too. Let’s say this happened, well, let’s split the difference and say the first mention happened in October sometime (it’s unclear who mentioned it first, or exactly when). If this is the first Christmas for boss and wifey since their secret elopement, this may have provided the spark for each of them going to their own families for the holidays. Or they already had that planned, in which case boss is thinking to himself that maybe wifey could stay with family through New Year’s.

Summary so far:
WSK: They’re a nice couple and fun to hang out with.
Boss: Is there really a chance I could be alone, without wifey, in Vegas, on New Year’s, with many hotties including WSK?

As an appropriate young lady, WSK is careful to mention wifey every time, just to keep things on the up and up (Option Two: she is WSK after all, so maybe this is why she keeps mentioning wifey). Naturally, boss would rather that WSK quit mentioning wifey, unless specifically in the context of Option Two. He’s too busy crafting schemes that end up with him walking into Hard Rock Vegas and saying, “Sorry, WSK, wifey just couldn’t make it.” If Option Two did somehow come up, boss will instantly go to plan B, which largely consists of crafting schemes that end with him reaching the holy grail of the threesome. (Oh, and for a fun movie that shows this sort of scheming going horribly wrong, at least for the guy, you should rent The Sex Monster.)

You can see how crafty guys can be because even WSK isn’t sure if he’s hitting on her. And he tosses out lines like “Are you married yet?” and “Will there be hotties there?” like a guy trout fishing tosses out flies, just hoping the bait gets taken. See, he can be daring and racy a little. What he can’t do is make a declarative first strike. If he initiates it, and the answer is no, then he’s just handed a loaded gun to WSK, and the bullets all say “Til death do us part, my ass!” He is the guilty party, and WSK can claim innocence by refusing. And, he’ll never know when WSK might drop the hammer. After all, she is friends with wifey as well. So he keeps tossing out the bait, “I have been to Vegas about 4 times in the last 6 months” (here, he cleverly nullifies the thrill of Vegas itself, allowing WSK to step in and give him an extra “reason” to go), and “Are all the hotels booked?” (here, he gives WSK the chance to offer to let him stay in her room, on the couch of course, but really, he’s thinking that once they’re both good and drunk, there’s a pretty good chance the couch isn’t where he’ll end up). All he needs is a green light from WSK and he’ll be on a plane. Provided he can successfully dump wifey on her family for a few extra days.

You see, WSK can make the first move with impunity. If boss says yes, they’re partners in crime, and if he rats her out, he’ll just be hanging himself. Even if he says no, WSK is still covered, because no man is going to go home to his wife and say “Hey honey this very hot and sexually active woman made a move on me today. She had a place and a time picked out and everything. I said no, of course.” You’ve heard of a can of worms? These would be the worms from Tremors. Not gonna happen. And you know why? Because wifey knows that at some point she’ll piss off boss, and instead of being grumpy for a couple of days and complaining to his friends, he’ll have a woman all lined up to “feel his pain” as it were. Any guy would just keep the event to himself. We aren’t that stupid.

The confusing part may be that they have had joking teasing conversations before. Key word: before. Before what? Before he thought there was a chance for an out of town trip without wifey. A smart guy doesn’t shit in his own yard, so to speak. The out of town alone fling has two things going for it. First, the chances of some random person you know spotting you is greatly reduced. Second, the fact that it is out of town alone makes it psychologically easier to have the fling. Why? Because the rarity of the circumstance mitigates against the fling becoming an affair back home. There’s that saying, “What goes TDY, stays TDY.” It’s sort of like kids having a party when mom and dad are out of town. If mom and dad had never left, the party wouldn’t have happened.

WSK replies to a comment with this: “If a friend of yours that was single and female invited you and your wife to come skiing, or to go Mardi Gras, by implication that is flirting? Ridiculous.” Women reading this may fully agree, and it may be true, for them. But they ain’t guys. And I think it’s been made pretty clear above that for guys, it’s all flirting. It’s just that sometimes it’s flirting that can’t be acted upon right now. We might call it flirting with potential.

So that’s what he’s thinking. What should WSK do about it? You tell me.

Alternate title: A Very Special Christmas Message.

No, not you guys! All those bastards at the mall. I swear, they are idiots. For getting in my way. I’m an idiot for not ordering everything online weeks ago. There’s plenty of stupidity to go around. I’m sure I told you I live in an area with a higher Stupidity Quotient than most of the country.

I spent more time driving into and out of the parking lot than I did inside the actual mall. And all I had was a list of people, without even possible gifts by their names. Why are all these other idiots taking so long?

I don’t go to many malls. I’m too busy perfecting the life of the hermit. But, most malls I’ve been in have a similar layout: one massive hallway, stores on the left and right sides and a whole bunch of stands selling this and that right down the middle of the mall. This conveniently divides traffic to left and right, and many people treat it like traffic lanes. Most people on the right are going one way, while the people on the left go the opposite way. On neither side do they move faster than arthritic ninety year olds with walkers. If they actually were ninety years old, I could live with that. But they aren’t. Forget walking and chewing bubble gum, these people have barely mastered walking.

I dealt with two different clerks in two different stores. Both said “Happy holidays” rather than "Merry Christmas." I am ambivalent. Maybe it’s just all the talk about booting the Salvation Army from the front of Target stores, or “Merry Christmas” being banished from the Macy’s lexicon, but the generic greeting really stood out. Kind of sucky, but I guess I can deal with it. After all, I picked a “Happy Holidays” card for Elder Prime, who is Jewish.

