(A)Dressing Down

Christmas - A Summation:

One of the best gifts given or received this past Christmas was a book of puzzles by Frank Lewis (Cryptic Crosswords)

Every clue is a brain-teaser, each puzzle has almost sixty clues, based on wordplay, and the book has fifty puzzles, and, the best part, MOST OF THEM ARE PUNS.

Example: A count of the anit-Sandinista forces jokes, or, how Bach composed? (14)

A fourteen letter word that makes sense. Go. Let me know when you need a hint.

Other fun gifts:

A sampler pack of Tabasco brand pepper sauce. (Original, Mild, Habanero, Sweet & Spicy, Garlic, and Chipotle); Chicken Pox (among other giant microbes); and this kick-ass hooded sweatshirt.


New Year's Eve - A Summation:
Nashville is not all it's cracked up to be; mafia (a game designed to mimic criminal behavior and mob mentality) was ruined, ironically, by rule breaking; there was some delicious food; a painted whore of mythical proportions; and the largest collection of pretentious college kids I've seen since my time at BU.

Also margaritas and chauffeuring and loud, drunken, underage, hotel neighbor arguments at 3AM.

Suck it, 2009.

Resolutions - A Summation:

• Party more often in places that start with a "B" (like Boston, Birmingham, and Baltimore)


• Plan for retirement by purchasing stock in companies that share my economic, environmental, or philosophical precepts (Ted's Montanna Grille, Chipotle, Tesla Motors, Virtucon)


• Take my blogging inspiration from Sister Act II.


• Marry (in 2009)


• Keep the faith


• twitter more, and better


• add more T9 typing mishaps to my slang lexicon ("holy bras!" "zur" etc. (post coming soon))


• reduce my dependence on int-er-net memes.


• and support more things I enjoy online, like pandora, and wikipedia.org

-t

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All Wrapped Up

Promote holiday cheer and good gift wrapping techniques!




Those of you who, like me (and Biggie), are excellent wrappers won't need to follow this link - but for those of you who are terrible wrappers (Stephen) it will be well worth the look.

Though, for those of you who are very good wrappers, but only want to seem terrible (Van Winkle) you can go here to find gifts wrapped poorly by design.


Happy holidays!
-t

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A Really Long December

The kid behind me WILL NOT STOP with the radio playing. GET SOME HEADPHONES.

I have used up all my passive-aggressive plays, and I am sick of using my own headphones solely to block the early ninties soft rock streaming from his computer. Counting Crows haven't been relevant in a decade, and you really have to STOP tapping your desk in time with Ants Marching! Seriously. Pandora is great for listening to music you like. You know what else is great? KEEPING IT TO YOURSELF.


He did just get up from his desk without locking his computer...I'm going to disable his sound card.

-t

PS - welcome back to "I hate work" at blogspot.com

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All-Points-Bulletin

I'm too tired to do most all of the work on my desk right now. And there is certainly a lot of it.

Dozens of problems, and hundreds of trades due to the audit cycle for two of the most active funds, and we've got another fund (a big one) that is selling off all of its holdings. Liquidating everything. I imagine some Hedge Fund Advisor somewhere owes a lot of money to some somebodies and is trying to cash in while the cashing is good (and all of his bones are still unbroken).

Incidentally, I'm in the middle of a book about Murder Incorporated, the enforcement and contract killing arm of the national crime syndicate ("The Syndicate") in the 1930s and 40s. The stories are incredible. Every two-and-a-half pages they detail another gangland execution and I've got to imagine screenwriters would be tripping over themselves trying to write these up into guaranteed hits staring all of Hollywood's tough guys. None of this Tom Hanks as a gunman baloney. The Coen brothers would be a shoo-in to direct anything from this narrative. Or Coppola.

