Old Personal News

(starting with the week that ended 2-20-05)

Another Week in Phoenix; This One Ended on 2-27-05

Lots of phone calls so far; Dad, Barney, FCP, TPG, no Mom yet...Nachos, asparagus, and rice being cooked. I may have to go shop a little bit. (This is still Sunday 2-20-05. I was cruising at 6 pm; getting ready to go shop and get gas, then Barney calls again. He says to come over. Okay; I'll give him 1 more chance to disappoint me. Hey look; all went okay--the short end was not his fault. Wow. So I come back to an already disappointed girlfriend at 7:30. Called TPG to see if he had heard from Pool Guy--it's his birthday. Not yet, but TPG is down the street. So I grabbed my gear and headed for Sam's--if Pool Guy is out then we will find him. I ran into a small Sunday crowd of strangers at Sam's. Boring golf and pinball. I crazily decided to go across the street for 1 more game of golf--and to see if birthday boy was there. He was not. So I was home before 11. Good. No food. I uploaded shit, and crashed. Bed felt good. Soon it was morning. I'm up
and scrounging for a Monday. To work, where again, we have no boss. "No boss" means nobody to bitch at me about Friday--so I keep the cool job for 1 more day. O and I are putting together the "Otis Rap"--it's a mess. "Otis" is not an easy rhyme, but you can stretch it. We are so easily amused. I got 1 out of 3, and was happy. We're all falling asleep in between calls--so it ain't just me. The day finally ends, and I'm heading to the gym. Hey look; we have a new huge pulling machine. I'll try it; ouch, okay I'm done. I have my own torture, thank you. H was there; he's doing well. I'll learn the big new scary machine--just not today. I hurt; skipping 2 workouts last week was dumb. Sure. Then I'm home at 4 to make the killer aspararice/'shroom/crumble thing that I turned into burritos; Static Girl ate it straight. Forgot my video tapes; that's no Unexplained Mysteries from last night, and no PTI from today; this sucks. Then it would be snuggle time; yay. Then I foolishly called my Mom. She wants to be standoffish and ask trick questions; why do people keep fucking with me? If it's not goddamn worthless strangers, then it's friends and family. Is it such a fucking mystery why I want to be alone--with occaisional Static Girl hugs? Man I just don't fucking know anymore. Here's my good news; I am NOT at the bar. I won't be going to the bar for at least 16 hours. Ha; so I'm not a drunk. I thanked Static Girl for being such an incredible girlfriend who doesn't bother me with...anything. Ever. Bedtime came early, actually; there's nothing to fucking stay awake here for.
Up for a dress-up Tuesday. More rain and gloom--I like this part. I did the yellow short sleeve with a cool blue tie. Go me. I figured it to be a weak day. It was. I'm a fucking genius. So it's all sloppy, slow and mean. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to be on a team where people frequently mouth off, throw their headphones, get upset, and occaisionally stomp off for a few minutes. I am SO glad that it's not just me. Fucking people. Fucking dumbass people; why would you purposely piss off the guy (person) who is looking at YOUR money account? Why would you be so dumb? What if YOU are the person that I snap on, motherfucker? What if I just start talking total credit smackdown on you, and spoon feed your private info to one of the hacks I know? Sure; it would kill off my cool job and cooler side business, but it might be worth it just to fuck you--plus I'd get some money up front. And you old people! Jeezus; I never liked you fuckers anyway; can't see, can't drive, you walk too damn slow; you'd spend all day telling one stupid story--just so you'd have something to do. Women piss me off, yes, but OLD fucking people are the bottom-of-the-cold-coffee-pot worst of all. Swell up like blowfish, and fucking die already; we are waiting. Patiently. I start to understand the nurses who "facilitate" the food chain by helping to eliminate the older, unhappy guests who have been in the hospital too fucking long already anyway. That's it! I want to be a fucking nurse! Then I'd get to cook, torture, terrorize, and maybe rid some damn people. I could eat their meds and talk to the dead; dance with 'em, maybe fuck a few, and carve off some steaks. I could steal their jewelry, write some fake suicide notes, practice head-butting them. Call me a guidance fucking counselor. Where was I? Having a shitty day at work; right. Nurse Overnight Guy, ha. Thank God for O keeping me giggling with his beat box and our "Otis Rap". We added some more to it today; it's almost a for-real song now. Okay; not really, but it's funny. And how 'bout some credit where credit's due? No bar tonight; that's like, 2 days in a row for me--dry. I quit drinking. Okay; not really, but it's funny. I quit smoking, too. Never mind. I may have figured out something about the random flirtations of females; seriously. Try this thought out; even the pretty girls want to smile at some guy--at least once a day; it's possible. So a girl is walking around, and she sees a not-too-ugly guy looking okay, dressed a little better than average, and wearing a tie. He COULD be the one she smiles at; see? Oh, it's been happening. 