At one end of the mall, they staked out this kiddie play area, something to keep the kids happy while Mom goes and buys stuff. Get this, even the play area has a sponsor! This play area was provided by Food-4-Less. I can’t speak for all their stores, but the ones I’ve been in are kind of like the K-mart of grocery stores. You can say Martha Martha Martha! all you want, but let’s face it, the place has the rep of a third world country among that type of store. Same goes for Food-4-Less. The sick part? Some of the stuff looked fun.

So what made it all worthwhile? Sure, I could say it’s the happiness these gifts will bring, but let’s face facts. The thing that made it worth it is hot chicks. I swear, beautiful women of all shapes and sizes are everywhere, and I can’t just live by Witty Sex Kitten or Princess Wolfie or Miss Lola alone. Women are nature’s presents, and the gift keeps on giving all year round. Let’s have a little Christmas Prayer, shall we?

“Lord in heaven, thank you for the wonderful bounty you have bestowed upon us, in all your wisdom. Thank you also for the heavily lens corrected eyes that allow me to enjoy your creative majesty. Thank you for bosomy regions, hiney areas, long graceful necks, well-defined calves, and thank you for helping the uggos by giving them personalities that are so wonderful you can see past the surface to the beauty within. All hail your infinite wisdom as we celebrate this holy day. Amen.”

I stopped at the grocery store (not Food-4-Less) on the way home, and then I hit some more traffic, which was also annoying. This time there were flashing lights. Why must people stare at accidents and delay me? Do they know I’m behind them and it ticks me off? And it’s almost never worth it. I mean, for all these idiots to waste my time like this, I expect to see body parts scattered around. What do I usually get? Someone with a dinged fender.

Not this time though. I happened to pull even just as they were tipping a car back from upside down to right side up. No gore, but still scary. Whoever it was, hope they and their family will be ok.

This will be it for me until at least Saturday, maybe Sunday, so let’s sum up this Christmas post.
1.) Everyone I don’t know or who doesn’t read this blog is an idiot put on earth to test my patience.
2.) God’s greatest achievement? Women.
3.) People who get in accidents where I might be driving are jerks, upon whom I don’t necessarily wish death.

I am so going to hell. Then again, since God never came through on my own uggo-overcoming personality, what do I really owe him?

Now I’m really going to hell.

I was so sure there was something I was going to write about here. Dug around in my notes, then remembered it was an email. Allie Cat sent me an email. Of course the nice thing to do would be to write back. I sort of thought I would write back here. Which might not be so cool, but there is one little bit we can talk about.

Anyway, we sort of met because of this band Nothing Less. She doesn’t play in the band, but is part of the larger support group. I had seen them and wrote about it here. Their own site is on the blogroll, or you can just click here. You go look now!

So I wrote something on their site, she read it and found my site and that led me to her site. We visit each other’s blogs and leave comments occasionally. Now I’m no Mr. Prolific, but Allie Cat is perhaps more restricted in her free time. It had been a while and I was starting to wonder about her. I left a comment including the quote up there in the title. Kind of a “Where are you and what have you been up to?” sort of thought. I like the way it sounds. I conveniently ignored the rather more grim meaning in the movie. She read it differently and thought I was referring to her as the 37th person on my blogroll. Time out.

How cool is that anyway? Hello Dean Esmay, Number Four! And I imagined this widespread jockeying to gain higher positions on various blogrolls. Sort of like the Speed Dial episode on Seinfeld. Then I woke up and realized that would be a huge pain to keep track of. Time in.

After a quick check I realized she isn’t on my blogroll at all. Oops! But then I counted them, and it turns out she’ll be number . . . you guessed it, it’s practically a Christmas Miracle, number thirty-six. Damn! (You don’t know how badly I wanted to cheat and sneak one in to make it work.). So she’ll be over there shortly, or click here. You go look now!

She’s been busy with lots of band stuff I’ll tell you more about next time. Now I have to go write Allie Cat back.

Haven’t done one of these for a while, and today is a bonus edition.

First up is the MASH quiz. Take it and you can see which character you are. This one is actually pretty good, in the sense that I wasn’t sure who I would get. Many TV and movie quizzes just seem so obvious. I mean, if you take a Smokey and the Bandit quiz and your answer for the question about your favorite car is a black trans am, yeah you might end up as bandit. That’s an obvious question. And they annoy me, because I get caught up between answering honestly and making some effort to get the results (or character) I want. There were a few in there that seemed a little obvious (perhaps especially for Winchester), but I definitely wasn’t expecting my result:



I mean, Klinger????? Come on now! I’ve hardly ever worn a dress! I always identified with BJ Hunnicutt. Is it just me, or does everyone find that on most shows there are usually one or two characters that just seem to be “you” somehow? Let me cut through the middlemen and just run through a brief list for you. That 70’s Show: Eric Forman. Seinfeld: George. Star Trek: Spock. Growing Pains: Jason Seaver. Full House: Uncle Joey. Family Guy: Brian. South Park: Kyle. Hmmm. Can’t think of any more right now, but give me a show or movie and if I know it I’ll tell you which character I should be.

And as for the bonus, it’s not really a quiz; it’s to help you find your Santa’s Helper name. Sort of like the Pimp Name generator. You remember that one, don’t you? Where I gave you a chance to vote from a list of ten possible names? No wonder you don’t remember; I seem to recall that there was only one vote. But what the hell; here’s a link just in case the masses feel motivated for a recount. The winning name last time: Reverend Doctor Lord Rockefeller.

Anyway, your Santa’s Helper name generator is here. You go look now!

