Are *you* ready for some football?

If you've been following along I had a bad weekend. I worked approximately 14 high stress hours and broke many things. During all this time I had but one thing to keep me going forward: Monday Night Football. My sister's boyfriend gets a lot of great comp tickets to various events through work, and he got a couple of comp tickets to see the Indianapolis Colts take on the Jacksonville Jaguars. He couldn't make it because of some work function, and when I heard that I offered to take one for the team and come on down to see the game. I had been looking forward to this game ever since I heard about it. Sis just moved to Jacksonville with her beau and I've been keen to see their new place. Also, I've never seen a Monday night football game. Something changes when the crowd knows they are at the only game in the nation at that hour of that week. The energy gets cranked way up. Every town brings it to Monday Night Football.

Jacksonville was no exception. Every Jag home game has been blacked out due to lagging ticket sales. Now, I think black outs are a terrible way to get meat in the seats as it were. If the locals don't get to see their team on TV how are they expected to want to buy a ticket? In any case, the Monday night game was sold out. Sis, Beau, the co-worker and I arrived to a full house crackling with electricity. It was insanity! For the most part the Jacksonville fans were alright. There were some isolated almost altercations and some frustrated idiot threw a styrofoam stick at me after the Colts scored a touchdown. Whatever. I just let the scoreboard do the talking.

Our seats were exceptional. We sat at the end zone in the belly of the enemy. Sis and I sat apart from the group forming a small island of five Colts fans donning blue jerseys. And I had the faux hawk done up in cheap blue hair paint. It didn't look so great, but it got the message across. We slapped fives every time a touch down was scored, after every sack, and pretty much most first downs. It was great. There was a lot of booing from the crowd, but overall they weren't so bad. Well apart from the styrofoam tosser

I'm going to keep this short. I had a blast at the game. It was great to see Sis in Jacksonville. The game was great. I loved watching the Colts drive the ball through the end zone. It was fab staring Manning in the face as he was looking for a receiver.

Techno zombies!

It's been non-stop action for me recently. When we left off, gentle reader I was just coming back from my Chicago trip. I had managed to trade my first three days of oncall to go to training, but now it was time to return to the office and a mountain of work not least of which involved tending to a pager. Thursday was a blur of non-stop go go go from the time I got settled in to the time I went to bed. There is a kind of rhythm to IT calamity; an organic element to technological failure. I'll put it like so avoiding technical jargon: If one thing breaks chances are good at least five people will tell you to fix it. Also, due to the dependency each thing has on another thing when one thing breaks it generally causes a chain reaction of breakage. This creates a notification|work multiplier. The good news is troubleshooting problems is much like slaying zombies: kill the head zombie and they all die. So if you weed out and correct the problem the rest of the world can start moving again. The only issue is that the more things that held dependencies with the core thing that broke means more people will notice the breakage which means more people tell you to fix it and the more people telling you to fix the problem means the more "paperwork" after the fact. It's a nasty cycle. I'm grateful that I actually had a chance to get settled in and check my mail over my coffee and a pop tart prior to the flood gate opening.

I say paperwork, but there's no such thing as paper based communication for me anymore. All notification and updates are done electronically through a web based ticketing system. Things like web based trouble ticketing systems are touted as helpful tools that management magnamimously offers to their technical staffs as a generous aid in the never-ending struggle of zombie slaying commonly known as troubleshooting. In practice this all looks like a different animal. Something breaks: the oncall engineer receives electronic notification which needs to be acknowledged. The oncall engineer then starts furiously typing an e-mail in a desperate attempt at playing beat the panic. Before the second sentence can be typed out three people run by the oncall engineer’s cubicle explaining something has happened. These people are in turn acknowledged. Then the oncall engineer receives at least one instant message requesting to join a troubleshooting chat room to give updates on the issue. It’s around this time that the oncall engineer’s boss is now in play asking what has happened and when will it be fixed. A page goes off requesting the oncall engineer join a telephone bridge call to give an update.

Remember how troubleshooting is like slaying zombies? Well, in a way when a thing breaks it almost instantly starts eating the brains of the people who support things that have those dependencies which effectively increases the zombie horde. Eventually, people start asking when the service will be restored so their particular thing will start working again. At this point the OE manages to ignore everything else and start troubleshooting the issue. A good boss will morph into an offensive linesman and start blocking the newly created zombies, and eventually functionality is restored and all questions are answered.

