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Hooray for the weekend.

As I was headed out to my car to leave--I was parked next to a shipping container--I stumbled over Batman and the Joker smoking cigarettes together behind the container. It's little moments like that that just make your day. -- ursulav

hcolleen inquires what I am still doing up. It is a weekend.
"Your sleep schedule is fucked," she informs me.
"My sleep schedule depends on 26 hour days," I let her know.
She pauses, thinks. "We don't have those," she decides.
"I WANT AN UPGRADE!" I ask in the most reasonable tone of voice.
"Not available!" she says smugly.
"I NEED A MANAGER!" I inquire.
"No manager."
"WHO PAYS YOU?!"
"Who said I got paid?"

Called Darkside. Someone else is up too late. We're both going to bed. He stayed up until 4am gaming.

I love it when customers' domains redirect (voluntarily!) to things that get blocked by WebSense as being illegal or shady.

Upcoming: something about Twitter vs. IRC, and how they're filling some of the same needs in different ways.

Flight #2 is booked. So is the hotel room. Advised best friend that vacation was imminent. Had to remind him of when his 10-year high school reunion was, in relative terms to mine, which I am skipping. (Though I am getting homesick for Alaska. The area code is starting to make me mist up again.)

A customer's website had a warning page. A much-needed one, as the activities described in relation to the e-book being peddled there went from vanilla, to interesting, to sketchy, to way beyond safe-sane-and-consensual. I phrased it like that, and the eyebrows of the New Girl went up. I could feel a conversational thread hanging. She casually mentioned (at least an hour later) that she had a card to give me. "Related to ... ?" "Yeah." "Thought so." Hooray coded verbal flags.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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