What did I get? Smiley Dancing-Noodles. Yeah great name. Fits right in with Witty Sex Kitten asking if the name Lord Floppington is some sort of sublimated impotence issue. Stupid karma. On the plus side, apparently it’s a happy sublimated impotence issue.

Update: Thanks and welcome to visitors from Witty Sex Kitten. Of course, as usual I notice these things too late, so I’ve probably missed you. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

Update II: I can’t neglect the Llamas, who tipped me to the MASH quiz. Santa’s Helper came in the mailbag.

Actual Update: Crap I just found out this was post 300. Kind of a dud.

Start with Part One. Then Part Two. And Part Three. Part Four please. Almost there, Part Five. Bless your endurance. Last time: Part Six.

So we’re sitting there, in Miss Judi’s living room, Princess Wolfie, Drinking Buddy, myself. Now I know he heard this, but I guess he pretended not to. He said nothing. And the spirit of Damone animated Princess Wolfie, and she says I should start dating either Miss Tori or Miss Lola! Just tosses it out there like she’s asking about the weather! Look, maybe I’m a prude or whatever, but that’s a discussion I would prefer to have in private, or at least with less of an audience. However the tension was relieved when she said she thought Miss Tori was perhaps the better match, while allowing that Miss Lola and I both have an anal streak. Yeah the psychological kind, she meant. Even Drinking Buddy couldn’t ignore this, and hiccupped a chuckle. And then Princess Wolfie got distracted by something else.

Later on, talk turned to Miss Lola again, this was after she left. And so I heard about how Miss Lola has a crush on this guy who she used to be a roommate with. We’ll call him Wesley. Apparently, Wesley has two gals who like him, but he hasn’t committed to either one. I should add that he hasn’t dated Miss Lola, or the other gal, Beverly. One of them occasionally cooks for him, and the other occasionally does his laundry. After I got over wondering how either of these two could have fallen into this routine, I had to admit that Wesley has a pretty sweet deal going.

So where do I go with all that? Who knows? I’ll keep you updated as events warrant.

You already know about the Empress Kitty. She’s one of the secret underground kitty alliance members (how secret? If it‘s on this blog, it‘s very secret! Even she doesn't know she's in it!). Yeah, I know, it needs a cool name. But today I’m here to tell you about a new kitty in the Clowder? Clutter? Pounce? One of those. They’re all names for groups of cats. You can see other animal group names here. You go look now!

How many kitties will be in our little pounce? I’m guessing nine. Nine lives and all that. Next question is whether I’m one of the nine as well. Or am I the one cat to rule them all and in the darkness bind them? I kinda like that better. Of course you know that unlike Sauron, I will be a benevolent dictator. Hey I just realized that the initials of benevolent dictator fit really well with the whole binding in the darkness thing. Just another example of following my bliss, as JC would say. No not him. The other one. Weren’t there nine muses too? How sweet is that?

Our new kitty is the Witty Sex Kitten, and she’ll be the muse of pleasure, so to speak, when I’m BD. And she has earned that posting through her dedicated community service efforts, particularly for our men in uniform. And she asks the time honored question, “Why is it ok for guys to be studs, but not ok for gals to be sluts?”

Even the question itself is loaded against the gals. I mean what do you call a girl with a certain zest for living? Slut? Tramp? Woman of flexible virtue? What a total rip-off! Stud just sounds cool. A guy with lots of action is a stud. Other guys congratulate him. For gals, not so much. Some tender vittles:

. . . once I told my friends about the 3somes-well the shit hit the fucking fan. My friends were rather, well, shocked, and then sort of judgmental. I threw a total feminist shit fit and explained to them that it was bullshit that guys can have 3some's with 2 girls and it's hot and it's sexy and they are players but I have a 3some with 2 guy's and I get called finger cuffs (if you don't know what that means you need to rent Chasing Amy)!

She’s right. I agree wholeheartedly. You definitely need to rent Chasing Amy.

And she’s right about the other stuff too. Bonus vittles:

. . . why is it so shocking and wrong if a girl wants to live out a fantasy and hook up with 2 guys but a guy does it and he regales his friends with stories of it and they all slap each other high 5's and buy the dude a beer.

Of course, it all boils down to the relative ease of obtaining sexual favors. Guys always want sex with girls. Always think about it. Kind of like when Jerry used a head of lettuce to model George’s thought processes. One little leaf controlled everything but sex. Which was the focus of the rest of the head of lettuce. Because for guys, the acquisition of sexual favors is a quest. This is why when George knew he had guaranteed sex waiting for him after several weeks of celibacy, he became post-op Charly Gordon over that same time period.

For gals, sex is always available whenever the mood strikes them. So they never have to think about it. Jerry’s metaphor for Elaine was garbage collection. She held out on her med-school boyfriend so he could get smart enough (a la George) to pass his exams. When sex wasn’t available, she got dumber and dumber as she thought more and more about it. Sort of like the trash piling up during a garbage strike. Don't take my word for it. The episode script (with a great Kramer subplot) can be found here. You go look now!

So when it comes to tales of sexual exploits, you’ll find among guys a sort of in the trenches together attitude. Sort of like Dennis Finch’s quest for threesome. I mean, if you saw it, it was like a modern take on the Twelve Labors of Hercules. And for every impossible task, there was a man who sacrificed himself in some way to help Finch toward his goal. We appreciate the holy grail of the threesome. We don’t get jealous or give guys shit over exploits. We celebrate the man who made it to the mountain top.