We have a weekend event called "Fall Release". I have no clue what it is we're releasing, I think it's software, but I know that it takes a huge amount of personnel and other resources to accomplish. In any case, this past weekend there was a lot of movement among the developers and the server teams which resulted in a lot of work in the form of tying loose ends on the network side. My side.

It’s Saturday afternoon when my weekend becomes cataclysmic. I perform a change for someone and it won’t work. Between the two of us we fiddle with all kinds of knobs and nothing seems to make the light turn green. For an hour and a half we work, and then out of frustration and desperation and sheer idiocy I try a command that isn’t even supposed to help the situation. One minute later I lose connectivity to the machine that received the command. It’s at this time that the guy I’m working with loses connectivity to his server. I try to re-establish connectivity. Nothing doing. I try to establish connectivity to the hot standby device (an understudy that can leap out on stage the moment the lead collapses). I can’t get to it. It won't even respond to the most basic call - the simple ping. This is a crucial thing. This is a thing with many many dependencies.

To cut to the chase: I removed my company’s web presence from the Internet for over an hour.

I was working from home so I flew to the office receiving an electronic onslaught of notification all the way. When I got in to the data center a manager (not mine) was there waiting and then standing behind me offering assistance. My manager did hit the scene pretty quickly, though and we worked the issue along with another engineer. Service was restored and now it was time to face the music. I had to sit there and say I broke it.

My boss took it really well. I imagine if our roles were reversed I would be angry in a way that would hearken to the animal kingdom. I’d be baboon-screaming-poo-flinging-jumping-up-and-down-on-my-desk mad. He didn’t even raise his voice. Perhaps he could see how sick I felt about the whole thing. Perhaps, he was terrified of making me cry, a fear that would at one time offend me very deeply, but now I completely endorse if it means I don’t get yelled at. Sincerely though, I appreciate not being cut to shreds.

Regardless, I had a terrible Saturday. Remembering it puts my stomach in knots. I tried to surround myself with friendly faces at a gathering after that terrible outage, but work and technology just wouldn’t cooperate, and I trudged home armed with exceptional chili. My brief time out was restorative. The worst and best part was I had to go home and start working on that problem where I shit the bed to begin with. It felt terrible getting back on that horse, but it was well worth it. I eventually found the problem and fixed it, and nothing blew up. That felt pretty good.

I ended up working much of Saturday night and most of Sunday, and the world kept turning. I did find an hour to go for a lovely motorcycle ride around Eagle Creek. There's a narrow road that feels like a country lane lined with trees, and on Sunday the sun shone down through the golden, orange, fiery red leaves as they lazily drifted over me onto the street like warm, paper snow. It was so warm. The last warm day I believe, and it felt so good. It was centering in a way that I desperately needed.

The next installment: From wind-stealing lows to dizzying highs. My first Monday Night Football game.

Shopping, showing, skiving, skyscraping

Yesterday, I had a chance to go shopping along the Miracle Mile. I always check out the Marshall's first since the Marshall's in Chicago has items I'm far more likely to purchase than the one in Indy. The last time I dropped in I purchased a pair of shoes that became my everyday-in-every-way brown shoes. I walked those things into the ground until they actually increased a half size through use. No such luck on this trip. Actually, my shopping time was brief due to dinner plans so I hit the Levi's store - which didn't have any standout items. I then went to my holy ground, Gap. My wardrobe is composed almost exclusively by Gap. The cuts and the styles just fit right. I finally broke down and accepted a Gap credit card. There's no point in buying all these clothes all the time and not get a little back. I tell myself that as long as I stay on top of it and never ever ever carry a balance I'll be able to reap the rewards of the card and not feel violated by the jaw dropping percentage rate. It's usury plain and simple.

Indy has a good Gap at the Fashion Mall, but this lovely locale on what is truly a Miracle Mile boasts three whole floors. Granted the basement is a kids/baby Gap, but whatever! It's enormous and it has so many clothes! I didn't even bother looking at Ralph Lauren or elsewhere so out of my price range. I hunted through my favorite store on steroids and came up with a hot outfit for my night out. My first ever pair of navy trousers - dark navy cut curvy with pinstripes. Yow! Also a pair of trousers colored in heather with brown criss-cross - not quite plaid and not quite checked. They're a looser fit. Both pants work with the white button up shirt with thin blue stripes. If I were a guy I'd look like a Republican, but I think there's something hot about a woman in mannish clothes cut for ladies - if not bordering on subversive which will always turn my crank at least a quarter revolution.

