Mary and Kyle just made their triumphant final exit from the office. It's finally starting to hit and I am very fucking sad.

We are making the most of Andrea's temporary disabled status, along with the hard-earned parking placard that accompanies this status, by going to as many movies during prime-time hours as we can think of. Usually we don't go, especially not on the weekends because there is no parking and the theaters are packed. But when you have Class A Gimp parking, there is no problem. Tonight we're off to see the new Austin Powers, mainly so I can sit there and say mole! mole! mole! forever and ever, just like after Dan and I saw Uncle Buck, where a melanoma featured prominently in the story line. We still joke about that mole (Moley Russel's Wart) today, hopefully tonight's mole will have a similar lasting effect. Mole.

It seems that only a handful of people were laid off, most of them upper management/higher paid employees. Scratch that, they all fall into that category. They're here packing and it's odd, I want them to be gone now so that I can get on with doing my job, which is now also part of their job. It's hard to concentrate when they're here being bitter and upset (rightfully so) and it's now my job to pretend like everything is normal.

My brother scored his first goal last night. Go Chris!!

I told my mom that I plan to attend my sister's wedding. I shouldn't have, I should have just snuck into the state, stayed near the wedding and gone back home without seeing any of my family. The moment I said it, mom got all weird and was like 'are you sure you want to go? If it was me, I wouldn't go.' Jesus. Am I going to hear about this every time I talk to her for the next month? What people who aren't adopted don't understand is that at the core of your life is a very traumatic event that from what I can tell, affects so very much of who we become after that and if I can get a little healing, a little closure from going to a wedding, then I will.

Some good news: one of my 3 teams has a solid enough record to go to the playoffs. The Jets will be playing Sunday at 5:15 PM. Woo! I'll be there!

I walk around the corner this morning and there's one of my co-workers, loading boxes into his car. I walk into the building and the slimiest sales guy is talking about how great this opportunity is for him and how the company is poised to kick ass in the market and blah blah. Later he came to my desk and I said ' what's up, Mr. Party Line?' and he said 'party line? I'm a party guy' clearly missing the meaning of my comment.


My boss was also laid off. Good god. Why did they buy us if they didn't want us around?

I'm safe. I'm still employed, however I don't know if I'll be forced to take a cut in pay and I'm no longer allowed to work from home. My favorite co-worker was laid off and we still don't know if my boss was. The good part is that they're sending me for technical training which in theory could open doors for me going forward. I'm still stunned about Mary.

We got the official company memo today. Today I'm either being laid off or given a new job offer for my same job, possibly at a lower salary, my vacation would start over and I'd be forced to sign up with a new insurance carrier. I am so tired of all the layoffs in my life. I know there's something to be learned from each one but shit, I'm really tired of the constant worrying and in the end, of no longer liking what I do.

As I write I'm working from home, the sound of happy baby bassets wrestling in the living room/dining room/kitchen/outside is music to my ears. How could we have even questioned bringing Patrick into our family? He's the best gift we could have ever given Rainie.


Yesterday the current incarnation of the A-Team had their last game. I chose to sit out since I am taking no chances with my noggin until it's fully healed. They chose to end the season with an all-out brawl, with the usual suspects getting ejected from the game/penalty minutes as a lovely parting gift. I was embarrassed but no longer surprised. I wish them all the best in their new team and look forward to rebuilding, hopefully without folks who want to fight during the game. During the handshakes after the game, one of the instigators said 'Kiss my ass' instead of good game.

Afterwards, I played my first game in a week, with my NCWHL team. I was very tenative at first but got my sea legs back after the first period. There was also a fight in that game too, with one of our players getting shitty on one of theirs. Our coach didn't let that woman go out for the post-game handshakes. I guess everyone was just grumpy. I was happy to be not puking so I didn't have a lot to say about it.

I had no idea that b-may is also an Ohio State fan. I'm sure that kid is pointing at someone from Michigan.