When someone mentions the green-eyed monster, we know they’re talking about jealousy, not a gangrenous schlong. And when you hear green-eyed monster, don’t you also first think of a woman? When we think of people being jealous, we often think of women, not men. Don’t get me wrong, a guy can be jealous of another guy with a specific woman; we just don’t get jealous over exploits. We’re team players that way. Women? Well, if there’s seven gals and one guy left on Survivor, and the guy makes it to the end and wins, that’s no advertisement for teamwork.

So why can’t women be supportive of studettes who enjoy themselves? Perhaps if we looked in their secret hearts, we’d find that it’s jealousy, yes, but also insecurity. If a woman sleeps with a lot of guys, maybe other women see her as someone who is hoarding guys, or keeping them unavailable. With a lot of garbage men on one block, the trash might get neglected elsewhere. I think some women might see a studette as taking away a potential guy that they might have wanted. These women might be too hung up on the whole soulmate thing. And so they’re jealous. Or they’re insecure because they don’t have threesomes. They may be afraid they don’t measure up as a woman somehow. Maybe they even wish they had the nerve to try it themselves. Being shocked and judgmental and hitting fans with shit may be their way of eliminating this threat before it spreads. Or something like that.

Fortunately, Witty Sex Kitten’s friends got over it and love her just the way she is. You can read the whole thing here. You go look now!

Oops! Loose Threads: Epilogue got bumped to tomorrow.

Actual Update: Dang! Why didn't anyone tell me I forgot to put in that last link? What, do I have to write and proofread this thing?

Start with Part One. Then Part Two. And Part Three. Part Four please. Almost there, Part Five. Or scroll down til you hit Part One and just read up from there.

One of the hallmarks of Team Magnum is that we never synchronize our watches. Outside of work, I don’t think we’ve ever managed to get all of us together within even a half hour of our arranged meeting times. I was first to arrive, and final arrivals were a couple of hours later. Everyone had a food or drink assignment. For our purposes, food = appetizers and drink = beer. Miss Judi provided wine. I brought these little cocktail weenies. They're good. Ask me later.

Miss Judi was frantic in her last minute cleaning, which wasn’t necessary. Her place is great. But she did need some help with some light strings she had put up around the rooms. I tried to intimidate them back up on the wall, but eventually had to settle for reattaching the tape more securely by hand. Oh well.

Approximate orders of arrival after me: Mr Texas (this big tray of shrimp; I was his Secret Santa; found out later, he was mine!), Dr. Cool (with beer!). We drank several beers and Miss Judi got started on a bottle of wine. Neighbor Lady actually showed up (with a slab of cream cheese with salsa, and tortilla chips). A minor miracle. But she had to leave early. Miss Lola arrived (yes, that Miss Lola, with lumpia). Then Drinking Buddy and Princess Wolfie arrived (he drove; they brought egg rolls and more beer!). I think Copper (not officially Team Magnum) was last with something that I just can’t remember right now. I can kind of see it, an image of it, but I can’t call it all the way up.

Usual chit chat plus some good gossip. Copper was responding to an alarm at the office. He goes in and starts a walk through to check stuff out. Well he hears something and goes to this door. It’s the door to our former Big Cheese’s office (this took place a few years ago, before our current Big Cheese, who is pretty cool). Former Big Cheese shall be known as Dr. Cheese. One of his second in commands was a nice woman, Admiral Andie, who also is no longer at our office. You can see what’s coming, right? Copper caught them. You don’t really need all the details of sound and positioning, do you?

And so we had the gift exchange. After a minute or two of debate in my head, I finally decide to start with Miss Judi. She got a DVD player, one of those Wal-Mart super deals, or Target, or whoever. We agreed on $10, but I think it was ok to fudge it a little if a perfect gift came up. This was from Dr. Cool. He just learned last week that there is a little Kid Cool on the way. And he got a little kind of smooshy little baby football with a Bears logo. Plus, it plays sounds. You gotta love the noisy toys. I think that was from Miss Lola. Who got a couple of stuffed cartoon animals of some sort. I may have heard a Lilo in there, somewhere. She liked them. Crap I can’t remember for sure who is next. Ok Princess Wolfie (seriously, it’s over) got her gift, from Miss Tori, with an assist from me. Time out.

Ok you already know that I had been thinking about Secret Santa for a while before I found a good time to bring it up. Naturally, with all that time on my hands I was able to think about gifts. Actually, I only thought of gifts for two people. Two out of eight? Yeah, well you already know I’m no good at gifts. But for Drinking Buddy, it would have been a cool shirt from Frank J like this one here or this one here. And for Princess Wolfie, who has a slight fetish for sanitized hands, several small bottles of some brand or other of hand sanitizers plus a couple of big refill bottles. Time in.

So I suggested this to Miss Tori, and she followed my advice. My average is improving. It was a super hit. PW laughed her ass off. Drinking Buddy got this cool beer neon sign. And Mr. Texas and I somehow chose each other. Since PW had mentioned going to TJ MCBoobies , our local topless dancing emporium, for some future Team Magnum Cocktail Hour, I thought I would get him a pass to the club and some fresh dollar bills. I chickened out. Well, not exactly. Suggesting TJ McBoobies is good for a laugh after a few beers, but would we really set a date while we were sober? I would have felt stupid if we ended up deciding not to go. So I got him the South Park: Passion of the Jew dvd. Which was a big hit. And he got me . . . Time out.

Ok you must know that I haven’t exactly advertised this blog among my peers. Or among anyone. That’s why I made up all these wacky nicknames, to protect the innocent. It gives me some kind of deniability. Of course, the downside is that once or twice I’ve almost called the real people by the nicknames they have on here. I had not considered this possibility. I did say almost; I haven’t slipped so far. All of which goes to say that none of them associate me with being online, reading blogs, etc. Except that I’m kind of geeky. The good kind, I think. Now add this: The Onion is a funny read. I was not familiar with the print version. I had only heard about or read it online. So what should Mr. Texas get me but . . . Time in.

