Between editions

Mapping the Seventh Circle
As election week winds down, my head is starting to empty out. The caffine and adreneline that was needed earlier in the week to get stuff done now leaves a dull ache, and thoughts rattle around without congnitive relavance. Please no difficult questions at this time. The person in charge of filtering responses passed out two days ago. Co-workers are unaware of just how close to a all-out southern fried beat-down, verbally as well as physically, they walked these past few days. Well, enough of that, this is really just a post to keep this thing active.

Tool

Three-year-old tape recorder
Shocker here, work continues to vaccum the soul out of me. In other words, it still sucks. Came home and there was a fresh pile of toys blocking my son's door. Tired and not out of work mode I blurted out "dammit boy!" All of three seconds later, the boy follows me into his room, looks down at the mess and says "dammit bears!" Great, I feel like a total parental unit now.

And on the sixth day

Lookin' for that short week
Ah, overtime. It allows for the option later this week of taking the cash, or taking the comp time, either of which will come in handy as the wife and I head to Chicago. So, between editions of the paper, I sit here tapping away. Some sort of movement to keep the blog active.

i-suck ver. 2.0

Mapman wants to quit
Or, how a 2.5% increse in pay doesn't equal a 75% increase in labor.
The Mac I work on arrived at my job three months after I did, seven years ago.
Deadlines don't apply to those who would bust my nads if Iwere to miss one.
Cripes, not this again, also known by the acronym BOHICA shouldn't be my thoughts upon entering the work place.

Blah, just another crap day, time to suck it up and get on with it.

What does it all mean?

Fat, Lazy, and Stupid
It is Sunday night, about to turn into early Monday morning. Too much to do, and I am dinking with this thing. I don't really have anything of importance to say and my typing is really stinkig it up tonight. There are only about three hundred and seventy four other things that I should be doing now, so I think I will at least try to numb myself into a semi-vegitative state in front of the television, instead of doing this guilt trip thing.

Slacking off

i-suck
Perhaps one of them there fancy-schmantz robots from the newest Will Smith movie could be a bit more diligent in posting here. But as I assume that I am the only person on the planet inhabiting this void, ah, who cares.
Running man
I am trying my best these past few days to get in the habit of using the potential huge-a** $700 paperweight that we have put in the middle of our living room. So far I can manage to pace out 2 miles in 30 minutes with some jogging, mostly brisk walking.

It was a thing of beauty

A marvel to behold
And somehow I up and fool lost it. Actually it was another too long rant about my crap mindset of late. Trying this post thing from a nother computer at work and --- blip --- 'twas gone.

Meandering towards unemployment

Updates are overrated
There have been days of late where I wanted to chuck my hands in the air and cry out "Them dirty bastiches win again!" The thought of grinding through the summer without an extended vacation from work has me a bit twitchy. Co-workers nervously grin when you say "and that's why they won't let me own a gun," randomly.
Idjits, theys all a bunch a idjits
Bosses tend not to like it too much when you ask if they are on crack in front of other employees. We all wonder about it quite often, but ask aloud and its your ass sonny. As I get older the "you just imagine them naked" ploy gets even more horrific each time.

A mini boom

Can you say class action?
Well hell, The latest count has five people at my job, two of my friends and one of my wife's all expecting kids in December or January. My best guess is that there had to be a severe shortage of anything to watch on tv, so lets sue 'em. My wife goes for her first doctors visit tomorrow. They should peg a due date for the new arrival at that time.

Learning curves

Naked and alone
There really are things that a grown man should not spend too much time being.
I remember now
They say that the queasiness associated with pregnancy diminishes in most by the 12th week. I sure hope so, my stomach is wrecked. My wife seems to be doing much better this time around. During her first pregnancy, we were living in an apartment. A family down the hall from us would on occasion cook something that I would imagine called for a small truck-load of onions, garlic and a healthy dose of what a college friend of mine refers to as "outlaw Pakistani spices". The whole building would be engulfed in a invisible cloud of funk for the two days as the meal festered in early summer heat. Usually the smell would fade just in time for the next batch to be stirred off. To this day if I so mush as have anything that has even the slightest amount of hummus on it, she won't let me in the same room with her. Three days without a shower and I can cuddle on up, yet if I nosh on a gyro, I'm banished to the couch.
Trying times ahead
I'm not talking about the pregnancy thing here. Actually this is where I go geek. Being new to the world of blogs I am sure that I will find many new and exciting ways to foul this thing up. I would like it more if the templates were more consistent with older browsers. I usually surf with IE5 on a Mac under OS 9. This is both at home and work. Yes, my work computer is that old. I have found that Netscape 7 does a decent job showing the pages but the editor is a bit clunkier. Anyway, please, a bit of patience as I get to working here. Although I would imagine I will probably be the only one mucking about in this dark little corner of the Net for quite some time.

Starting something

I was thinking about getting a dog.
A boxer perhaps. I would prefer a breed that had some real distinctive dog-like qualities. No Fifis, Ladys or some other nice-nice sounding frou-frou dogs need apply. I'm talking about a Spike from the cartoons kind of macho dog. I was tossing around the name Balthus. It's a artist's name, but has that chest-huffing sound to it. I imagine you could grunt, growl out the name Balthus then spit all macho-like in one combined motion.
On the fence
We were planning on putting up a fence this year. Mostly to contain the three-year-old, blonde headed boy that allows us to live at his house. A six-foot treated wood number should suffice to keep our neighbors from feeling overwhelmed with envy at the harmonious balance of areas of grass and those of things-not-grass that is our lawn.
A weight on my chest
My wife was in tears. I was semi-spawled on the couch enjoying a brief rest from the forementioned toddler playing with plastic super-hero figures on my head when she appeared. My first line of reason, "What have I done now?" After a quick mental check I was pretty sure that some dirty dishes and a load of clean but not yet folded laundry was not the cause of her discomfort. She was way beyond discomfort. Perhaps she had broken a toe on one of the dumbbells I had recently purchased. The fact that she had not dropped said dumbbell on my chest , but a small plastic stick-like thing ruled that type of injury out. On the plastic thing were two windows, each having a vertical line through them. Looking at the handy key located on the handle, I looked up at my wife and now knew why she was in tears. We are going to have another child.