Wrenches and top hats

Want to see the difference between liberals and conservatives? I have been eating lunch with Slazak for years now. Someone joined us yesterday, and when asked by a passer-by why we were breaking years of tradition by allowing a third at our table, Matt replied "we're taking in orphans" and I said "we're recruiting".

To All

Frag for Cancer

I think I may have convinced my workplace to hold an employee Halo 2 tournament as a fundraiser today. As you may remember, I've been trying to get a game going on one of the big-big screens for a while now. Only recently has the concept of making a real event out of it come about. With any luck, Microsoft or Bungie will hook us up with some prizes. It doesn't matter either way, though -- the title of King Geek should be enough motivation to get attendance. Further updates as events warrant.

The Most Wonderful Time

There's a turkey on my kitchen floor. It will be there all week.

Tomorrow I'm giving chocolates to the woman I drew in Secret Santa. When asked for gift ideas, she suggested world peace exclamation point.

If pushed, I would describe the general tenor of all recent phone conversations as 'strained' at best.

It is definitely too late for me to get gifts to my brothers in time for Sunday, even if I was sure of their current addresses. Every day this week I will check the mail with apprehension, hoping that neither of them got me anything. I'm fairly certain I can count on them for this.

I wish I could put my finger on how to spread tidings of comfort / joy to my coworkers without looking like either a conserva-fascist who refuses to bend with the times or a media-brainwashed wuss who's too afraid to call the day off what it really is.

Despite itself, I do genuinely enjoy Christmas.

Screw you hippie!

Almost got run over by some jerk leaving the Lexington Co-op parking lot. And they say weed doesn't make you stupid.

Let's Get Together

I went to a seminar today in which, among other things, the trainer stated that Generation-X'ers don't like to work in groups because we're all latch-key children who came home to empty houses and played Nintendo. As the only representative of the under-40 crowd in attendance, I decided to hold my tongue. My thoughts on the root causes of the apathy and indolence of Gen-X aside, I have to confess that I was baffled by the Nintendo being cited as an anti-socializer. I don't remember ever playing videogames by myself as a kid. I remember my brothers watching me crawl my way through Final Fantasy, my father spending entire weekends burning every tree and bombing every rock in The Legend of Zelda as we logged his progress, my friends and I mastering the intricacies of Pro Wrestling and RC Pro Am. For my sixteenth birthday my parents bought me a 12-inch TV for my bedroom, so my brothers just watched my run through Lifeforce there instead.

Lies! Lies I say!

Elmer Season!

There are men in the hills here, men with guns. Along the highways, pickup trucks bedecked with yellow-ribbon magnets have been left like rusty snake-skins as their owners prowl the snowy forests for the unlucky bucks who will secure their places at the Men's Table at all social events until next year. I'm hoping the dim, orange light of a cigarette in no way resembles moonlight in a deer's eye.

The King is Dead

The blogs giveth and the blogs taketh away. With the temporary sabbatical (is that an oxymoron?) of Royal Toybox, the web world has offered up Dad May Have Been Right. Get over there, you content-hungry freak.

Brilliant!

I was sick a couple days ago. As the day wore on, the question of whether I was feeling well enough to go to the bar came up. Fully aware that Her Worship's sanity's edges were starting to fray a bit from seeing no one for five days other that Yours Truly and a reportedly handsome plumber, I felt the risk/benefit analysis tipping toward a night out. Still I waffled, knowing that I should stay home and watch bad TV under a blanket. Eventually, a very old marketing campaign found its way to the front of my consciousness: Guinness is good for you!

Several hours and two pints of the black stuff later, I was right as the mail. Obviously, the only conclusion possible is that the adage, first revealed to me in 1986 on a postcard sent to my grandmother which now hangs on my refrigerator, is indeed true.

Follow-up

If the last post wasn't cloudy enough, check this out.