And another thing! The language is amazing! I'd love to hear this book as told by the original author (B. Turkus, a NYC ADA) instead of reading the transcript. I think people really did talk like this, everyday, not just in the movies:

There was no method of murder their fiendish ingenuity overlooked. They used the gun, the strangling rope, the ice pick -- commonplace tools for homicide. There was the unimaginative mob-style ride, the shotgun blast on the lonely street. And there were the bizarre touches, too. Dozens were dropped into quicklime pits. Others were buried alive, cremated... Fantastic? It can't happen in your town? It did!"

The book is strewn with alliteration, catchy phrasing, and amusing direct address. "Fiendish ingenuity," "parasitic pirates..out to foment or break strikes for fancy fees." It is fantastic.

And speaking of gangs...Real Time Worlds, the makers of Crackdown for the Xbox 360, have just announced their next project: All Points Bulletin. A cops/criminals real time MMO action title set in a current day urban landscape. Looks incredible. Great concept, great team behind it, solid premise, here's a preview.

That's just a quick update. I'm heading out to grab a cup of coffee to combat my fatigue. Hope all of you in Boston are enjoying the snow.

At Capacity (Blogging Drunk)

Reading: "Just thought you should know. It's cold in Boston, so I have my parent's apartment's basement fire on. That's a lie but I'm 4 beers in, so it could be coming soon. BTW I think 4 beers is my optimum blogging capacity."

Optimal Blogging Capacity should be right up there with Blood Alcohol Level as a standard measure of inebriation.

What's your OBC?

-t

Last Minute Xmas Shopping For Blog Readers

From Matthew Baldwin's
Holiday Last-Minute Survival Guide for Slackers:

Hey, here’s a thought. Why not buy pretty much anything sold at dealextreme.com? JFC, I don’t even know where to begin. The Braised Pork Cell Phone Charm? The Professional Laser Guided Precision Scissors? The Stainless Lighter With 4GB USB Disk? The LED Light Illuminated Ear Pick? The Hamburger 12 CD Flannel Storage Bag? The Shock-Your-Friend Electrified Dummy Digital Camera? The Digital Buddhist Jukebox in Tibetan (5 Songs)? The TDR USA 16-inch Crossbow? The Whatever-the-Hell That Promotes Bowel Movement for Pets?

I’m pretty sure this web site is based in some alternate dimension where Lincoln used kung fu to disarm his assassin and now everything is AWESOME.

I concur.

-t

Screwed on Christmas

A few weeks ago I started checking my vacation calendar. How many days I'd used, how many I had left that wouldn't roll over to the new calendar year, which days in the upcoming weeks I could burn.

As I was about to request some time off (specifically, the last few Fridays of the year) we got an email stating someone else in the group had beat me to it.

He was flying to Cleveland last Friday, so he put in for the time, got it, and then thought "why not try forthe remaining Fridays" and did, and got them (12/14, 12/21, 12/28)

I don't begrudge him the time off, it's unfortunate for me that he got there first.

So, I did the next best thing, I requested the remaining Mondays off. I doubled checked. I realized that Monday is Christmas Eve and some people may have already requested it. I checked the calendar for approved requests, and I checked the calendar for pending requests. Nothing. It looked open. Sweet.

So I got last Monday (12/17) and slept most of the day, and asked for next Monday (12/24), Christmas Eve, and was denied.

Denied! I couldn't believe it! Here's this new kid in the group who gets three Fridays in a row off, and I can't get two Mondays?

I asked my manager about it. "Sorry, too many people have the day off." I told him I'd checked the calendar, and no one had the day off. Turns out, he took Christmas Eve for himself. He is "too many people." You know what? Fine. If I were managing a group you can bet I'd give myself the pick of the vacation calendar. Screw the working man, managment is taking it easy. Fine. No vacation for the underlings.

So, imagine my surprise this morning when I received an email from my manager:

"Please cover the new kid's funds today and Monday, since he will be on vacation both days."

What the hell?!

I requested Monday off when last week and was denied! When did this kid sneak in his request, and why did you approve his request and not mine?!

And now I've got to cover his work? While he's on vacation? On Christmas Eve?