3 times yesterday, and 2wice today. Will I wear a tie again 2maro? Oh I think so. Where are we? At work--having a crappy day, but getting smiled at. Well; oh yeah, there were a few moments when I felt like giving up. But then I'd get 1 cool call amidst the crap, a little glimpse into my magic, and I could keep on going. Before this day was over I would hat trick. Huh? If you hat-tricked, then what the hell are you bitching about--tie man? More like; tie OLD man. Shit. It wasn't that bad, I guess. I just need some help with perspective sometimes. Sure. So we get out, and come home to change clothes. My mechanical place says they can do a quick oil change; and then it took...90 minutes to get Gus into a bay. But they looked him over pretty well, and concluded that he's not in horrible shape. The transmission fluid flush is impending, shocks and rods need replacing. And bushings; whatever the hell they are. But it's not too bad overall. Another mechanic is impressed with the 220K mile warrior. He'll need 2 more tires, too. I need more money. Home to eat cheap burritos and watch today's PTI. Tuesday night tv; Scrubs and House collide? What moron set that up? House is good. Look at me--not at the bar. Not at the bar, and doing laundry, even. I got to thank Static Girl again for being so much better than...well, anything else in my physical world. I called her "Conceptual Apathy". Thank you Static Girl. Now I'm back here with more Caviar--gee, imagine. Ok Nightmare is my new favorite Caviar song. I'll go to bed already. Up
on 2 alarms for Wednesday. Red shirt; green tie. I looked good. The mood at work was much better than usual. We were kids with no teacher again; we're used to it by now. Everybody was producing; I had a nice hat trick before lunch--you won't hear me complaining. Again, O had me cracking up with his beat boxing. He says that he took the Otis Rap to one of his buddies who has a DJ set-up station, and they had some fun with it. If we nail down 2 more verses, look the fuck out, baby. So it was an okay day. Our team is a good collection of people. Turns out that our team was monitored yesterday by the department boss. We were the only team that didn't make any mistakes; sure, whatever. But they are now going to promote us as a whole team to a new section--apparently the way we encourage each other is unique and effective. This is a joke. We all just sit around and look for reasons to laugh at shit. We all cuss in between calls, shoot birds at each other, and throw paper wads. We're less like a team, and more like an actual family; some of us don't like each other. I mean; there's 2 bitchy pregnant girls AND 2 single moms in here--don't call these MY people. Shit. But I'll take a team promotion. Sure. Post-work, it's workout time. I didn't have as much time as I wanted, but I got 2 fair circuits in; 3 tricep terminaters. Whee. Then I'm home to cook up the yummy potatos that I soaked last night; that was brilliant on my part, thank you. So we cooked. Girlfriend loves it when I cook for her. I love to have a good day at work, come home and cook FOR her. I called her style "passionate apathy". She liked it. And then it's snuggle time. Yay. Afterwards I was tired. Had that feeling I should call TPG; he's at the bad bar with Pool Guy. I feel golf and medium stupidity coming on; call me a psychic. This is how I spent 4 Caviar songs after my shower--hope you enjoyed it. Yes. It turned into the aforementioned medium stupidity, but I thought it would be okay. Unfortunately, after getting home and crashing, waking up