Our Dumb Century: 100 Years of Headlines from America’s Finest News Source. Presented by The Onion! Ok it may sound stupid to you, but for me, there was a strange feeling of cosmic symmetry to it.

Neighbor Lady left really early, and Miss Lola left. The rest of us are scattered about. I’m in the living room in a chair. Princess Wolfie is on the couch with Drinking Buddy and Mr. Texas. Miss Judi is in a beanbag chair. Copper and Dr. Cool are sort of in the dining room area. But whatever, people are moving about occasionally. And Princess Wolfie started channeling Damone again. But I’m tired now, so you’ll have to read about that in the Loose Threads: Epilogue tomorrow.

Start with Part One. Then Part Two. And Part Three. Part Four please.

After Team Magnum Cocktail Hour, I headed straight for the dinner. I already told you who was there. Not much of note happened. Well, there was one thing.

I told you I had overnight supervision right after the dinner. This is the project I co-manage with Miss Tori. Last time, she took the first half, and I took the second half, 1-7am. So she said it would only be fair to reverse it this time. I babbled something about how I was fine either way and sort of left the ball in her court. Looked like the reversal would stand.

Which is all well and good, but it didn’t seem very gentlemanly.

So this was the subject of the one thing worth talking about at the dinner. Miss Yale and the Little General let me know in no uncertain terms what my obligations were. Did I mention that this project is in a semi not so nice area? That the parking lot is not necessarily well lit? I was to have Moss Tori call me when she was about to arrive so I could meet her in the parking lot and walk her in. They also let me know it would be very concerning if Miss Tori was left there alone. I explained to them that the manager of the other division involved would be arriving at roughly the same time as Miss Tori. He would be taking over for Miss Straight, who would be there the same time as me. (How was I at the dinner listening to this when Miss Straight left early to get to the project? Yeah, I had a buddy cover for me.)

You can guess what happened next. Miss Straight had to leave at 1am. So she’s gone. And Miss Tori has arrived. But Miss Straight’s replacement never showed. Naturally, Miss Tori said I didn’t have to stay. That’s where I drew the line. She could take the late shift, but there was no way I would leaver her alone there. I’ll be honest. If something was going to happen, it would have to be so major that there would be nothing I could do about it. Miss Tori and I would be screwed. Just forgive my discretion and take my word for it. Yet just the fact that I’m there mitigates against it. Look I’m a total goof, but I’ve also been told I can be intimidating sometimes. Of course, I stayed. See how noble I am?

I learned something today. I learned the value of slumber parties. See, Miss Tori and I don’t really have to do anything. We’re just there in case something gets “screwed up royal” which I think was Mayor Quimby, but you might correct me on that. Anyway, we ended up chitter-chattering all night. Normally I’m no good at this, but we’ve known each other a while and we sort of have, how can I put this? Compatible sensibilities, how’s that?. And I got some of the most mind blowing gossip. I mean I usually just get a little tidbit here or there, and this was like a flood. I had to vault it. There’s no question about that. Still, it can’t help but subconsciously affect me, so maybe you’ll catch some ripples

Oh and the name drawing. I got Mr. Texas. Miss Tori got Princess Wolfie. I don’t know who else got who else. But that’s why they call it Secret Santa. Which will be tomorrow, as it turns out.

Loose Threads concludes in Team Magnum Christmas Party, maybe tomorrow night after the party, or else Friday for sure.

. . . is a day when we take time to take stock of our nation, where we are, and where we’re going. You may recall that on past Wednesdays, we have pointed to ways to help President Bush and various candidates for senate. Now that the election is over, I figured Wictory Wednesday would become a thing of the past, an honored and fondly remembered part of a successful 2004 election cycle.

Then it occurred to me that all those people didn't turn out to vote just because of the last six months or so of campaigning. Republicans and Democrats both made a major effort ever since 2000 to register and motivate voters, building grassroots networks across the country. So rather than give up the ghost, Wictory Wednesday has been reborn, or born again, if you'll pardon the pun.

Today we're helping the Washington state GOP by donating here. You go look now!

Or you could volunteer as a recount observer here. You go look now!

Polipundit, who organizes the festivities each week, mobilizes the troops here. You go look now!

Start with Part One. Then Part Two. And Part Three.

That’s right. Princess Wolfie decided a few cocktails were in order before dinner. So we met at the usual place, Princess Wolfie, Miss Judi and I. Miss Lola arrived later. It was one of the better cocktail hours.

First, Miss Judi and I got to trade some inappropriate jokes. And after a few of these, I lean over and ask if she wants to hear a dirty joke. Well what to my wondrous ears should appear? (If you can stand the cheesy rip off) Princess Wolfie, chipping in with “A white horse jumped in the mud.” Son of a bitch stole my line. (If you can stand another) I wouldn’t have believed it. Sure, it’s not exactly finishing each other’s sentences or anything, but still. This is the kind of thing I love about her. I laughed my hiney region off between false blusters of outrage that she ripped me off.

Second, Miss Judi must have skipped lunch, because she was a little tipsy for a while, a little funny, and a little vicious. Sort of like me when I become benevolent dictator. I’ve had an idea for a month or so that while I thought it would be fun, for some reason I felt stupid bringing it up. Remind me to psychoanalyze myself about that later. But I’ll take a chance here and there. So I lean over to Tipsy Miss Judi and whisper “Two words: Secret Santa.”

