i'd rather be drinking
The siren song of the Highlander calls to me.
I'm still at work. This time because the big project has failed again due to outside forces. Somebody decided that Friday afternoon was the best time to run maintenance on the servers that support all member login for us, CNN, and NASCAR without bothering to inform the rest of the company. I'm holding on until they can deliver a page we can throw up in front of our stuff that says "come back later."
What little sleep I've gotten lately has dredged up some really strange notes from my subconcious. Last night it was a naked, skinny woman you kept trying to wedge her thumbnails between my teeth at some kind of outdoor party. And not sexy skinny and naked, but creepy, needs food badly skinny and naked. The night before it was a mad scientist who was a half-house fly who trapped me in the basement of an old theater where we continuously tried to kill each other while a war went on above us. I had a rifle I was so accurate with that I could kill flying insects but he had jars and jars of flies he kept releasing so I'd run out of ammunition. Other than the teeth cleaning, my dreams have been consistently violent. I'm pretty sure that's not good.
My brother has a strangely difficult decision to make. He's being courted by a company that wants him to move to the Cayman Islands and get paid substantially more than he makes now. The only problem is, he can't take his dog with him. Easy choice, right? It's just a damn dog, after all. Well, yeah, except the dog is about half-way through her training to become search-and-rescue certified. To just drop out for a year or two would be pretty much screw the chances for certification for him and the dog, something that's really important to him. It becomes a choice of picking which dream to follow.
I'm still at work. This time because the big project has failed again due to outside forces. Somebody decided that Friday afternoon was the best time to run maintenance on the servers that support all member login for us, CNN, and NASCAR without bothering to inform the rest of the company. I'm holding on until they can deliver a page we can throw up in front of our stuff that says "come back later."
What little sleep I've gotten lately has dredged up some really strange notes from my subconcious. Last night it was a naked, skinny woman you kept trying to wedge her thumbnails between my teeth at some kind of outdoor party. And not sexy skinny and naked, but creepy, needs food badly skinny and naked. The night before it was a mad scientist who was a half-house fly who trapped me in the basement of an old theater where we continuously tried to kill each other while a war went on above us. I had a rifle I was so accurate with that I could kill flying insects but he had jars and jars of flies he kept releasing so I'd run out of ammunition. Other than the teeth cleaning, my dreams have been consistently violent. I'm pretty sure that's not good.
My brother has a strangely difficult decision to make. He's being courted by a company that wants him to move to the Cayman Islands and get paid substantially more than he makes now. The only problem is, he can't take his dog with him. Easy choice, right? It's just a damn dog, after all. Well, yeah, except the dog is about half-way through her training to become search-and-rescue certified. To just drop out for a year or two would be pretty much screw the chances for certification for him and the dog, something that's really important to him. It becomes a choice of picking which dream to follow.