What the hell.

Foresight

I'd just like to go on the record as saying I'm totally OK with paying through the nose this offseason to get A-Rod to come play third base for us. Or shortstop. Or second base. Or first. Or closer.

I like Mike Lowell at third base. He's having a hell of a year. I'd be totally ok with extending his contract through 2009 or 2010 and letting him retire in Boston.

But I'm also totally ok with replacing him with maybe the greatest baseball player in the history of baseball. I've hated A-Rod since he became a Yankee. I will continue to hate him as long as he's a Yankee or playing in the American League East - but man, how messed up are you if you don't want him playing on your hometown nine? He's practically a force of nature! The numbers! They're incredible! Can you even comprehend what sort of offense Ortiz-Ramirez-Rodriguez would generate? I can't. I'm telling you, I cannot comprehend it. Hell, A-Rod would make J.D. Drew a better hitter!

So, Theo, I totally trust you, and only want to let you know, there is at least one fan who gets that putting Alex Rodriguez on the payroll would be freakin' awesome.

For clarity's sake, however, (and my Boston reader's sanity) I will reiterate the following:

• I hate Jeter, and will hate Jeter now matter how long he plays or how many different teams he plays for (Ha. Right. Like Jeter is ever not going to be a Yankee).


• I hate Giambi. I have always hated Giambi.


• I hate the entire Yankee organization.


• I hope A-Rod doesn't get a clutch hit for the remainder of his tenure in New York, and I hope he commits three (costly) errors a game.


• Go Red Sox

Just wanted to get that out there.

A cluttered mind is like a cluttered house - or, in my case, exactly like it

I think my brain works faster during baseball season. In the crowded little one-family that is my mind, there are rooms full of clutter. The friends' room, where I keep everybody's names and faces, and the how-I-know-thems, is up on the top floor (really a converted attic with tall exposed ceilings, an old couch and armchair and coffee table, and plenty of natural light streaming in, perfect for mingling); the work room, which isn't really a room as much as it's an alcove or nook, with a small electric typewriter, solar-powered calculator, and some cluttered papers - it's also got a lovely view of the yard outside which is usually filled with kids playing wiffleball, or cute birds and animals doing distracting interesting things; the kitchen, living room, dining room, etc.

There are also lots of bedrooms. Of course, since there's only me (and the mingling friends in the attic) the bedrooms are mostly used for storage. One room's got a bunch of comic books and video games; one's got piles of text books from high school, and the notebooks from college I haven't lost - that's also the room that's got my driver's ed "rules of the road" handbook" and maps of Massachusetts highways (at least, I think they're buried in there); one room's got all my childhood memories, though they've been pushed back against one wall as the amount of trivia I've accumulated over the years has built up (Vincent Price played the Batman villian Eggman on the Adam West tv series);

another room has got most of my sports stuff: soccer cleats and shin guards from my under-12 season, broken street hockey nets tangled with street hockey sticks, uniforms from some of my youth hockey teams, basketballs, soccer balls, a ton of tennis balls, wiffleballs, old bases, old baseball gloves, team jackets, rollerblades, and so on.

But. There's a room up here that I don't use for clutter. It's in the same hallway, but there are two differences: the door is usually shut during the winter, and it's clean and neat and tidy.

It's the baseball room.

It's a small room, a little bigger than a small closet. It's got a large window with lead counter weights in the frame. It's got a small three-drawer desk with an old radio on it. There's plenty of floor space to spread out rosters, or stats cards. Blank scorecards are set neatly on a shelf above the desk that also holds a framed team photo of the 2004 World Champion Red Sox. On the wall facing the window there's a faded Boston Braves pennant, and a Boston Red Sox pennant from my first ever baseball game at Fenway Park. On the back wall there's a little bookcase that's got mostly biographies of major leaguers (like Ted Williams, Honus Wagner, and Joe DiMaggio) and a couple books on baseball (Summer of '49, Ball Four), Baseball Prospectus for the last five years, and a few binders on the bottom shelf with some baseball cards I've still got kicking around.

