Random's Manifest - Thursday Thoughts

Time for RAAANNNNDDDOOOOM TTTTHHHOOOUUUGGGHTTSS!!!

Must keep short.  But, still awesome.

The Story of the Boss-Men


I've started referring to my bosses in the past couple of days, because they were both in town and we had a shit-ton of stuff to do.  Chicken (read her blog - it's awesome!  But, don't go liking it more than mine, thereby crushing my already fragile ego...) asked (1) who the hell Boss-Man Jr. is, and (2) if there was something else besides work going on there.  Short answer: (1) My boss; (2) NOOOOO.

Let me explain.  Boss-Man Jr. is my direct boss.  He's my age though, and I consider us to be friends as well.  This is in part because, as you might recall, he is the nicest person on the planet (see I'm So Tired Part Deux-Part Deux), and also in part because we get stuck working together for hours and hours and days and days on end, so if we didn't get along, life would be very difficult.  So, when we have a social networking/client event, sometimes we go together.  We also eat meals together when the other is in town, since neither of us know anyone in each other's respective city, and because we are always working ungodly hours and eating at weird times.

Boss-Man Sr. is also my boss.  I answer directly to him, but he is Boss-Man Jr.'s boss as well.  So, sometimes Boss-Man Jr. is a conduit for Sr.'s demands, and sometimes they come straight from Sr.'s mouth.  Hence the Jr./Sr. distinction.  No hanky-panky.  No funny business.  Just work.  But, they're both pretty cool guys.  I hate many aspects of my job, but neither of them fall on "My List".  We are heading into a very busy stretch, so you will likely hear more about them in weeks to come.

No!  Not Xander!

I was devastated to learn that Buffy the Vampire Slayer's beloved Xander Harris (Nicholas Brendon, in real life) was arrested on a felony vandalism charge the other day.  Cops were called out on reports of a drunk & disorderly vandal, and they arrived to find Xander doing something naughty.  As he was inebriated, he made the ever-wise decision to take an unsuccessful swing at one of the men in blue, and then attempt escape.  Result?  Two shots with the taser and an arrest.  And $20,000 bail.  I guess years of Buffy-licious rejection finally took their toll on poor Xander.  Maybe some electro-shock - taser style - and a night in the clink will straighten his drunk ass out...  

My Mind is MESSED UP

During times of high stress, like now, I have a tendency to develop insomnia.  When I am lucky enough to actually sleep, I will have the CRAZIEST of dreams.  Point in case - last night.  Here is the synopsis I sent to a friend of a dream I had about him (another ex who is married, with a kid.  We make much better friends than we did a couple, and haven't dated in 9 years.).  Names have been omitted: 

I had a very weird/not so good dream about you last night, but it didn't make sense.  We were sneaking around together.  [Your wife]'s name was Sarah, and she looked like Sarah Silverman.  You made out with my sister.  [My niece] threw up in a Wendy's parking lot.  My dad and the kids were there.  We were all staying in your house.  There were big pictures of you everywhere - and you were a baseball umpire (note - he is an IT guy in real life.  I don't think he's ever even played baseball...).  [Your 2 year-old daughter] wasn't there.  I was so mad at you for making out with [my sister].  And Sarah was so mad because she found out about us AND about you and [my sister].  I ate some cherry danish that was in the freezer.

All I have to say to this is: WTF??????    

Can I expense that? 

I had the tension migraine from hell yesterday, so I snuck out to hit up the chiropractor/acupuncturist yesterday afternoon.  After a moderately successful attempt at realigning my crooked spine, the doc informed me that I should be getting massages as much as possible - at least every other week.  This is apparently especially crucial during tax season, as I spend roughly 15 hours/day hunched over my desk, working on a laptop.  Massage therapy is hella-expensive, and isn't covered by insurance (even though it should be).  So, my question becomes - can I expense that?  Since it's my miserable job's fault that I can't turn my head to the left or see clearly for the blinding pain in my right eye, I think they should pay to fix me.  Don't you agree?

Google Me This

Favorite Google Search of the week that landed someone on my site: "Heel Stuck"  That confused searcher was directed to I'm So Tired - Part Deux, and my charming anecdote about how the heel of my Alfani pump came to know an Uptown sidewalk grate.  Not sure what that person might have been looking for, but anything that draws readers is fine by me! 

Alrighty, well - another Thursday marches on.  Until tomorrow!