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Feb 21, 2006 22:10

Today. Was. Very. Busy.

I feel like I'm a test pilot who just took his flak jacket off. Here's the story: Everyone knows the horror stories of cell phone customer service. Well, I lived the nightmare. And let me tell you, it was hell. But! I am proud to announce that I emerge unscathed and $110 not-poorer, so... hooray-a-for-me. Also, on the way home, I found a lifetime supply of fishsticks, but I'll write about that next time I post.

So life in the 'pen continues... Intel work is busy, but good, and I also got to talk to Tim tonight. He (and everyone else) is doing well, I am happy to report. I really am not looking forward to going back to school. As it stands, the most strenuous thing I have to worry about is: "OH my goodness, I really should post to my LiveJournal... nah, later."

Yea, stress. It really gets to you!

But anyway, I've also been eagerly awaiting (as in pressing Apple+R every 4.73 seconds on the order status page) the arrival, shipment, sign of life, of my new MacBook Pro. It is going to be so cool!

I'm still in the process of selecting a name... TCS Victory is at the top of the list, but I can't fathom finally giving out that name. I mean, it's always been the holy grail of names for so long. Maybe I should just jump over that one and name it the TCS Midway, then come back to Victory when I'm really sure. But then again... that would ruin my whole temporal continuity thing that I've got going on. Just rearrrange the alphabet, why don't you?

Went swimming today, which was nice. That's to say - I got in the water and swam about 600 yards. Ugh. That certainly is NOT very far. I figure I also did some weightlifting and some abs... 300 with my mom, which is very good for her. As long as I can work it up to a good 3000, 3 times a week, I'll be okay... at least for feel-of-the-water and fitness 'til next season.

Then, of course, (well, okay, not of course) I had a chicken tender sub... and the guy at the Publix on Rosewood remembered my name after like over a year (year.5, actually) of not having seen me. Wow! Well, I remembered his name and all... but there's only one of him, and lots of me... customers that is.

And, then, in other (better, more wonderful, amazingly great) news, I told everyone about my going up to Greenville to see Margaret at her Winter Formal. I had a great time, and the only sad thing was leaving slightly early... darn my vision+not driving. Funny thing was, this... fella... in my cube says the moment I start to mention the dance "with that girl that's too young for you?"

HOW THE HELL DOES CREEPY DEAN KNOW HOW OLD MARGARET IS?!

Kah-ree-pee.

But that all worked itself out. Matt and Bill and I went to Subway for lunch... I don't think I've told Margaret about Bill. I must do that (well, she, you, will ask about it the moment you read this if I haven't mentioned it already). By the way, he's one of the recent full-time hires at Intel, like Dean. So... two interns and a RCG! It's like a story of a mismatched trio!

Moving on from the Intel scene (which, by the way is reasonably hard to do considering that without Margaret it town, that pretty much consumes most of my time+energy), Margaret and I are doing absolutely wonderfully... as I'm sure anyone who regularly reads her ell-jay can tell. I'm counting down the days until she comes home for spring break, summer, etc.

The time I spend with her, to anyone who doesn't know, is the best of my life.

Which, coincidentally, brings be to another quite fully story of the day. I was in the car with my mother (yes, Margaret, I've already told you this one) and I call Margaret because she says she's going to go to some of her schools' seniors' recitals. Well, so she gets ready to leave and says, as is customary, "I love you." Well, I'm in the car with my mother... and I love Margaret dearly, and I love my mother dearly but ACK I am still uncomfortable saying "I love you" in front of my mother. So, I say "I love you" really fast (unintentionally, I swear) hang up shortly thereafter and scream to my mom: "I AM STILL REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE saying 'I love you' to Margaret with you around." And, of course, she uses this as an appropriate time to launch into a motherly tangent of how "oh, it gets easier the more you do it," and "it gets better as time goes on" and "only say it if you mean it."

Well, you know what? (I did say this to her, by the way) I absolutely mean it, si señora, I love Margaret with all my heart... and... phew. So, yea, again I will assert that I am now comfortable to say "I love you" around my mom... but only time will tell.

Just to reiterate one more time: Margaret, I love you. Forgive me for being male and bashful-in-front-of-parents.

But yea, to all you externals, it is always pretty funny when I say "I love you" to Margaret in the 'pen, because the HR-lady from across the wall usually goes "*smacks tongue*aww" very quietly (I really don't think she means to, she just thinks it's so sweet). And Dean, I can tell, just rolls his eyes.

Announcement to the world: I love Margaret!

Okay, anyway, off to other less-green, but equally deserving of attention pastures...

My parents keep my house at an insanely cold temperature. Now, for the most part, I don't realize this. Oh, wait, necessary detail I left out: My parents keep the house insanely cold from 10 AM 'til 4 PM. because they're not home. (My dad says Betty, our housekeeper should generate her own heat from working. Cruel!) Well, so I had Presidents' day off (President's?) and, man, I felt the brunt of the Noreaster. Man, I got so cold that I sat on the marble table-top and put my feet into the sink filled with hot water! It was awful. I felt like Bugs Bunny... but I can't quite explain why.

Yea, so I pulled my feel out, scurried upstairs, and put socks on... it was pretty funny.

I'm almost running out of things to talk about.

Yea, I think I have run out of things to talk about.

Margaret, you're wonderful.

17 days until spring break.

Let me know if I missed something... I'll try to fix it. Luck will have it that I will neglect this thing for another few months, so I figured I should stuff as much in as possible.

PS: Unless, of course, Margaret asks me to post. In which case, I do as told.

"That boy is WHIPPED!"

Maybe...
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