This definitely suited her fancy. She squealed with delight and I made a mental note to congratulate myself for some subtle art or other. She offered to host a Team Magnum Christmas Party (which you have to admit is a whole lot easier to type than Team Magnum Gift Exchange, Appetizers and Cocktail Hour) at her house later this week. Princess Wolfie is leaving town Friday, which makes Thursday the best we can do.

Third, at some point, somehow, Princess Wolfie had the brilliant idea of having a future Team Magnum Cocktail Hour at our local drinks, loud music, and topless dancers emporium. We shall call it TJ McBoobies. Thank goodness when I go to a strip club, I go to one three towns over. There would be no end to the crap I would take if we walked in there and various girls greeted me by name. Or by my undercover strip club patron name, Studs Hardbody. I can see it now.

Suitably Slutty Girl One: Ooooh! Studs, looking good!
Suitably Slutty Girl Two: Welcome back, Studs! We missed you!
SSG One and Two: Typical giggles and purrs.
SSG One and Two sort of rub up against me in that way that they do.
Me: Who are these girls? What are they talking about? (In an overly loud, ridiculous sort of tone. You know, like Seinfeld. Then again, this is more like something that would happen to Larry on Three‘s Company. Unfortunately, I look more like Larry than Jerry.)
Wait a half hour for Team Magnum to stop laughing.

Aaaaannnd . . . End of scene.

I would have written more of that wacky dream sequence, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the fact that by this point in the story I would have keeled over from three heart attacks and seven strokes. Interesting footnote to the story: Two years later, the AMA recommended that the three heart attack/seven stroke event be recognized as the symptoms necessary for a “Died of Embarrassment” entry on the death certificate.

Since I’m all clear in that regard, now I can look forward to seeing if anyone else is recognized there! How self-righteous we become. Ohhhhhh! And Miss Judi says the daughter of one of the secretaries at our office works at TJ McBoobies! I’ve met the son, but I haven’t met the daughter, so I wouldn’t recognize her anyway.

Next Up: The Drawing Of The Names.

Start with Part One. Then Part Two.

Miss Straight has a restaurant she likes, and several people from our division went there for dinner several months ago, back in May, maybe. Well she tried to make special arrangements for our division to have a holiday get-together there. She needed a minimum of twenty people to reserve the place for just us. So Miss Straight comes around our division lunchroom asking people if they want to go and even encouraging people to bring someone. And I look to my right, and there’s Damone being channeled by Princess Wolfie. And she says to me that I ought to take Miss Lola to this thing.

Just a smidge of background. Princess Wolfie is the “someone” who told me that “so-and-so” liked me. And Miss Lola was the so-and-so to whom Princess Wolfie was referring. You can read all about it and my lame reaction here.

So Princess Wolfie, who I had a crush on, is like trying to set me up with Miss Lola. I mean, wasn’t this a movie in the 80’s starring some or all of the Brat Pack? According to Princess Wolfie, Miss Lola talks about what a nice guy I am, you know, that sort of stuff, whatever. Clearly, she’s on drugs. But here’s PW telling me to take her to this thing. Like, as in a date or something? Well even with Damone Wolfie’s help, I wasn’t quite going that far. I mentioned it to her. I did not offer to take her. But she was busy anyway.

We never did get twenty people, so we switched to the backup restaurant, a well-regarded local eatery. Here’s the group: Mr. and Mrs. Singer, Miss JJ and Mr. JJ, Miss Straight and her friend Mr. Edwards, the Little General, Miss Yale, Miss Dokey, Miss Webb, Miss Honey, Princess Wolfie, and Miss Tori. Who punked out? Miss Tori and Princess Wolfie. But before Miss Tori punked out on dinner, she punked out on a pre-dinner Team Magnum Cocktail Hour at our local hangout. Princess Wolfie made it to that, at least.

Tomorrow: Team Magnum Cocktail Hour (Loose Threads Part Four).

Read part one of Loose Threads here.

Miss Sunny is someone I’ve lusted after, but apparently I’m not the only one. Of course, I’ve never acted on it. I first met her at the company retreat. She possessed all the physical attributes most men idealize, as well as the mental attributes often associated with blondes. You’ll see why later. Trust me. And as for her personality, who cares? She’s hot. Just kidding. She’s very sweet. That’s why her name is Miss Sunny. I told you before that I need a Damone, and it’s because Miss Sunny would have to blast me with lighthouse powered high beams for me to get the hint. It’s all academic now, since she turned her high beams on Mr. Truck. What I didn’t know at the time was that there is a Mr. Sunny. And a Mrs. Truck, who has a little pickup of her own due in a few months.

This resulted in some grim moments when Mr. Sunny escorted Miss Sunny to the office to pack up her stuff. She no longer works for the company. She wasn’t fired for having an affair, at least not by the company. I’m not sure if it was her or Mr. Sunny who made the decision. Was it worth it? I don’t know, but she did say Mr. Truck gave her the best ride she’d ever had, if you’ll forgive my extension of the metaphor. And from various tidbits here and there, I have the impression that Miss Sunny’s marriage was such that something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.

As for Mr. Truck, he’s still at the office, although he’s not in Team Magnum anymore. For one thing, the Team Magnum babes (remind me about them later) don’t have such a high opinion of him now. For another, Mrs. Truck is keeping him on a pretty short leash. He may be in the doghouse, but at least he’s still on the property.