A sign of the times
The following jobs match the criteria set up in your agent:

***Your HTML agent yielded 1 jobs:

1. Manager - San Jose Taco Bell

My sister Rachel is getting married in September. I'm thrilled for her but was bummed when she didn't want to invite me -- I'm essentially the bastard 1/2 sister that emerged from the woodwork 5 years ago and rattled her mom, since my birthfather had claimed all along that his girlfriend in high school had had a baby, but it wasn't his. Ha! I'd resigned myself to not going, vowing instead to give a gigantic gift that cost as much as a gift and air fare to Ohio. Imagine my great surprise when she told me this weekend that she'd changed her mind, that it's her wedding and I needed to be there! I'm still in awe and am now a little nervous, I'll be meeting my birthfather, his wife, my other sister and brother for the first time. But I'm thrilled that Rachel asked me to go. Of course I'll go!


This morning, I was informed that the phrase 'suck ass' is not condusive to career development. Maybe that's okay.

Even though Holly is far away, I'll be able to see her in less than 2 weeks when I go to Ohio. I'll be hitting the open road and travelling to Cincinatti so I thought, hmm, maybe I'll get myself a hotel room and have another mini-vacation after our visit. Holly's new home is right near King's Island so all the hotels are super expensive for what they are (wow! a night at the Red Roof Inn for only $110! What a crock of shit!) so I expanded my search to the greater metro area and there it was, a decent hotel in the same small town where I gestated. I wasn't expecting that. My birthmom spent a few months in a home for unwed mothers (it's now a convalescent home) waiting for my arrival and for the chance to get back to her life along with a host of other young women. I don't think I'll be staying at that hotel, it would be too easy to want to drive by that place and imagine what it was like for her then, I guess that's part of her story that I don't want to intrude in.


VW Type 3's in the movies. In case you're an air-cooled fan like me. Having Weezy back, sans shrink wrap and running smoothly is the greatest thing. I roll around the neighborhood, Weezy purring her old VW purr, with the 2/35 air conditioning going (2 windows, 35 MPH) and the wind running through my hair to drown the smell of gas that I'm trying hard to ignore.

The moving guys have removed all of the stuff that was surrounding my desk and the desk of the woman who sat next to me. Soon there will be cubes in it's place and I'll be moved to another room. In the meantime, it's just me in the end of a great big room. People feel the need to come by and to comment on the space (yup, it's empty, except for Liz) and to watch me work. Not only that, they're touching me. Do I look like someone who wants to be touched? NO!!

One thing about the new helmet is that they look like Stormtrooper hats. I'll be on the Dark Side.

My buddy Glen suggested that I try the Mission Carbster helmet to prevent further concussions. It's his helmet of choice and supports his preferred agressive style of play. I tried one on yesterday and it was too small. The nice man at my local hockey shop is going to get the next 2 sizes up for me to try, we'll see if that's the magic solution. I am very grateful that I was wearing my current helmet (Jofa 690) and a heavy-duty mouthguard. Without those, my little brain injury could have been a lot worse. Hopefully this new helmet will be the magic pill.

In addition, there are two guys moving stuff around the office to make room for the new folks. These guys do not seem to understand that I am a real live worker type person who does not feel any desire to be part of their loud ass conversation about bootay. It's going to be a long day.

Good Morning!
It's a good thing I was awake when this happened or I would've been pissed. At 6:31 this morning, I was rushing through my morning routine when my cell phone rang. It was Amy so I figured it was important and picked up. In fact, it was not important, it was apparently Amy's phone missing me and giving me a little good morning shout-out on it's own. I bid it farewell and went back to what I was doing.