for Thursday wasn't going to happen. I've been too tired lately anyway, and it looks like I'll be sleeping till noon today. There were a few alarms, some chances to get up and save the day, sure, but it just wasn't important enough. It's just fucking existence after all; it's not like any of us are allowed to split atoms, cure diseases, or do anything that might actually help. I will remind you of that last line when I finally do commit suicide. Finally awake, I decided to eat the lunch I would have eaten at work today. Later, possibly this same day, I went and had my final dental visit! We got the other 3 fillings done, and my mouth is about as set as it's going to get. So that's all 13 major fillings filled, over 5 consecutive Thursdays. Came home, and in my gloomy celebratory logic decided to go back to the bar; ha, and stay in (2maro) on Friday night. So I went and had a nice short run on Thursday night, then came home and crashed hard. No trouble waking up
for work Friday. Wore the new shirt that my FCP sent me; I'll change my answering machine to that statement later, as well. At work, I was funny. Wound up with more of the 2 outta 3's than anybody else in my Group. In the ranking overall of 69 people in the current marketing department, I am 19th. I'd be top ten with just a little more money. Oh well. I'll have to take Gus in for repairs today, and leave him overnight, and have girlfriend take me to work 2maro morning. The next paycheck looks okay, so I'm going to have some work done that I should have had done years ago--kind of like my teeth. No workout; and my left ankle is hurting pretty bad. Home to make calls and check out mechanical possibilities. We're going to get the transmission totally flushed, and do some new shocks; a little under $300 total. It seems to be competitively priced. Then I'm riding home with Static Girl to make yummy black bean ricey shit. Yum. Then we're having good snuggle. Her great idea was to watch the 3-hour Lord of the Rings 2 movie. In honor of Bill Hicks and my girlfriend, I did it. It was excellent sitting next to my baby for 3 hours, and eating hot Pringles. All I've wanted to do all day was play GT2, and I ain't there yet, but I'm trying to take care of more than just the selfish side. You're supposed to be fucking impressed; are you? I would play an hour of GT2 before going to bed at 1. Nice. Vicodin sleep; and then up
around 6 am for work Saturday. Got there right at 7; thanks Static Girl. I didn't feel so great about working, but went and did it anyway. O showed up, and then left. Bad O; that may cost him his job. Would eventually get my regular 2 outta 3, and then the day was pretty much over. At 1, I bounced down the steps to find...my girlfriend waiting for me! That was nice. So she brought me home, and we ate some pesto that she had cooked--it was yummy. A little GT1, and then we're picking up Gus. Gus is one very happy ride right now. (As said before) Like my teeth; we finally got some work done that we've been needing to get done for years. Gus and my mouth are happy. This party will end up at the bar; I mean, you already fucking know this, right? Good. But it's only 2 pm. I went to go check on my girlfriend in her room, and she was all laid out on her bed with the blanket covering her. I thought; a nap! What a great fucking idea! So I went back to my room and took one, too. Then I was up around 5, and it was about that time. So I ate a good Vicodin and went. Remember the band 3 Dog Night? This will be a 3 Drug Night here. I was having a blast, buzzing all through the late afternoon while camping early at my bar. I really felt Git-R-Done good about going to work, and ride repairs earlier today. There definitely IS something to the idea of that feeling of accomplishment--earning your 3 Drug Night. Solo golf is also great when you're pissed at people anyway. Good early pinball, too. Went out on the 1st round of poker; my pocket Queens fell to triple 2's; fuck. When pocket Queens lose, it's time to go play pinball--I'm profound. Got a 400 mil game that sits under my 511 high score on Monster Bash; you only need 307 mil to put your name up--good luck, fudge breath! Ha. You; I'm asking you: have you ever scored even 200 mil on Monster Bash? It only takes 30 minutes and 2 multiballs. Took MAM on a ride around the block an hour later; it's his good Vicodin I'm eating anyway. Whee. I would also rule some golf later. And then at 10, right when everybody else was setting up for round 2 of poker, I came home and ate Pringles. Ha. It's nice to get good sleep, and still wake up
before 11 Sunday. I kept asking my head, 'Are you sure? We can sleep lots more.' So we're up, chock full of FCP coffee, and it will become some GT of some kind; 1 or 2. It could even be a 3 Drug Day before I'm done here. We may miss that feeling of accomplishment today. Oh well. Scary news; it looks like my direct deposit already went through. I may have to go celebrate now. Look out...