Today, my training class wrapped up, but not soon enough for me. Somewhere through the instructor's nervousness and his sudden inability to answer my questions satisfactorily I decided to skive off during a brief lunch break and go check out the Sears Tower. I thought this was going to be a twenty minute side trip. I imagined I'd stroll into the tower, get pointed to the appropriate elevator and check out Chicago from the clouds. Not so. I walked into the business side of the building. I figured I was in the wrong place since I didn't have a swipe card and getting to the elevators required one. I was pointed to the right direction, a separate entrance entirely, and was on my way. This skydeck only portion of the Sears tower has a long series of people herding maneuvers. I was ushered to an elevator going down to a basement where I was ushered through a security checkpoint - brief metal detector walk through - then moved along to a ticket counter. Getting to the skydeck costs moolah: $12.95 for the non-tour version. Nineteen for the tour. I opted for the general admission, given a ticket, and was informed there was a movie. OK. I was then greeted by ticket takers who sent me along a corridor where I came to a stop. Up until this point I was moving along at a good clip. I guess things aren't so busy on a Wednesday after lunch. Along each point of my journey I thought, well, I'll pop up to the sky deck around this corner, check it out, and head back to the training. I even told myself that I was willing to part with thirteen dollars for a brief visit to the top of Chicago especially if it meant getting out of class for half an hour. Silly Scrawler. This was not to be. I turned the corner the open doors to a small theater. I thought, oh well I'll skip that and head to the elevators after using the can. Well, when I got out of the restroom I looked around for the elevators up. No such luck. I walked around the theater and saw that the only possible way to proceed to where I thought the elevator was would be through doors towards the front of the theater. As I realized this the doors to said theater closed, and I noticed they had no handles on them. Once they were closed they were closed. No way to just slide in late.

I stood trying not to fume waiting and waiting (I hate to wait). After what seemed like a looong time, but what was really only fifteen minutes I was able to get into the theater that was totally emptied of people and had no visible exit. The way out had the same handle-less door system and there was no skipping this informative film brought to us by the History Channel.

Finally, I got up up up and away. I'm glad I waited through all of that. I took only a couple pictures and of the two I like this one most:


The skyscraper: penis on the outside vagina on the inside! It's a forest of sex organs. How delightful.

Greetings from Chi-town

Good evening from the windy city. The time to blog is upon me which is sensible seeing as how I have approximately a pound of dead cow in my stomach and I'm not much use for anything else at the moment. I didn't start my day this way, and I'm happy to tell you how my current state came to pass - well, will eventually pass but I'm using a phrase.

I'm up here for no particularly fancy reason. It's work related. My company sent me for a two day training class on a product we recently purchased. The quality of instruction has me pleasantly surprised. Generally, two day training means a rush job through the product fraught with sales pitches. I'm tickled to report I've received cogent information from day one. I don't think it's a coincidence this product is really good as well. Good follows good and a company that produces worthwhile software will likely have good people explaining how to use it I suppose.

I drove up last night with a co-worker who I'll call papa sweet grump. He's a nice older gentleman - recently a grandfather - pretty cool in just about every way, but he's a nay sayer - a trait he pulls off fairly well. He and I hit a Bennigan's on the way up (they still exist!) and made it to our hotel a little after nine pm. Thankfully PSG stepped away while I was checking in since the desk clerk asked if he had his own registration or if he was staying with me. I calmly stated he had his own, but I was surprised that it was a question. The picture the two of us pose is incongruous at best; thirty-year-old woman with spiked hair who reportedly looks like a complete lesbian and a mountainous white haired man in Dockers. What surprised me more: that he thought we were together or that he thought I was straight? I'm unsure. I suppose people make platonic shared hotel arrangements all the time and it was simply be a question.

I spent some time walking up and down Michigan after checking in. I heard a volley of When Johnny Comes Marching Home passed back and forth from street side sax players punching the march into a slurry yet punctuated jazz number. I walked quickly and saw the river. I ended up going to Borders and buying a book and a three-pack of Moleskine journals. I say yes to Moleskine. They make a quality product although the marketing turns me off just a hair. Buy this notebook because creative people did nearly a hundred years ago. But the paper, smart binding, and excellent size are exceptional. I know of no better pocket journal.