The stupidest part of the whole thing? Miss Sunny told Drinking Buddy about it, which guaranteed that even I would hear about it eventually. Why in the hell would she tell anyone? Doesn’t anyone read Ben (“Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead”) Franklin anymore? Even without her blabbermouth, NVC would have given it away eventually. Miss Sunny and Mr. Truck only made it to one Team Magnum Cocktail Hour. It was also the only one Neighbor Lady has attended so far. After about half an hour, she leaned over to Princess Wolfie and asked her if Miss Sunny and Mr. Truck were doing it! You already know I’m clueless about these sorts of things. Fortunately, Neighbor Lady and Princess Wolfie gather up the scuttlebutt and it filters back to me eventually.

Sorry for the delay. Been up for maybe 36 hours thanks to supervising some overnight operations (during which I had the time to write this) that Princess Wolfie talked me into. But I did get a nice four hour nap, so here we go. I’ll add some stuff if it seems appropriate, but I’ll try to be careful with my time references. A lot of stuff came out of the last day and a half. It’ll fill the next few posts, including another Team Magnum Cocktail Hour.

I may have mentioned that after a brief viewing of the rock at the company retreat, any doubts about the reality of a Mr. Wolfie were sufficiently allayed. But here’s the thing. Princess Wolfie isn’t wearing the rock anymore, and it seems unlikely that the stone is getting loose again already. I mean, Mrs. Floppington’s ring only needed to be checked once every six months to keep the warranty (or whatever you call it for rings) active. In addition, Princess Wolfie has a place in town. She is here all week now, and at least some weekends. What’s up with that? Of course, I’m not going to ask her. Do I really want to nullify my safe guy status? And if I’m trying to keep my huge crush on her (which I’m completely over, of course) a secret, asking her all these personal questions that pretty much amount to “So are you single and available, or what?” ain’t likely to help.

Then again, I’m pretty sure I did say a while back that I would never have an affair with her, even if she came right out and asked me to. I’m sure I tried to make myself sound noble. Then I admitted that if she got a divorce, I would definitely go out with her. That brief summary is just in case I can’t find the link when I finish writing this. Oh I rock. Here's the link. So I must have thought that the crush only had to be secret when it couldn’t be acted upon. Which makes sense. I mean, if someone is available for dating, and you like that someone, there’s not necessarily anything wrong with telling that someone, asking her out or whatever. Yeah. I’ll probably chicken out if she ever does become available some time in the future. But I’ll cover myself with some noble principle about romance in the workplace, conveniently ignoring the fact that she’s leaving for the new office in another six or seven months. And then I’ll remind you that women tell each other everything, and all this personal stuff would float back to her girlfriends that I would still be working with. I mean, what the hell? I’d be working with a bunch of broads who’ve been entertained with stories of my latest fart or my adventures in nose picking. And I don’t even want to think about the sex stories they’d hear. Princess Wolfie would tell them bad things that would make them laugh. Of course we know she can’t tell them the truth, because then they’d be after me all the time, and she wouldn’t be in the office anymore to keep an eye on them. I’ll go on to say other things that make me sound good, even though we’ll know they’re all laughably inaccurate. We’ll know it’s just a massive effort to rationalize me chickening out. When that day comes, feel free to point back here and call me on it. I’ll probably regret this. But I’m a little punchy from lack of sleep. And did I mention I had several beers in the middle of it all? Oh wait. That comes later.

Back on topic, Princess Wolfie already has enough guys sniffing around her. Not that she necessarily minds, as the following story demonstrates.

Miss Tori and Neighbor Lady had a little chit chat break this morning (Friday morning). PW was among the topics of discussion. They both confirmed that all the guys love PW. So it’s not just me. And like any good puppet master, she enjoys pulling the strings. Need a new presentation easel? A little whisper to someone from maintenance, and she’s got a new one traded from someone else’s office. She got a nice new desk in a similar fashion. It’s not just maintenance. Security loves her. And the male clients, and a few of the females, are simply ga-ga over her.

Let me tell you now, and without bias, that all these other people simply think she’s hot. Which she is. But for me it was more than that. In addition to the lust, there was also the non-lust affection, which, by the way, I’ve told you several times that I’m over now.

The sick thing is, Princess Wolfie wouldn’t get away with it if guys didn’t let her. Guys are just stupid when it comes to hot chicks. For all I know, she leaves the rock at home so as not to discourage any of her peons. We guys know that doesn’t matter, don’t we? Just ask Mr. Truck and Miss Sunny. Their story is up next.

…which is a day when we take time to take stock of our nation, where we are, and where we’re going. You may recall that on past Wednesdays, we have pointed to ways to help President Bush and various candidates for senate. Now that the election is over, I figured Wictory Wednesday would become a thing of the past, an honored and fondly remembered part of a successful 2004 election cycle.

Then it occurred to me that all those people didn't turn out to vote just because of the last six months or so of campaigning. Republicans and Democrats both made a major effort ever since 2000 to register and motivate voters, building grassroots networks across the country. So rather than give up the ghost, Wictory Wednesday has been reborn, or born again, if you'll pardon the pun.

Today we're helping the Washington state GOP by volunteering at 425-646-7202. If you're near there, you go call now!

A while back, I wrote about girls who have ponytails coming out of the back of baseball caps. You should go read that first. It’s here. Back? Ok good.

Today I had a little moment and was sort of inspired to write this poem. Feel free not to read it, or consider yourself warned and follow this link here.

No wine tasting this week, but cocktail hour was right on schedule. Well, except that Mr. Texas exercised his command power and moved up the time an hour and a half. And my crappy phone defenses worked to perfection. Nobody could reach me. But as it turned out, only half the group got the revised time, so it all worked out.

It appears I’m the last holdout on the team photo, so I’ve got to make up my mind. I’ll post some of my options next time.