When I got to work, I was in the kitchen making my oatmeal (with milk in an attempt to raise my calcium intake) when the office manager came in and said 'you're moving, na ja?' Um... sure. I guess we bought yet another company (probably for $1 like we were) and those guys are moving in. I'm losing my swank digs and moving into the big room with the grownups, which is kind of okay since I work with them pretty closely anyhoo. I did manage to talk her out of erecting cubicles because they really fuck with my wrists. Of course she went on to grill me about how it works (this is sort of like being at the hospital, where each person who meets you asks the same questions and you have to answer them) why I couldn't use a keyboard tray (fat thighs, if you must know) or have the cubicle height adjusted (I need it lower than a file cabinet, which seems to be an integral part of any cubicle) why this why that. Finally I said, I've figured out over the years that when I have a setup that works, I don't change it. Let's find a way to keep my current desk setup intact. I do not need fancy bookcases or cupboards, just a desk at the right height so I don't have pain. I really don't think that's too much to ask.


Fucking Loud
Right now outside in the street, a young neighbor is zooming up and down on his gas-powered scooter as another neighbor with a decorative horn playing part of a Mexican tune is driving up and down the street, honking his decorative honk and using his newest addition -- a loudspeaker to announce things in Spanish to all who habla espanol. It's a good thing I'm not at home with a concussion or anything. Oh wait. This fucking sucks. Ole.

I now have an occasional twitch over my left eye. This started right after the big head bump. As long as it doesn't lead to tourette's, I'm okay with it. Or if it does, I'd like the variety that makes you cuss all the time.

Wow! For the first time since Patrick arrived 2 months ago, Gus is wrestling with him and Rainie. Woo hoo! The old guy still has it in him!

Speaking of Rainie (not just her butt) she's been extremely clingy lately, wanting to be with me all of the time, and not content to lay on the futon behind me when I work from home, pawing her little paws off the edge onto my back demanding attention, putting her mouth under our bedroom door and whining when we're in there and awake, sprawling all over me on the couch at night even when 2 of the other dogs are also on there. Like Alice, I think she feels my mood/pain very well and does her basset-y best to comfort me. Either that or she isn't feeling okay. Andrea's keeping an eye on the both of us.

Last night I caught a glimpse of Rainie's butt and for a split second, I thought it was Alice.

But Stacey, we Broke Up!
My hockey team started out with a very new, very enthusiastic goalie. She's a little weird and talks like the little kid in Jerry McGuire. Seriously. I stand there and say things like "the human head weighs 8 pounds" and "my neighbor has 2 dogs" while she's talking incessantly. This would all be fine if she showed up on a regular basis and was a decent goalie. Unfortunately, she's neither, so I finally had fired her 2 weeks ago. Or so I thought. Last week at HockeyWorkout, I show up to play and get a message that our goalie couldn't make it. What do you mean? Our goalie, Robert, is right here. However, Stacey (not her real name, but Wayne's from Wayne's World's ex-girlfriend's name) had called to let them know. No shit, you're NOT THE GOALIE.

I didn't play last night but I heard that she showed up expecting to play saying she was the goalie for this team. Um... hi. You're not. Two of my teammates had to have the talk with her and even then she played for a period. I guess I have to call her, put it in writing and issue a legal document to that effect to get her to go away. At this point, I'm so creeped out by the whole thing that I don't want to call her from my home phone, lest she see the number on her caller ID and start harassing me.

In the end, I'm learning that I prefer spending time with grownups, not kids.


Oh the love! Rainie gave me both an eye booger and a personalized ear cleaning. Wow!

I am trying but as time goes on, I'm finding that the commute from my house to San Francisco is getting to be more than I can bear.

The only redeeming part about the doctor visit was her saying that I have the blood pressure and heartrate of an athlete. Woo! I'm an athlete. After 27 years of being a fatass couch potato, that's about the best thing I could hear.

The chiropractor did some of her magic but not all since my muscles are so tight you can bounce a quarter off of them. Yummy.

Mr. Gus with his 8 teeth of ferocity thinks it's necessary to bark like crazy at the mailman. Despite the reinforced metal screen door we have, the mailman would like me to install a mailbox closer to the street so he can get to the door without being barked at. I told him he's welcome to leave the mail on the porch but that i'm not interested in installing something just because he's afraid of a dog with no teeth.