Today, PSG and I walked to our training facility from our hotel, mostly along Wacker, a street name which illicits the same response that I first had from it at ten. We ended up spitting distance from the Sears Tower, pictured at top. I like skyscrapers. People say they're phallic, and I did too until I heard the best counter to it from a good friend of mine. He says, yeah, but if you enter the skyscraper and look up it's like an enormous vagina. I'm down with that. The building our training is in is also a skyscraper, and for the first time I've been confronted with a restroom that's controlled by a five button keypad. This is on the fourth floor of the building. What kind of crowd control does one need? The restroom is also exceptionally grey. Since I was wearing my grey fleece jacket today I had to take pictures. Which now that I review them are kinda lame. Moving on.

So how did I end up with this bovine bounty in my tummy? The one good thing about traveling for the company is being able to treat oneself on someone else's dime. I like to eat that which I cannot in Nap-town. I asked the concierge what our best bet was for authentic Chicago cuisine and
he said without batting an eye it was the Chop House. It was within walking distance to our hotel which was a major selling point. I know you can get a great steak for that kind of money in any city with an international airport, but this place had style and panache and an incredibly intense bone in prime rib so popular it's the every night special. We were seated on the second floor in a window table overlooking Ontario. There were pictures of meat packers and "Builders of Chicago" on the wood paneled walls. After a wonderful filet with asparagus and hollandaise I made a point to go to the bathroom partially to take a look at the place and - I'm not gonna lie - a little bill dodging. I didn't want to deal with the expense report. When I arrived at the bathroom and entered a stall I was exposed to something unique - thank goodness. Nothing sexual - no. This was the strangest sanitary device I've ever encountered. I was so floored I took a picture. Let's take a look:

OK. My complimentary internet connectivity is acting funny and giving me fits. I'll have to be content describing this for now. I open the stall door and see a toilet seat covered in a plastic bag. The hinge is enormous and I'm thinking this is some sort of take on the paper seat covers. I'm not much for the hysterics of bathroom hygiene. An old school toilet seat just isn't the kind of place that can support bacteria, germs or whatever else has women hovering and pissing all over a perfectly good resting place. If I had open wounds on my ass cheeks that might be a different story, but as long as my butt remains lesion free I'm just not giving these concerns any cycles. The baggied toilet seat isn't just a simple cover. Oh no. The hinge that holds the seat to the commode is enormous, about four inches high, and it comes with a red button on the left and instructions. "Press once before use. Button resets after in 20 seconds." So, completely floored I push the button. This is what happened:

Now this is just about the craziest, nastiest, saddest thing I've seen in a bathroom. It's like those terribly unhygienic towel rolls one only sees at Illusions as reported by Fitness Nerd only for your ass! Really? For real? Is this what people want? For the first time ever I really didn't want to sit down. That plastic just looks flimsy and full of creases and crevices where nastiness could hide. Ugh.

That wraps it up for tonight (hah!) I'm going to roll quite literally into bed and get ready for day two of my whirlwind Chicago trip. I'll be heading back to Indy tomorrow during rush hour. We'll see how that goes.

slap shot and coffee

This weekend has been both sedate and rewarding. I'm the kind of person who doesn't clean unless company is coming. I mean, I keep the tumbleweeds from taking up residence, but it gets a little nesty in my family room from time to time. I like to walk in from work, kick off my shoes wherever I happen to be when I don't want to wear them further, plop down in the recliner, and eventually articles of clothing get removed and exchanged for pajamas. The result turns my small condo into an enormous dressing room. So when I had surprise company Friday I found myself motivated to get my clean on.

Humorously, I decided to invite more people over on Saturday when I knew I wouldn't have time to clean up. It was all a little awkward. I invited Reichy (formerly DeeDee) and a friend and her brother over to watch that classic 70s sports flick, Slap Shot starring Paul Newman and introducing the Hanson Brothers. Reichy asked me during our last practice how it is one actually commits a foul in hockey, and I could think of no better way to explain it other than Slap Shot. The -eh- film has a fairly high incidence of gay bashing, although I contend its overall attitude towards homosexuality is open and tolerant. In a way it boldly highlights certain homosexual issues, Lesbians After Marriage for instance. But it's crowded by a frenetic plot. No scene off the ice is longer than thirty seconds and there are plenty in short succession. According to wikipedia Gene Siskel says that it was his greatest regret as a critic to have given Slap Shot mediocre reviews. Apparently he enjoyed it much more after multiple viewings. I believe that has to do with how fast the movie moves. It's hard to follow. I wonder if the director was trying to mimic the pace of a hockey game.