Another Week in Phoenix; This One Ended on 2-20-05

Now I'm thinking about a shower--don't want to go to the bar dirty. (This is the rest of Sunday 2-13) So I took my change jars to the Coinstar at Safeway--gonna get a Sunday paper and some drinking money. Then went to Walgreen's to get more dental Vicodin--my 4 new right side fiilings are throbbing and temperature-sensitive; fucking great. So then it becomes a run. Pinball initials, and then golf. Saw D from MIC; he's still a little scary pervert--I always liked him. Wound up heading across the street at 10; I was trembling and sweating, twitching and mumbling. Not drunk, but definitely a guy who's been to the bar a few too many nights in a row. Awww. So I came home to dance on the balcony, and then to tape/watch an incredible Unexplained Mysteries about aliens and encounters. Wow. So then it's 1 am, and time to hit the bed and get ready for Dr. D 2maro. Slept in till
8 am Monday, Valentines Day. Coffee, and we're heading down for the docs. Dr. D looks allright, and he said my ear is beautiful; I don't need to come back to him unless there's a problem--very good news. Time for some Hap's. I got the first slab of the day; yum, and coleslaw. My bank account is pretty low--where is that direct deposit stuff? Starting to piss me off. Now I'm home and broke, apparently. And there will be no happy reunion between me and the Air Corps Citadel shoes--those shoes are long gone. I'm sure there are many poor children in Indonesia still making similar shoes, but regular channels won't link me up to the long-gone Air Corps. Is it too early to start eating pain pills? The bar? Is it too early for a bar run? It's noon. I mean; it's noon! Oh wait; today could be sex. Sex might be more important than another bar run. And cheaper. Look at me, all 'sponsible and stuff (horny + cheap). Yeah; that too. How about if I clean the kitchen floor, and cook dinner while watching Bill Hicks' "Sane Man"? I am a genius. Yes, let other men worry about competent romance and red trinkets; I must only make a solid cleansing attempt and demonstrative dinner preparation to be the limited affection recipient of my significant other. My 2-course dinner even had aparagus. I cooked and cleaned for my woman; ladies, what did your man do for you? Did he pick up something on the way home; flowers and such? 5 minutes and $20 out of his life? I spent over 2 hours sweeping, scrubbing, washing, and then cooking for my baby, all while thinking about how much I liked her. Your man is an ungrateful crumb, while I redefine appliable romance. Bite me. After the snuggle, I decided to stay in. No. I was forced to stay in because there is no more drinking money. We must get paid 2maro, right, so I'll go back then. Alone. Maybe with a new GT card. Well, I'll go either way. But I stayed in Monday night--maybe that's when I started on my newest writing thing; 5 years in Phoenix. You want some profound insight into the madness? Oh; it's coming. I can't seem to write shit, or e-write, or e-mail (according to my neglected FCP), I don't talk on the phone, have put the new business on pause, and it's just a weird ride right now. There would be sleep. Up
for work Tuesday. Shirt and tie, of course. People are starting to expect me to be funny and charismatic at work, all the time, everyday. "Oh just talk; man, you're funny as shit." That's good and bad; but I'll be gone soon enough. So I had this below average day going, I didn't care at all--channelling Bill Hicks, and knowing we're going to the bar tonight, baby! Decided to check the at-work paycheck files, and my direct deposit was in! Not only in, but about $100 more than I had figured. Oh I'll drink that profit off tonight. I felt better; like I knew a secret about some impending mass-consumption. I would get sharper, and straighter; funnier--and my dick got hard. Hey look; I really AM channelling Bill Hicks! So apparently I got the voice all revved up for the last hour. Who knew? I nailed down some good work-performance stuff, so it sounded good and unique if they were listening to me. Then I walked some guy right through a call; and it was fucking easy. Then came that moment: 3 minutes left, one call will finish my day, if there is money--I WILL get it. It was a woman--looking to be coddled; the bitch didn't have a chance. Turns out that there was money, all I had to do was be persistent and entertaining (these things I can do). With that $, I was now the #2 person on our team today. So I left work feeling like the man. I would come home with plans to go shop, balance checkbooks, make calls, cook dinner, and...you're not buying any of this shit, are you? Me either. I would do the bare minimum of anything, and be at the bar before 7; I didn't know this yet, though. I'll explain. I went to check the mail at 4:30, and the mail wasn't finished yet. So we did some Will and Grace on the warped tour with my baby, then