It's where I got to watch games. There's a copy of the Rules of Baseball on the desk for quick reference if needed, and a box each of black, blue, and red pens (for the keeping score).

It's one of my favorite rooms. I don't clutter it up with stuff, ever. Even when all the other rooms seem full and I just don't have anywhere to put your name, and why I should care about you, I leave that room alone.

Nope, instead I'll wander around for a little while holding that bit of info, and toss it when I judge it too much work for too little benefit (which is why I don't remember friends' significant others, or new coworkers); or that it's important enough to remember, and get rid of some other bit of information I've got kicking about to make room (which is why I forget telephone numbers - sorry, Adina).

But no matter how much junk I stuff into closets, or how many bits of personal history I've got to toss out, I'll keep that baseball room clean.

With the door open, I've got more space to move around, and I've got a quiet place to sit meditate. Things make more sense in that room, and I think better when it's open.

-t

Red Sox: 2008, Another Impossible Dream?

Over the course of the winter there's nothing like the incessant grinding of the Red Sox rumor mill - you've got your yearly Manny trade buzz, Coco Crisp daydreams, and musings about finding a Gonzalez-caliber defensive shortstop with Lugo's bat and speed. It seems that in the last few weeks of spring training this year things really kicked into high gear, especially with the will-he-or-won't-he Papelbon (anti)drama.

Some of the better rumors included:
Clemens! Can we sign him if he decides to pitch this year!?!?!

Should we trade for Houston's Brad Lidge? Sure he's had a rough season so far, but maybe he'll turn it around! That's why we took a shot with Snyder, right?

How about a deal that will send Lester, Hansen, and Manny to Chicago for Soriano?

Move Lowell and Mirabelli to bring back Edgar Renteria!

There's some crazy stuff out there.

One of the most ludicrous stories I've heard this year is the suggestion that we should deal Manny for the Seattle Mariner's Ichiro, straight up.

First of all, I don't ever want to see Manny in any uniform other than Boston's, and, second of all, and way more importantly, Ichiro is a free agent at the end of this year! We'd be dealing one of the greatest hitters in baseball for four months of a declining former-greatest hitter that we'd then lose at the end of the season to free agency!

Ridiculous.

But, it got me to thinking. What if we really were interested in Ichiro. We could pick him up at the end of the season in free agency. We've certainly demonstrated that we're willing to pay over-and-above top dollar for Japanese talent. As long as John Henry's writing the checks, I say, the moon's the limit!

What if money weren't an option? Put on your Steinbrenner caps now (I kid, I kid, I wouldn't be caught dead in a Yankees cap - or pinstripes) and think about writing an awfully big check for the 2008 free agent class:

Johan Santana - declined an extension with the Twins at $9 million a year for two years. Would probably command $20 million per in free agency.

Torii Hunter - another Twin on the move, Coco's detractors would certainly cheer to see him flying around in center field. Unless of course you could get

Andruw Jones - who will probably be the biggest free agent signing of next year, whoever lands him. There's also

Adam Dunn - who's off to a great start this year for the Reds in the NL. And, of course,

Ichiro Suzuki - I was only kidding about him being on the decline. Sure his numbers have decreased for each of the last four seasons, but he's just gone from being light-years ahead of everybody else, to being miles beyond everybody else. And man, he's fast.

You've also got Roger Clemens (who should definitely end his career in Boston, though I really believe the Red Sox brass wouldn't be too disappointed if he ended up somewhere else, because at least then the organization won't have to field the inevitable performing enhancers probe), Carlos Zambrano (about a zillion sports writers' pick to win the Cy Young), Freddy Garcia (top of the rotation pitching! get 'em while they're young!), and, oh, Mariano Rivera - (he probably won't be coming to Boston).