So here I was with a filthy home inviting people over some of whom had never seen the place before to watch a movie that by most accounts isn't great on the first viewing. I felt slightly awkward, but really I could have spared myself. My guests were gracious, and took it all with good nature.

Today, I woke up with the cleaning bug. Sometimes I pop out of bed with a burning desire to jog, or go to the mall, or grab some brunch, but today it was all about cleaning. I like how the place feels now. It's incredible how much dust and cat hair can collect in certain nooks and crannies. Now I'm breathing a little easier in my super comfy home.

I went shopping for a list of household items at Bed Bath and Beyond: a coffee maker, sheets, light bulbs of various sizes and nothing met my specifications. B,B &B is leaving much to be desired these days. I did come home with a Mukka express cappuccino maker though for much less than what I'm seeing them on the web. It's a stove top espresso maker on steroids. It's larger than the average espresso maker. At the top of the "percolator" in the coffee carafe section there's an extra valve that is used to froth milk that you've added into the carafe section. It's actually rather clever. All you have to do is put water in the reservoir, coffee in the filter, milk in the carafe, set the valve, and put the whole assembly on the stove top et voila! Cappuccino. I've decided to try it out as my replacement for my daily coffee ritual. My trips to Starbucks have become more frequent, and I'm sick of spending time and money on a product that - while oh so tasty - gets to be an expensive drag in the morning. I've gone through and created cappuccino, latte and espresso as part of the initial throw away runs of the product. So far so good. I need to get real espresso roasted coffee beans though. Regular beans work, but the method begs for a bean with a bolder flavor. The only problem is going to be the additional maintenance required. I actually have to clean that valve out and rinse the pot rather than just let it stand in all its milky glory while I'm away at work.

Gambling

I had a busy weekend jam packed full of events. It was a little too cramped for my taste, and I've spent some time processing it. I rode the motorcycle down to Louisville for a Celebration event honoring the weekend work I and thirty other women did with Woman Within. I rode with a group of women who were headed for New Albany, specifically Cesar's Casino. Somehow they got rooms comped for the night and we were going to take advantage. We avoided the interstate, and the ride down was goregeous once we got south of Franklin. We eventually hit 135 and snaked through Nashville twisting through forests and winding around cornfields. Lots of beans and corn this year. For some reason the bean fields smelled like onion. Maybe there were onions out there, too. I had to break off from the group when we hit 60 so I could get to my event on time. I threw on my helmet, kicked it into 6th and peeled off towards I-65 at 100 mph.

I was feeling shakey and rushed when I arrived. I had to change; the shirt I had packed for the event somehow got ruined while in my bag and that really pissed me off. I wanted to look cool, and instead I was wearing a slick pair of grey trousers with a light pinstripe with a brown on beige striped t-shirt. Ugh. But I did it, and it was fine. I managed to get centered and get into the moment.

After the cermony I invited a woman to hang out with me and the group of women I rode down with to Connections. At least that was the idea. I got back late; most of the ladies were ready for a nightcap and bed. Lesbians are in bed by 11pm. Sheesh. That's when the party is just kicking off. I had never been to a casino before, and I was determined to spend some dough. The lady I invited, I'll call her Virginia, was definitely down for some gambling. She's primarily a slots gal which is the way to go odds-wise as far as best return on "investment". I personally find the slots dismal. I like holding on to the myth that I am somehow in control in a game of chance so it's no wonder that craps appealed the most to me.

I didn't have a good time gambling for two major reasons. The cheapest tables had 15 dollar minimums, and I was the only one I knew playing them. I started the evening with blackjack. Boom boom boom boom. Ninety seconds later and sixty dollars down I decided to end that train wreck. That's when I wandered over to the craps table. I had no idea what I was doing and only picked it up by watching for about 20 minutes so I was missing a lot of information. I actually won some dough playing craps, but really it was just enough to cover the losses incurred at the end of a run, and eventually - inevitably - the house got my money. I was only able to slow my roll with the craps table (hah!) and I really enjoyed throwing the dice. All in all I lost $140, and I experienced gambling, an activity of which I've had my fill. I felt like I was throwing my money away surrounded by fish-eyed slot zombies. At least in a strip bar I get to see naked people.