Rainie offers you all her most prized gift: an eye booger of love.

It's official, I'm concussed. As I suspected, I need to take a week off of hockey, though unlike Gerald's doctor, who told him to take up cycling instead of hockey, mine just said to wait a week. I can do that.


Picked up my lovely '72 Squareback on Friday. I got off the train 1 stop early, then took a bus to the repair shop. Waiting for the bus, I figured it was going to be a while, but no sooner had I opened my book that the 22 (aka my fine steed) arrived and I was on my way. I grinned as soon as I saw Weezy, naked once again and back to her beautiful, rusty pale blue self. She started right up, thanks to the magic fingers of Nick, my mechanic. The shrink-wrap remover guy had said that the side panels came off just fine but the top was jacked up so I was not prepared to see Weezy's side panels all jacked up, like gigantic bruises on either side of her. The two rear panels had been replaced at some point in her 30 years, it was the paint from them that caused the problem.

Looks like she's headed for a paintjob next month. All along, I'd figured on navy blue, which is pretty, but not stock. But lately I can't stop thinking about kelly green.

For my 3 concerned friends, I'm headed to the doctor and the chiropractor tomorrow so I should be good as new by 3 pm. And thanks to everyone who asked.

Do people have no compassion?

I'm walking to get coffee w/ my co-workers and say 'I think I have a concussion'. Co-worker #1 says "so anyway, Friday night I worked until blah time, then went out drinking" and co-worker #2 gets mad at co-worker #1 for not giving enough details. Later, I say it again, to co-worker #2, who says 'Oh,' then tells me about the time (at band camp) she was surfing and knocked her head, but didn't have a concussion. Is it really that hard to say 'oh, I'm sorry, are you okay?'

So for all the times I haven't said it to Andrea since the Accident, 'Oh, loo, I'm sorry. Are you okay?'

It seems somewhat official, the hockey team that's going to the Gay Games doesn't want me. Or rather, they *may* want me but first they have to see if these other two people are available, and if those people aren't, they'll ask me. Mind you, they've never seen me play or held any kind of tryout where I could demonstrate my skills. Yup, I'm pissed but grateful that Michael had warned me about how political the team could be (they basically did they same thing to him a few years back, then asked him to play after someone else flaked out) so I wasn't surprised and am not taking it personally. It seems likely that they'll call me at the last minute, but a trip halfway around the world is NOT something I'd take on on short notice. Michael is putting together a team for the 2006 Games in Canada, I'd be proud to join him then. Of course I'll be playing in the NCWHL's elite blue division by then. Ha!

The good news is, that means we can go to Hawaii with Chris and Lisa instead. Not a bad backup plan!

Ring my bell
I've been playing defense a lot lately, which is fine because it's what I'm good at and what I like. During yesterday's A-Team game, I was hanging back, playing more conservatively than usual because I'm tired, sore and pissed at those guys for leaving. So there I was, hanging back in our zone w/ the goalie, minding my own business, when somehow, my right outside edge caught on something and I went down. Hard. First my legs went out from under me and I though, okay, this has happened before a bunch of times, no big deal. Then my back hit, again, hey I have pads, no big whoop, but then I heard the crack and felt the thud as my head hit the ice at full speed. I saw stars (which, for the record are not actually stars, it's more like looking at where the pavement meets the sky on a hot day) and came to the bench crying, screaming "D! D!" I sat out 2 or 3 shifts then went back, with a new twitch in my left eye and fighting the urge to puke.

I still managed to play some good D upon my return. After the game, everyone wanted to talk and I just couldn't, it hurt too much and I had another game at 4:15.

Today I still want to puke (and just might) and have a sore neck. A trip to our trusty chiropractor should help a bit. But ugh, my bell has been rung.


This just in: National Feral Cat Day 2002 is October 16th!