went back for mail at 5:30 to find my new Golden Tee card. Cool. Okay; now I'm racing to the bar. Oh yes. Got my 2nd box of Chaser; I'm going to need it. In fact, let's make this a Chaser test-night. So I am in major party mode; medium just isn't going to be enough tonight. Right. I wound up getting a -20 on one game; -18 on another. I'm good. Decided to stay a bit too long, as I am apt to do, then came home to eat pain pills. The boy is nuts. I did not feel quite as partied to match my consumption, proving that my tolerance has gone up a bit. I should have been trashed, but I was coherent enough to talk to myself. Felt a little like the aliens were watching and evaluating me. Sure. Whatever. Who drinks that much beer on a skool night? Who? Barney might; Pool Guy might, the old STT could--but you? What the hell were you thinking--Mr. $60 Tuesday night? Fair question. Let's see how we feel at 5:30 when the alarms start going off...Up
at 5:30 Wednesday, on ONE alarm. That gives me time for a 20 minute shower; awesome! So I used all the hot water in Phoenix, and then dressed up like a guy who knows clothes. I dress nice--who is this guy? I can feel a tiny bit of cloudiness in my head; just a little, no big deal. Wow. It sure doesn't feel like a gallon and 3 rides last night. I will work for the Chaser people before it's all over; that's a promise. So I look good, and don't feel bad. Maybe I'll start power-sweating, and shaking, and stuttering, and they'll have to send me home later. Fuck 'em. I almost feel too good for Bill Hicks mode, but I'll work him in; he understands (I wish I could party and eat Chaser with Bill). I don't expect shit today; I'm just going to cruise and try to stay awake. What a sorry day this would be; good day for a hangover--oh wait, I don't have one! Got some good coaching, might get a week off in March, and found out I should be on probation for last month's production-lag; bite me. And I got a little baby $ call with my Leader listening; yay. And we would finally get to the gym. They've missed me, but I'm back. Here comes the sweat. Did most of 2 circuits, with triple triceps; I'm going home. As I walked in, lil J called from Ga; she's 19 months pregnant, about halfway there. Hard to believe she's a 25-yr. old married woman now. Damn I'm old. Warped tour leftovers and tv with a newly depressed girlfriend. So I have to try to cheer her up, which is tough if not futile, and then we would snuggle--where I kept falling asleep; before and afterwards. Bummer. Then showers, and last night's Scrubs, then today's PTI. No hockey this year; duh, and the Buffalo Bills have dumped Bledsoe. Dumped him. Bledsoe, a good quarterback who I still like, he's only 33; he was the Patriots quarterback that Brady stepped in for in 2001--when I became a Patriots fan; remember? And then Drew went to the Bills; I was happy with that whole exchange. Shit. But Bledsoe will not be unemployed for even ONE WEEK. Bledsoe will start for the Cowboys, and his old favorite coach Parcells, in 2005. You heard it here first (well, after Wilbon said it on PTI--and I agree). Now I'm not so tired. So I'm in here typing away and listening to all of Depeche Mode's Exciter. Can you feel a little love? Ha. I'm amusing. Where is my checkbook? Let's see how much money I can spend at the dentist and mechanic this week. Look at me trying to organize finances before another trip to the bar--who is this guy? You're the guy who burps loudly while balancing his checkbook AT the bar? That week in '85; you did your math homework at the Odyssey, with a pitcher in hand, while they all laughed at you; remember? Yeah, bitch, I got a "B" in that class; I should have done more homework at the bar. A "B"; what did you do--get the teacher high? Oh yeah; nevermind. We should write another commentary about the first 5 years in Athens, and 5 years on the radio. Does life puke itself in 5-year chunks? 5-Year Chunks; there's a golden band name. I guess this is how I write now; hope you're enjoying it. It's 10 pm, and girlfriend's gone to bed. I checked e-mail, and got a couple of good ones from my new business--why wouldn't you push this business everyday? That's a fair question. I would go to bed soon. Up
