Vegas

I might be mistaken, but I believe the last time I was at McCarran International Airport was following the Insight Bowl (an OSU victory over Notre Dame, no less).

The memories came flooding back as I walked past the bar where Raju and I decided to drink a few cold ones pre-flight. Raju, in all his glory, joined me in a yard-long Budweiser, afterwhich his already pronounced limp, slurred speech and crazy eyes were in full effect. How he got on the flight home, I'll never know.

Ah, the glory days.

You know what? I am mistaken. I think I've been here a few times since then. But I like the way this story goes.

Also:

T-Minus

I have a shit-ton of work to do tomorrow.

I should re-phrase: I need to do a shit-ton of work tomorrow in order to alleviate any stress from my four-day PacNW romp.

No problem.

My impending flight should make said work bearable, since I know that the light at the end of the tunnel is the dark, gloomy pseudo-sunlight of Oregon. Yes!

I'll be home the 24th-28th; ample opportunity to be with family, see some old chums, drink some good beer and explain 67 times why I moved to Florida, of all places. I'm really looking forward to all of it, and my mustache is ready for just about anything.

Find me.

Buy me a drink. Sing me a song. Take me as I come, 'cause I can't stay long.

Cold skull

I shaved my head yesterday.

No reason, really, but it felt good to shed a few ounces up top.

Anyway, I walk into the office today, and a couple folks drop the obligatory "nice haircut" or "hey, soldier" on me.

Then, my boss walks by, looks at up me and quips, "You don't have a thing for a young Jodie Foster, do you?"



Solid.