Oh, oh yeah, I forgot to mention, there is one more potential free agent, maybe, possibly worth a look, you know, if your home town team is in the habit of picking up a new shortstop every single season (I'm looking at you, Theo):

Alex Rodriguez.

Whoa. Whoa. Enough with the throwing of the batteries. Two points:

1. Rodriguez is the best shortstop to ever play the game of baseball.

2. There is no second point, Alex Rodriguez is the best shortstop to ever play the game of baseball!



Now imagine. Just for a second. With all these guys on the table. Here's what the roster could look like:


C Jason Varitek (.269/.348/.450)

1B Kevin Youkilis (.275/.379/.423)

2B Dustin Pedroia (.191/.258/.303)

3B Mike Lowell (.273/.339/.463)

SS Alex Rodriguez (.305/.386/.573)

OF
Manny Ramirez (.314/.411/.600)
Andruw Jones (.267/.345/.505)
JD Drew (.286/.393/.512)
Ichiro Suzuki (.331/.376/.438)

DH David Ortiz (.283/.374/.550)


SP
Josh Beckett (57-45, 3.85)
Johan Santana (78-31, 3.20)
Daisuke Matsuzaka (17-9, 3.62)*
Roger Clemens (348-178, 3.10)
John Lester (7-2, 4.76)
Curt Schilling (207-138, 3.44)
Tim Wakefield (151-134, 4.30)

RP
Joe Nathan (124, 210.2, 1.97)
Brad Lidge (104, 134, 3.29)
Javier Lopez (4, 132, 5.66)
Craig Hansen (0, 41, 6.59)
JC Romero (2, 456, 4.60)
Brendan Donnelly (4, 295, 2.87)
Kyle Snyder (0, 181.2, 5.94)

CL
Jonathan Papelbon (35, 68.1, .92)**


Some quick notes to wrap it up:

-The above stats are career numbers through 2006 from Retrosheet (except Matsuzaka's - see * below).
Hitters (AVG/OBP/SLG), SP (W-L/ERA), Bullpen (Saves, IP, ERA)

-No, I have no idea how to trade for Brad Lidge and keeep Hansen at the same time. Both phenomenal closers (one pre-, one -post) with phenomenal sliders, you figure Houston wouldn't hate to swap them straight up) but it would be cool to have both.

-Lidge (7th) and Nathan (8th) would set up for Papelbon. No question.

-I'd be ok with losing Clemens to the Astros (or retirement) by next year, and Schilling, potentially, and replacing either with Carlos Zambrano, or Freddy Garcia.

-I'd try to hang on to Wily Mo Pena and Doug Mirabelli, and stick Ichiro with them as bench guys. Platoon Wily Mo with Drew in right, and Ichiro with Jones in left.

-I was under the impression that the Sox are thinking about moving Lowell sometime this year, but I have no idea who they'd get to replace him. He' certainly the best third baseman in free agency after this season.

-I also kept my eyes open for first basemen, thinking if they do drop Lowell they could shift Youkilis to third and open a spot for a heavy hitter, but I like it the way it is.

-Pedroia. Sure, his numbers look terrible (especially compared to the rest of the lineup), but the guys upstairs have faith in him, so I'm ok with that.

-Finally, recognizing that six of these guys would be signing ridiculous free agent contracts, I would say the payroll for 2008 might be somewhere in the range of eight hundred seventy-three billion dollars.


*My prediction for Matsuzaka's 2007 MLB season
**Papelbon's numbers are from 2006 only

Superfriends

I got a couple emails after the last post asking for some more me-centric details: What did I do at the wedding/reception.

I had a seat at table five. Adina and Mr. Anonymous also had places there. Adina, I saved your name card. I might mail it to you. Also, I ate your dessert. And Mr. Anonymous's.

The rest of the table was made up of...Christina, her boyfriend, Heater, her boyfriend, Joe, and Emily. Christina had moved to New York three months ago and had taken a bus to Boston for the wedding. It was an eight hour trip because of the snowstorm. She also repeatedly said she lived in Boston, not New York, explaining that "being here with all my old school friends, it's like I never left, so I'm sort of slipping back." Which, I know from experience (having never moved away and visited Boston) could happen to anyone.