Finally having the shrink wrapped removed from my car, after 3 years. They called to tell me that it's not going very well on the roof and there's a chance it could be damaged. I had kinda figured that but still gave them a bit of a hard time about it. But soon, Weezy will be back on the streets of San Jose, back to her original blue/rust color. I guess I'll need to get that paint job done sooner rather than later, that's all.

I feel old, but not in a bad way
My co-worker and I went for coffee, not an uncommon thing since there's a starbucks on every corner. We took along a young chippie from the company that bought us who is very nice but awfully young. She lives a life full of adventures like getting drunk and passing out on a regular basis, hitting the weed in the afternoons and many other things that I too did when I was a bit younger, though I don't seem to remember doing them quite as often. I suspect that she's been awfully young for most of her life, despite occassionally being around people of her own age. During the 15 minute adventure, we had to remind her to use her inside voice, got comments about how square we were, us geezers. Finally I said 'I feel so old around you' and she said 'I'm sorry'. My response? It's not really a bad thing.

My buddy said it isn't so bad, being thought of as a square, it leaves your social calendar wide open.

After a week of veritable blogging tourette's, it seems that I'm out of stuff to say.

Just heard that the defectors are moving up 2 divisions to DDDD, where the Jets play. I feel a bit better after hearing that and will most certainly remain part of the Jets just to watch that action.

Bored? Looking for something kind of addictive? IM Austin Powers!


Oh and thanks to Dan for sending me $1 million via PayPal.

I figure I've done enough work for the day (it's been pretty darn busy) and it's time to go. Except of course that it's not time to go and leaving at 4:17 pm is just not acceptable here.

Never thought I'd say this but I think I played too much hockey this week. I have bruises all over (and some leftover hives) from god knows what and from a guy knocking me down with the butt end of his stick. If I kept a bruise book I'd be adding some of these to it. But not the hives, cause they're on my ass, and nobody needs to see that, even if it is smaller than it used to be.

Despite having been sent a warning from our office manager about keeping our voices down around the office, I guess it's okay to have a strange man packing a box with all sorts of packing materials not 5 feet from my desk. It's not like I need to say, do some work.

At the moment, I'm not sure what I'm going to do about the hockey team. I'm looking seriously at the options and will make an announcement to the remaining players (who the defectors did not say a word to about this team) after our last game of the season next Sunday. What those guys have done is something that will most certianly leave a scar on me, hopefully on their conscience as well (though I doubt it). The easy way out is to say that their goals (winning, never mind that they don't score) are different than the rest of the team's (to have fun and improve our skills while we're at it) and that difference is irreconcilable, which of course it is. I have to remember that these guys are young, think they have the answer in their hand and clearly, were not looking for the kind of team I put together.

The hardest part is knowing that so many of them lied to me or evaded the answer, fearing my reaction. Just because you can't predict what I'll do doesn't mean I don't deserve a straight answer. Please remember that the next time you decided to screw someone over, especially someone who you'll continue to see. We all deserve at least that.

I'm dressed like a derelict today. When I was getting dressed, I was so tired, I grabbed the nappy ass, grubby sweatshirt I wear around the house instead of one of the clean(er) ones I wear to work. I didn't notice until I was at the train station, waiting, and saw a huge splotch of dirt on my shoulder. At that point, I looked at the sleeves, saw that they are filthy (though not in a living on the streets kind of way) and that the thing is covered in dog hair. I'm trying to hide from my co-workers until it's time to go home and wash this thing.

Played in a maroon game again last night. I've made myself available to one of the teams for (I think) 5 games now and have been able to play each time. With each game I play with them, I grow more confident and make a stronger contribution. It was great fun and not only did I play maroon, I had a wrist shot on goal (hit the goalie in the chest) AND had my first recorded assist of the season (I did have 2 in a red game but the scorekeeper credited someone else). It was a Big Night!

I'm so sore from all the games I've played this week that I don't want to play for another week.


After the initial spark of interest from the hockey team going to the Gay Games, I haven't heard anything in a month. With the registration deadline looming, it's not looking good. I do want to go but don't feel like tracking down this team to make it happen. That's probably because I'm still quite tired.