Princess Wolfie might need a name change to Princess Whiny. I’ve got strep throat. I’m tired. Christmas is coming and I’m broke. But she showed up. Miss Judi, Miss Lola, Sista Girl, and Dr. Cool also made it. It was the first time for him, so that was good.

Maybe you notice this with your work colleagues. Half the time we sit around complaining about our clients, and the other half we sit around complaining about our bosses.

Which was part of the reason PW has abandoned ship and is going to the new office. Subtle Boss, and especially Tough Boss, who are the immediate supervisors in our division, sometimes might be considered a little nosy. Or a little gossipy. After the retreat, there was some suggestion that PW and Drinking Buddy had hooked up. I knew this wasn’t true because Drinking Buddy and I shared a room, and either he or PW were in my sight pretty much the whole time. However, Tough Boss felt the need to discuss this situation with PW, and this was upsetting to her. I mean PW is married, after all, and a good person, and having someone come up and asking you about an affair and advising how to deal with it, it was offensive. Why not just call her a slut. This was the sort of thing that made PW keep her application for the new office a secret.

She told a few people, mainly Team Magnum people. So when Subtle Boss brought it up to her last week, PW sort of raked me over the coals about whether or not I had told Subtle Boss about her interview. I hadn’t, but SB and I have a daily status briefing first thing every morning. Nothing official, but we both get there 30-45 minutes early each day, just to be prepared and get a jump on things. So it was a reasonable question.

Fast forward to Princess Wolfie’s acceptance to work at the new office. Tough Boss has an office right next to Miss Tori. Tuesday, Tough Boss asks Miss Tori if PW had heard anything about her possible new job at the new office. Which Miss Tori promptly asked PW about, because she didn’t even know PW had applied.

I heard about it at a lunch meeting Tuesday with Miss Tori. Which made me laugh. Because unlike last week, on Tuesday morning Subtle Boss did ask me about Princess Wolfie. And she wanted to know the same thing, had PW said anything about being accepted at the new office? At this point I didn’t know that the answer was yes. So I said I hadn’t heard.

Miss Tori and I exchanged our stories at lunch. Two examples of how these two like to keep an eye on things. And this was why PW didn’t tell them she had applied or been interviewed. She didn’t want to spend six weeks barraged with friendly, yet somehow negatively critical advice about what she should do, or badgering her to stay. I never get this stuff from them, and I do not understand why. Is it because I’m a guy? Am I some imposing figure? I mean I am such a wuss I could be totally under their thumb. But I never get anything from them. I don’t know why I would be particularly well-regarded or somehow exempt, but there it is. Or maybe I’m just so dense that I’m blind to the machinations going on around me.

Several beers later, gradual arrivals became gradual departures, and a good time was had by all.

(Alternate title: Princess Wolfie Update)

A couple of things. I’m an employee management facilitator in one of my roles in the company. Princess Wolfie has had some problems with one of her client bases, and she had been summoned to Miss Salsa’s office to discuss the situation. Thing is, in a Three’s Company bit of miscommunication, Miss Lola had told Princess Wolfie earlier that morning that Miss Salsa was ticked off. This got PW concerned about getting a reprimand at this meeting, so she asked me to tag along. As it turned out, there was no reprimand for PW, but the relevant vendor was set straight on a few things. So I rode to the non-rescue as it turns out. But the ride was a nice distraction. Any excuse to hang out with PW. See how obvious it is that I’m over her? Next thing.

Team Magnum team photo. We’re still on the action hero thing with photoshop. Maybe I’ll try to get photos of some of my choices and put them here. Or if I get too lazy, I’ll just give you the list later. Next thing.

Ok I briefly checked over past posts and realized there was no background to send you to this time, so here we go. Our particular branch office has a sort of bad reputation. We are the bastard child of the company, might be a better way to put it. We have a new office opening next year across town. We had the option of interviewing for a position there. Problem is, if they pick you, you have to go. I didn’t want to get selected and find out that everyone else was staying at the old office.

Plus, with some new management, our office is really turning around, especially in the morale department. And look, you get comfortable. Who knows what the culture would be like at the new office? Going there and leaving all the cool people behind would suck. It would suck even worse if the new office, new management, new people sucked. Plus, it’s a longer commute, with much crappier traffic.

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this. Princess Wolfie had her interview a few weeks ago. Today she found out that she had been accepted. She has about six more months before the new office is built and she’ll be out of here. Now that really sucks!

Team Magnum Cocktail Hour Friday night. It wouldn’t be too much to offer a toast to the Princess, would it?

Possible Team Magnum Wine Tasting Thursday night. I’ll let you know.

Actual Update: I must have told you before that PW thought this guy at the last wine tasting was hitting on her. I have been rubbing it in a little, but in discussing this upcoming event, PW said again that I blew it by not getting her back. Neighbor Lady promptly stepped in to say that she’ll provide the necessary cover. I registered no objection.

…is a day when we take time to take stock of our nation, where we are, and where we’re going. You may recall that on past Wednesdays, we have pointed to ways to help President Bush and various candidates for senate. Now that the election is over, I figured Wictory Wednesday would become a thing of the past, an honored and fondly remembered part of a successful 2004 election cycle.

Then it occurred to me that all those people didn't turn out to vote just because of the last six months or so of campaigning. Republicans and Democrats both made a major effort ever since 2000 to register and motivate voters, building grassroots networks across the country. So rather than give up the ghost, Wictory Wednesday has been reborn, or born again, if you'll pardon the pun.

Today we're helping the Louisiana candidate for Congress Charles
Boustany by donating here. You go look now!