Emily is from Australia. Naturally by way of introduction I said "So, you're from Australia....do you watch Lost?


Actually, I said "So, you're from Australia...Queensland?" and she was all "DUDE! YES! Why would you say Queensland? That's so killer!"

And I was all, well, it was either that or Sydney...those are the only two place I know. Then I asked if she watched Lost.

I'm not kidding. I spent the first twenty minutes of dinner rehashing season 3 so far, then I ate three desserts, then there was some crazy dancing going on. I requested some Jude - but the DJs didn't have it, so I requested something Irish for St. Patrick's Day, and they were like "...um, Cranberries?" and I was all, "dude, that is so lame" and then they were like, "Pogues?" and I was like, "Now we're talking."

I also requested some Bee Gees. Which, serendipitously, Erin had forgotten to give to the DJs as part of her required playlist, as she and her dad apparently dance to "Stayin' Alive" at every wedding they attend. So, Tom's phenomenal taste in music saves the day! I'm the hero of the wedding!

I then spent about half an hour talking video games with some of JP's high school friends and Emily, the Australian, because, it turns out, they're all we're all huge nerds, and two thirds of them work in the video gaming industry. I told everybody to play Prince of Persia, Emily made sure I'd promise to try Elder Scrolls Oblivion, and there was a general consensus that Burnout Revenge is an awesome game.

Then there was more dancing.

And then I was invited to the after party. Which was a freaking blast. I discussed movies all night with these people who were carting around liters of alcohol (becasue the hotel bar closed at 10 (wtf, RI?) to all floors and lounges of the hotel (eventually settling in the lobby - where they had COMPLIMENTARY COFFEE! which was totally sweet), specificaly Cohen brothers movies, and also did a fair share of debating comic-book-to-movie adaptaions, specifically alan Moore's V for Vendetta and Frank Miller's 300.

I was genuinely impressed by the caliber and quality of Erin's friends. I would not hesitate to place erinire's bunch right up there with our 18aers. I found it very encouraging that there are other awesome people out there, and that folks who aren't me had opportunities to be a part of that. I've got a small notion that maybe we could get everybody together. Erin's friends, my friends, and form the Superfriends! (You know, like Spiderman and his Amazing Friends (Firestar and Iceman) - also, I'd get to be Spiderman.)

They were some great people. Everybody, the whole time. It was wonderful.

-t

And They Danced To Yoshimi...

I count myself fortunate to be one of the few friends intvited to, and, more importantly, able to attend, Erin's wedding. (Though, point of fact, I never actually received an invitation, as it was lost in the mail.)

The ceremony took place on what would undoubtedly have been a beautiful, warm, spring day, if not for the seven inches of snow and biting wind that had arrived the night before courtesy of Old Man Winter - but, as they say: "There's no such thing as bad weather, only different types of good weather." And, while the snowstorm did have the unfortunate effect of preventing eight or nine of the guests from attending, the sqaull certainly did nothing to diminish the joyful spirit of the occaission.

The wedding party looked wonderful; JP, the groom, and his best men dressed in ultra-cool no-button tuxes (though there were rumors some of the wedding party had been lobbying for lime green and ruffles), and the bridesmaids in a wonderful deep green. The ceremony itself was very nice, Erin teared up during the vows and held her composure remarkably well otherwise.

But the real fun, was the reception.

To begin: An open-bar cocktail hour while the wedding party was busy with photographs. This correspondent, who had found himself utterly alone upon entering - as his anticipated companions had been waylaid by the storm - was soon surrounded by one of the more charming groups of people he has had chance to meet. First, I was befriended by Kristin, girlfriend of the best man, and similarly unattached while the wedding party was engaged, and then, soon after, Meagan, who I encouraged to sign the hitherto unsigned guestbook, and lead by example.

