sweet home flood data

Last night we skipped out a few minutes early to go to the bar near work for a couple drinks before closing. The only bad thing about Monday is that it's amatuer singing night, and there are generally all kinds of freaky people. Including the chef who sings Pearl Jam, who isn't bad really. But one guy sang "Sweet Home Alabama," and Richard used his talents to insert 'map analyst' and 'PLS' into the song. So before I forget I must write the new lyrics down. It won't be nearly as funny to people who don't slave over maps, but hell. There was another version about Bradshaw and stuff, but I can't remember right now. We really should work up the whole thing, and embarass everyone to death at the company Christmas party or something.

"Need a plat for Alabama
PLS just wouldn't do
I'm just a poor map analyst
Does my scaling bother you, tell the truth

Sweet Home Flood Data
Where the folks are so blue"

My hips are bruised a bit, as Alan and I spend far too much time pretending we can still do cool moves. We need some fencing gear, I think. He's got the reach advantage but I still manage to catch him off guard now and then. We actually left the apartment around 2 to run various errands, instead of spending the entire afternoon lazing around on the floor smoking and talking. Still have not decided on my new feat for my sorceror, and I really just need to break down and buy the bloody damned 3rd Edition book. Lazy lazy me.

Short week, thank heavens. Three day weekend. Kinda hoping I'll find my way to a party because I feel like being social and witty for a change, and maybe we'll even get to play some more D&D this weekend too.

Satisfied my random urge for a hamburger after taking a very long and rambling way home this afternoon. Don't want to get up at all now.

would you like some ethics with that?

According to that mad LJ name meme, I should be a serial killer, I'm cool & calm, it's whenever whatever whoever, I'm likely to win the respect of my collegaues my personality is Rainy Day, in a word I'm subtle, and my magic number is 16. Sweet. Must stop snickering now.

In other humorous news,that atrocious bit of fic I saw recently now has a sequel. Behold, we give you Searching, in which our newly redeemed Dark Wizard has a lovely heartfelt moment with his little dragon. (And really it would be better if that statement was meant to be an obscene reference. Crikey.)

They did not put a cherry in my cherry limeade. Hiss.

Hello my scary sci-fi future. Quite frankly the idea of using aborted fetuses as egg farms is bloody appalling to me. The more I consider this idea, the more disturbed I am. I'd like to know who the hell thought this was a good idea in the first place.

I should go to work now. But I do want to sit here for a moment and hope against hope that Israel and Palestine might actually get something right here. I have no real hope for that situation and that conflict, but gods above, it would be nice. I read once about a summer program where groups of Israeli and Palestinian kids are all sent off to some camp in New York state or some such thing, and spend copious amounts of time doing things together and realizing they are all essentially the same, that they are all human. It was on 60 Minutes, and I remember crying while watching it because it seemed so futile and sad, the whole damned part of the world.

Off to see the wizard, off to see the wizard.