The next day I split off from the group again this time to get back to town to do some work. I took the long way back until I hit Nashville. Again, totally beautiful ride. Just enough clouds in the sky to make it pretty. In Nashville there was some bad accident where someone took out a transformer and the entire town was dark. No gas. So I ended up turning around and headed to Columbus. I burned up I-65 until I hit my exit home.

I took this trip thinking I could get my work done on Sunday whenever I wanted as long as it went well. Well, this upgrade I had to do - that was tested in our lab - didn't go well. In fact it broke things in a very bizarre way. After 8 hours of troubleshooting to get a good idea of what had happened I rolled it back. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to do, and my decision to make the change six hours after I said I would was called into question. Erp. I feel a little miffed about the whole thing. Yes, I didn't do something when I said I was going to do it, but that would not have mitigated the impact. Monday was rough.

Tonight, I'm playing a hockey scrimmage breaking a drought of over a year. I'm psyched to get back on the ice in earnest. Hockey is one of the most exhilirating sports I've ever played, and I could use a little good competition vibe.

Friday blah

I knew that Friday was going to end up lackluster. My dreams were incredible this morning, and I semi-consciously chose to sleep in rather than get up and get in to work. I was in the car about 5 minutes into my commute and stuck behind a chucklehead moving 20 miles per hour. I didn't want to stay stuck so I passed her on the right in a shoulder turn lane. Unfortunately, I executed this maneuver in a school zone in front of Officer Friendly. At least I had the presence of mind to throw on my seat belt when I saw him whip out of his hidey hole. That kept an additional 25 dollars off a ticket that already amounted to 150. Good morning.

After that I decided to go to Starbucks to get some coffee. Fuck being late. I wanted a latte.

Work wasn't too bad. I've been working on installing and learning this enormous software based network toolset, and it's been slow going. The documentation shows you what to do for very specific scenarios, not how the whole thing works. My boss rolled up to my cube wanting to see the beast in action, and I couldn't get it to work. I found another problem I had to open a support case on to solve.

All this in the back of my mind. I was meeting up with this young lady tonight who has me more or less captivated. I left work twenty minutes early, got home, ate some grub, and hopped on the bike to go check out the First Friday Art shows in Fountain Square. The ride over there was fun. I'd shaken off the slow downs from the ticket I received this morning and zipped along 65 South at a good clip. I even had a brief chase with some dude on a sport bike.

I found a motorcycle sized parking spot (which I always love to utilize) in front of Penumbria Gallery. There were some beautiful paintings there. I've only recently started to appreciate abstract pieces, but now I prefer them. I take in the painting and see how I respond. The showcased artist was Gwyneth Sutherlin. She had several pieces I enjoyed, but the one that gripped me was called "Depth". I don't think it was her strongest painting, but it definitely had the strongest affect on me.

I walked up and down Virginia Ave checking out the galleries. I eventually came to find out that Aganippe wasn't going to make it out. So I packed it in and went out for a ride. I sent out messages to a few people seeing what's doing. Not much was the response. So I eventually went home.

Now here's where I turn my blah into something incredible, dangerous, and quite possibly addictive. I wanted a bowl of cereal when I got home, but I was out of milk, and I wanted something junkier than Raisin Bran so I rolled out to the grocery store. As I was struggling between Choco Cap'n Crunch and Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch I turned my head and saw a beautiful sight there beyond the cereal aisle on the far wall: Trader's Point Creamery Chocolate Milk. My choice was made for me. I grabbed the PB Cap'n Crunch, the chocolate milk, and some skim which I normally drink and went on home. This combination is heavenly. I initially pulled off the plastic top and took a swig from the bottle, and my world was rocked. The chocolate and cream together are so rich it's almost overpowering. To use this with cereal is enough to stop hearts. It really is decadent.

So I'm glad I'm seeing the end of this particular Friday. It's rather pleasant now.

Filler Musing

I find it distracting and interesting that the three major topics covered by media - sports, business, and politics - are games with increasingly higher stakes.

Discuss
(Because I haven't gotten around to writing up a blog entry after my super weekend with the women).