As soon as the photographer was done with them, the smiling bride and groom made their way out to the bar to greet their guests. JP was shaking hands with everyone with an enormous grin upon his face, and Erin (cocktail in hand) could be seen hopping from group to group laughing and smiling, while simultaneously inquiring about the ceremony, her hair, the dress, and if everything had gone well. In my opinion, and, indeed, that of everyone she asked, everything had gone splendidly.

On, then, to the dinner portion of the evening. The guests were asked to enter the ballroom and take there seats (I found myself at a table with a few of JP's high school friends and their dates), and the wedding party was introduced.

As they took their seats at the main table I was struck, immediately, by Erin - her composure, her poise, the light, the dress, the look of calm and air of comfort and assuredness - she was, it seemed, meant to be a bride.

Those of you who have been keeping up with her rants and ramblings at erinire might be under the impression that Erin is excitable, frenzied, frustrated, or overwhelemed. Please, let me assure you that she was none of those things, and seemed completely immune to anything except happiness and joy.

As the night wore on (and wear on it did - as the reception was breaking up I was invited to the after party and began to beg off, citing the late hour, only to glance down and my watch to find the time was only nine fifteen! Needless to say, with the night so young, I made my way to the party with haste, and was up with some of the newly married couples closest friends through the night), there was much dancing (Erin's sisters the wildest of the bunch) and eating, and dancing, and drinking, but it would not be sufficient to describe it here, with my limited prose.

Instead, I will simply relate that after the wedding party's introduction, Erin and JP were called out for their first dance together as husband and wife. And in a moment that refelcted a perfect uniqueness, whimsy, charm, humor, and grace that I am sure will characterize their life together, they danced to the Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Vs. The Pink Robots.

-t

recommended download:
Yoshimi

The Grey Area

The work, it is unending. It is also mislabeled. There is very little actual "work." As I described in my last post, I am charged with double- or triple-clicking things in a computer program, for seven hours a day. It is very similar to my first real job in that the task is easily understood, endlessly repeating, and I will no doubt master it within two weeks.

Unending, and uninteresting. My coworkers, however, seem smart and competent. We will see how long that illusion lasts.

I have no other news at this time. I have not yet worked out a good system for updating my blog, reading others blogs, and thinking creative, original thoughts. The job seems to preclude thinking in its higher forms. While the activity itself is not intellectually taxing, the constantness precludes any time at all for losing oneself in a daydream, weird fantasy, or thinking up a clever haiku about the weather:

slush, sleet, freezing rain
my hometown's "wintery mix"
southerners' "torture"

Alas, there is work enough that I am not bored, and not enough work that I am at all stimulated. The limbo of computerized accounting. The gap between sunset and twilight and night when you can't tell see colors, when the sky blends so totally into the horizon you swear the earth doesn't end, just overlaps. The grey area. Stasis. I will no longer work. I'll muddle.


It's going to be weird.

The end of an (frustrating, confusing, wasteful) era

Today's my last day. It's been seven months. My problem-solving skills have regressed to a high school sophmore level. I'm not looking for a celebration - I just want it to be over.


It's also the final day for one of the VP's. The alcoholic one. They've planned a Fanueil Hall pub crawl from the Purple Shamrock to the Bell in Hand.

The biggest problem I face today is figuring out how to carry my Far Side desk calendar and LA Times Crossword of the Day desk calendar in my jacket along with my ipod and book on the coldest day on record.

I think I'll use my pockets.

-t

What we've all been waiting for

WELCOME BACK WINTER!

Nine degrees Farenheit.

With a wind chill of minus nine!

You know what comes next, right? SNOW, BABAY.

I've been toting my winter hat and gloves with me for three weeks, today I got to wear them. That's how cold it's supposed to be in January.

Way to go Mother Nature.

-t


recommended downloads:
Matchbox Twenty, What You Need, and So Sad, So Lonely