on 2 alarms Thursday. Showered, and didn't feel like dressing up. So I didn't. I feel Bill Hicks pretty close, too; hey Bill. So I go to work, and just so you know--there ain't a whole lot happening on the sales front. This is a big company, and they should know that competition is fierce. I keep waiting for some big promo, or some breakthrough, or something; it hasn't happened yet. A big problem just doesn't fix itself. Our competition is willing to lose a little profit up front--we need to do something more than the little crap doodles we're doing now. Do you see how I am trying to be semi-positive and hopeful here? I'm not actually ragging on my company, just trying to get it going. Sure. Wait; who is this guy? So I had a nothing day; I could barely stay awake. Man. And after this, it's more tooth trauma. Shit. Let me get something--some kind of sale. Nope; nothing. I did ask for my week off in March. Cool. Then it was over, and I ran out to go to the dentist. She hate me; this is 3 or 4 Thursdays in a row. And there'll be one more, at least. I'm just trying to get shit done while I can. Dr. J ripped out my first filling ever, and gave me 2 more. Fun. Hey; more Vicodin--I'm going to start selling this shit in the bathroom at work. Why not? Then I'm done with 'she hate me', and my mouth is numb--time to go shopping. 99cent, and then the new Sunflower market--where my Food City used to be. Cool. I got more asparagus. Home to make stupid hot g/s/v/m. Serrano peppers; the word is NOT in my 1985 dictionary, so it may be spelled differently. Here's what your brain surgeon Overnight Guy did; I'm sitting here at my computer, typing, and my left eye itches. So I go at it; rub, crinkle, squinch, pinch, push, knuckle stab. Boom. Hey, I just realized something: There's still peppers all over my hands! Oh shit! Pain and stupidity all at once; burning like self-induced mace. So I'm crying and squirming, still trying to rub the pain away, my whole face is on fire, flames you can't see--like rocket fuel, and I'm rolling around on the floor and screaming. Tried to get some sympathy from Static Girl and Tegan--but they both laughed at me. Great. Why am I not at the bar? Well, it's early. Do we have to go? We'll see. Called Mom, and tried to call TPG. Okay. Bar! And it was fun, too. Came home, and crashed. Up
and ready to go for a Friday. Left with Static Girl; all was well. All was well...until I shit on myself on the drive to work. So I turned around and came back home. More shit; I'm a shit-factory here. Who admits to shitting on himself, ever? I am so cool. I called in to work and told them I was having a shit festival; maybe I'll be in later, maybe not. It was not. Sleep. Giggles. I am shit man. Ha. Up for some tv; bleah. Maybe I won't get fired for this. See; I was on my way to work. I did all the prep necessary. The Chasers worked again, woo. So I made burritos out of that insanely hot macaroni, and washed lots of dishes. Then I cooked some good food for dinner, too. Soon enough my baby would come home and eat dinner with me. Then it would become snuggle time. Yay; we like snuggle time. And it went well. Then I decided to try to call TPG and see what Friday night might have. He answered, and we figured to find Pool Guy at the other bar. He was there--that's more Chasers for me. I would soon kidnap him and take him back to Sam's for golf and Caviar. He was trashed. TPG finally showed, but Pool Guy had already cabbed home. I played great golf, and then flubbed pinball with TPG watching. After he left, I got another 500 million game of Monster Bash pinball, ha. I would come home, figuring I might already not have a job anymore, and ate burritos. Then to crash, not even really caring about waking up anymore. And then we're up
Saturday morning on 2 alarms. I feel great. I will work for the Chaser people someday. Shower, and girlfriend was up too. She was nice and huggable; yay, we like huggable. Then I'm off to work. It's still raining; it's been raining for weeks now--in this desert. To work; it took me about 20 minutes to get it going. Then...You could say I had an okay day. You could say I had a good day. You could say I was #1 in a room of 60 people. Yeah, let's go that way. I led the center today; and I was funny, flirty, mouthy; it was cool to be me. I started singing Newcleus; yes--that Newcleus, from like, 1983 or something. "Jam on it", "Computer Age", and "Automan". What did you do today? Did you lead a competitive sales room and sing 22 year old music? I bet you didn't. At your job, were there girls les than half your age smiling and winking at you? Maybe I should try to keep this job, at least for Saturdays. Sure. Out of there, I'm heading for the grocery. Got some groceries, and Code Red; shit, I was out of Red--and that's bad. I don't ever want to run out of Red again, okay? Double shit. Home to sit and watch that incredible UFO show with my Static Girlfriend. Then I'm in here listening to the 2000 Caviar, getting ready to go eat some lunch. Just a thought; it's poker night at my bar. Hmmm. Yes; poker night at the bar would happen in full force. I did much better this time. And it was fun partying with MAM and SLP. Tizzle Bitch, who learned how to play golf from watching me, has now beaten me 4 games in a row. Ripped up good, I came home around midnight and ate everything in the house. Then some chocolate, too. Crashed hard, and got up
Sunday around noon. Lots of phone calls so far; Dad, Barney, FCP, TPG, no Mom yet...Nachos, asparagus, and rice being cooked. I may have to go shop a little bit.

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