You know, it's pretty late, and I'm kind of tired, but I've also been energized by my second fantastic conversation with my friend Jenny in the last less-than two weeks, and I figure I might as well get one of these before the effect wears off. After all, I've written but once this month, and we're halfway through, and at least five days at the end of the month are certainly kicked in terms of posting possibilities (I'd imagine, the 22nd through 26th - travel days, or back in the 'burbs), so let's just sail on, sailor, and get one of these done.

Probably the highlight, and I'm not kidding, since my last post came this past Thursday morning at work. [So, for reference, that's Thursday the 7th. This is completely boring, by the way, but also completely hilarious.] So anyway, at our weekly department staff meeting the day before, my supervisor had mentioned that he wanted more specific notes on our clients every Friday morning. Numbers, and strategies, and things of that nature.

I sit in the same general area as said supervisor, who is really just a fantastic dude, I think. Middle aged-ish, and a dad of college graduates, and he likes Wolfmother and he used to be a ski instructor. So that's my supervisor.

And he turns to myself and my ... podmate ... and the following occurs.

Supervisor: "Hey. You know that report I was talking about yesterday?"
Podmate: "Yeah?"
Me: "Yeah?"
S: "You know what we're calling it?"
M: "What's that?"
S: "I'd like you to call it your Target. Performance. Summary. Report."
M: [instantaneous belly laughter]
P: [almost-instantaneous belly laughter]
S: [reactive belly laughter]
M: [belly laughter turning into complete guffaws]
P: [belly laughter turns into slight hyperventilation, but with a smile so we know she's still healthy]
S: [knowing smile.] [thought bubble: "Oh, those effin' kids."]
All: [Lose smiles. Return to work.]

Was that hilarious or what?

Dude, if you have to ask, you'll never know.

- - - - - - - - -

That was a bright, bright spot in a rough, rough week, which explains the lack of posting. I was sick. Quite sick. Hacking cough started on Monday of last week. It followed a sore throat that revealed itself the previous evening during conversation with the parents. The nose, it was a-drippin'. As someone who hates blowing his nose more than anything in the world (I mean, I just think it's disgusting, and I have to do it in private), I had several trips to the restroom and several full, full tissues.

After a miserable Monday, followed by a 2 1/2 hour post-work nap and a full night's sleep, I was miserable Tuesday. Post-work on Tuesday, I lamented, and I bought drugs. Sweet, sweet, wonderful drugs. The best part, besides the fact that, over time, the crap actually worked, is that it's fun to take. Have fun, and get better!. It truly was pretty badass, though I wasn't truly recovered until this past weekend.

All told, I probably napped a total of 10 hours after work Monday through Thursday. The roughness was exacerbated by the fact that I do work in the coldest office in the world, and the fact that I was absolutely miserable due to some frustrating client dealings. Also, the fact that we were blanketed in snow - driving was treacherous at least two days last week, and we were on ice just about all of them.

But, gosh, work is boring to write about.

And, not to worry, all those frustrating client dealings have shifted for the better in two days of work this week. After leaving stressed and sick five straight nights last week, I've left happy and healthy for two in a row. But I may have just jinxed it. Also, we've been snow-less; it seems to be melting after a few days in a row of rain and 40ish-degree temps. To be honest, I could get used to this, though I shouldn't expect to.

- - - - - -

Let's talk about ridiculous sideburns maintenance. It's difficult.

I'd estimate that, when I first shaped the chops two months ago (two months ago!), they extended approximately two inches from jawbone towards mouth. (That is, vertically down from the ear, right angle at the jawbone. A curved 'inner' portion allows each individual chop to come to a point some distance from the side of the mouth.)

Well, I've got no facial hair trimmer, nor do I want one. (Seriously, Santa, there's no need. Stay away on that one.) But with my work environment being what it is (casual), and with the sheer force of my engaging personality clearly doing enough to convince the ladies to ignore my failings in appearance, I often find myself not shaving for three or four days at a time.

Well, by that fourth day, more facial hair has emerged towards the tip of the chops, and it's muddled up the end point. And what do you do in that situation? You certainly don't want to make the chops smaller, so you inadvertently lengthen them, just a bit. And this keeps on happening, and happening, and happening.

So let's say that you (me) have repeated this process for two months. Well, the end result is chops that actually end below the mouth, with no more than inch-and-a-half between endpoints. Illness had precluded me from shaving for the full week, and there was just no real end to shave to. So I didn't choose an end.

And, basically, my chin is all that separates the two chops at this point.

An older, very funny gentlemen in the office commented that I was definitely going for "the Martin Van Buren" look, though, clearly, I'm going for better (far, far worse, considering the times and ready availability of easy-to-use facial hair maintenance products) than that.

- - - - - - - - -

I'll be honest, I'm really, really looking forward to our office party on Saturday night. No Yankee swap, so I won't get an iPod out of it. I also won't get an oven mitt out of it.

But there will be lots and lots and lots of booze served. I know that I'll probably make an ass out of myself, because that's kind of how I operate. My goal is simply to not be the first one to make an ass out of himself, because everyone always (vaguely) remembers the first one with the lampshade on his hat. After that, party's on, and nobody cares. Or so I'm hoping.

I'm also hoping that nobody sends me a dry cleaning bill. Huh?

- - - - - - - - -

Had a great chance last weekend (that is, with all the snow on the ground) to hit The Ring Fingernail with my podmate (a local) and some of her friends and another coworker who started the same day as me, though in a different department.

He was fascinating. A non-drinker. A non-TV-owner, though mostly financial, it seems. More interestingly, a beatmaker. An MC. Gospel Rap. No joke.

He brought in his CD for me early last week. I finally got through most of it tonight. Shit was bumpin', and I got to throw my hands up for The King. Not Ali. Not Martin. Not Ralph. Not George. Just The King. It was pretty badass, when it comes right down to it.