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.

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.”