The true end

I got a call today from my ex’s fiance. I wasn’t really sure what he wanted and he was hesitant to tell me. I finally told him to just go ahead and say it…and he did.

“Please stop calling J. She’s going to be my wife and she’s not yours any longer. I asked her to handle this but obviously she didn’t. This isn’t personal because I don’t know you very well. But I don’t want you contacting her anymore.”

I said, “Sure, fine. Whatever you want.” and we hung up.

I don’t know how to feel about this…yes, I know she’s not my wife nor would we ever get back together, but we’d remained friends the entire time and now it’s completely over. Sure, part of me is sad about it…I’ve known her for 15 years. The other part wishes her good luck, although I hope this guy isn’t the controlling dickhead that he appears to be. I guess this also means that the dogs are 100% mine, which is fine with me.

I’m just confused by the whole thing, Dear Reader. I guess you really can’t be friends with an ex.

Treydar&#0153 Weather Alert

While driving home I noticed huge black clouds in the distance and figured I should check the Treydar&#0153 when I got home. It looked like it might get ugly in a little while.

As usual, Treydar&#0153 was right on the money…

LASIK

Well, Dear Reader, I go for my consulation August 9th and if everything goes according to plan, I will have LASIK surgery on August 11th. The surgeon was recommended by some other eye surgeons for whom I do some side work. They don’t do this surgery or I would certainly be using them.

I’ll admit to being a bit nervous about it. This’ll only be the second surgery I’ve ever had. I’ve read up on the different procedures, costs, benefits, side effects, and risks. There are risks associated with everything, but honestly Dear Reader, I’m sick of glasses and contacts. I’d like to wake up one morning and actually see the things around me without my glasses. I’d like to be able to get some cool shades or swim with my eyes open underwater. I’ve worn glasses/contacts for so long I don’t remember what it’s like to not have them.

Yes, I understand that I might need reading glasses, but I’d gladly wear them if that’s the only time I’d need them. Hey!?! Maybe I can even get one of those cool chains to hold them like my Bubbie used to wear. Now that would be stylin’.

Quickie

Back from Philly. We recovered 85 to 90 percent of our stuff and were well on our way to completing the rest of it when they shut us down. Ah well…I didn’t think we’d get that far considering how poorly we started. To be honest, this was really more of a test than our normal tests. In a ‘true’ disaster, shit happens and you have to be able to react, which is what we did. The nice thing is that our AVP noticed and commented which is very rare.

For my New York friends/readers, I never even got close to the City, which sucked because I did want to meet several of you. And the drinks were on me. 🙂

Got home about 4:30, doing some laundry, eating, and then going to bed. I am worn out…but in a good way.

Sing it to me, Sam!

I’ve been here 14 hours today and am starting to get punchy. We’re all pretty tired actually. I’ve started making up lyrics to Sam Cooke’s “Another Saturday Night”. Sam wouldn’t appreciate me inserting “mothefu*” into his song, though…even if it does fit. 🙂

A disaster in progress

Yeah, so, uh, this could be going smoother.

We had to redo some backup tapes and have them shipped…instead of using FedEx, “Management” decided to use Delta Dash…the tapes are somewhere in Atlanta.

A combination of our software and their hardware caused the CD-ROM drives to shit on themselves whenever we tried to do an install. The odds of this happening are probably one-in-ten thousand…maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket.

The project manager for the disaster recovery vendor said that there’s a stripper who dances in her windows at night right across from our lab…He is full of shit…uh…at least that’s what the other guys said.

If you’re in Philly, get the New York Strip at Maggiano’s Little Italy instead of the steaks at Capital Grille…much tastier and much less expensive.

More later, Dear Reader…I smell donuts.

Oops! Sorry, lady.

If you walk into the bathroom and the first thing you hear inside your head is, “Hey, where the hell is the urinal?” the next thing you hear outside your head is, “That’s the ladies room, dumbass.”

It’s always sunny in…

Philadelphia! Greetings from Philly, Dear Reader. It’s about midnight Eastern time and I can’t sleep…well, I mean, I could sleep and was asleep, but not now. I went to bed at 9pm Eastern because I’d been up since 3am Central. And now I’m up at midnight…figured I’d write to see if I can go back to sleep.

I’m in town for our annual disaster recovery exercise where we pretend that our office is no longer operational and we have to bring it back to life somewhere else. This year, it’s Philadelphia. We’re staying right across the street from City Hall so we’re really close to lots of stuff, but I’m not sure how much we’re going to be able to see. If all goes well, we’ll have a decent amount of free time, if not…well, I’m not going to say it because I don’t want to jinx it.

After getting something to eat, we headed back to the hotel. Several of the guys were headed towards the historic district which is about 8 blocks from here. I didn’t really feel like walking so I passed. After about 2 minutes of staring at the walls, I changed clothes, headed to the hotel’s fitness center, found an empty treadmill and, uh…walked.

We had dinner this evening at the Capital Grille and it was awesome. Most of the guys ordered the 24oz porterhouse, but, and I’m amazed that I’m saying this, it was too much for me. I just didn’t want to waddle away from the table, filled to the gills with meat, so I got the 14oz filet instead…medium rare. Oh man, it was gooooood. Truly a great steak.

Afterwards, a buddy and I wandered to Tower Records. I’d never been before and wanted to check it out. Several people I know have bragged on the place. Uh, it’s just a big record store…with overpriced CDs. $18.99 for Don Henley’s Greatest Hits? Um. No.

Wandered back across the street, wandered into Borders, and heard a reading by John Grogan, author of Marley & Me. Couldn’t really here him very well…lots of people, bad microphone. Didn’t stay long because, by this time, my happy ass was whipped. Wandered back to the hotel, grabbed my book and made it about 3 pages before I was asleep. Woke up at midnight and here we are.

UPDATE: The original closing paragraph to this post was lamenting the fact that I had no one to call when I landed. Um…I was reminded this afternoon that someone did in fact check to see that I arrived safely. Then I remembered that I got email from a few others who also checked on me. So…this new paragraph is an apology to all of you. Turns out that I do have folks checking on me and I appreciate it very much. Howard

G’night.

Lemmings

There’s a note on our Coke machine that lists the names and dollar amounts of people who’ve lost money trying to get a Coke. Everyone on our side of the floor knows the machine sucks, yet there are 5 names on that list. One for each day of the week last week.

Jail Break

I’m driving down my street Monday after work and notice a dog in front of my house that looks suspiciously like Trey. I then notice another dog behind him and think that one looks exactly like Fancy. Before I can process this information, they spot me and go hopping ass up the street.

Shit. Slam on the breaks, throw the car in neutral, grab the emergency brake and door handle and leap out. I’m yelling for the dogs and they’re ignoring me. Maybe yelling, “GET YOUR THREE-LEGGED ASSES BACK HERE NOW!” is not the best way to coax a dog back home.

I finally run up the street after them. The cross street to my neighborhood is really busy and I was afraid they’d get out into traffic. I’m able to get them turned around and headed for the house. The run right past me, smiling of course, and head into the back yard like nothing is wrong. Seems the gate was opened somehow. No, they couldn’t have done it…it’s a son-of-a-bitch to open with two hands, let alone one paw.

First thing I did was put the lock back on the gate and hide the key from those two. They’re smarter than they look. They’re pretty tight lipped about the whole incident. No matter how many times I ask, “How in the hell did you get out?”, neither one is saying a thing. Sneaky little bastards.