I keep checking my email obsessively, as if I'm expecting someone to send me $1 million via PayPal or something. What's wrong with me?

Had my first full (okay, 6 hours) night of sleep in 3 days last night. I woke up wondering why the alarm was going off but much refreshed. A good chat with Bob lent me some perspective on the whole hockey thing and I'm feeling better about it. The A-Team was started with the goal of building a team, having fun and maybe winning some games. We've done all that. The guys who are leaving just want to win (and have fights). Go forth and do that, I'll be having fun whether I win or lose.


What would Jesus do?

I took the opportunity to get shitty on both a telemarketer and a dumbass potential adopter this morning. Just to spread my grumpiness around. There's a lotta love in this room. But not when I'm in it today. On about a million levels I'm mad about what those guys are doing. Make that a million and one, with the one being fucking hives.

fuckers giving me hives

After I heard all this nonsense last night, I arrived home from practice to find myself covered in hives. Okay, not covered, but since I'd never had one until that moment, it was a lot! Nothing is worth this kind of grief. I'm on my second sleepless night and have leftover hives to boot. Screw you guys, I'm going to some other team where I just have to show up and don't need to worry about keeping everyone happy. And hopefully don't get hives.

The End of the A-Team
I am shocked, stunned and so mad I could spit. Many members of the A-Team have decided that they like each other, but not everyone, so they're leaving the team to start their own, leaving me with no more than 4 of our less strong players (and Bob, who is a strong player). At this point, I am too tired of dealing with all the administrative minutia of being captian and I don't feel up to finding basically a whole new team so it looks like I'm throwing in the towel and heading to another team (hopefully with Bob, between my stamina and his skills, we're one super good player).

I feel absolutely blindsided and shit upon, not to mention lied to by at least 3 of them. I can handle many things (and I'm handling this too) but being lied to remains the #1 worst thing you can do to me so I'm pretty pissed at that on top of all this.

I'll be there for our last two games but I can't guarantee I want to play very hard while I'm there. At this point, I consider the A-Team an expiriment that failed and while I don't hold myself completely responsible for that failure, I still am pretty upset about all this.

The good news is I'm playing Maroon tomorrow night. Woo!


Looks like the A-Team is losing at least 2 players next season. I'm totally bummed.

I guess I'm dehydrated, I keep choking. What a pain in the neck.

I get so excited after Sunday night hockey games, I can't sleep, so I entered today with a whopping 3 hours of sleep. Good thing I slept for pretty much then entire weekend.

In case you were wondering, the glove that makes me drop my jaw in awe is the Oakley Mace glove, which has just recently come available. Someday, when my other gloves are more fucked up, I'll be able to justify adding a pair of these beauties to my gear bag. Until then, I'll just keep staring.

Ow! My ass!
In both of last night's hockey games, I got knocked on my ass, the first was worse, I think, I went right down on my left buttcheek as Leslie bumped into me. Today my left cheek is quite sore but at least it gives me license to say "Ow! My Ass!"


I can't stop looking at this guy's files. He mentions the Ma of La Mancha in his philosophy so he can't be bad.

My web hosting company had to rebuild a server and in restoring the data, put some photographer's files onto my server. It's like looking into someone's medicine cabinet or purse when you didn't mean to.


And why do the puppies insist on climbing into the bathtub all the time?

Andrea's still in the hospital and we're both remembering that a side effect of Vicodin (and no doubt, a lot of pain) is grumpiness, or as the drug manufacturers say "mood swings." They have no idea if she's going home tonight or what, or even what they're waiting for before she can go. I think she's exhausted the limited entertainment possibilities of the hospital and will welcome our supply of multimedia entertainment possibilities when she returns home.


The surgery went fine, the patient is resting comfortably in a drug-induced haze and happy now that they let her eat after almost 24 hours without food.

The Patient

This morning's doctor visit confirmed Andrea's date with the operating room for this afternoon. It's scheduled for 4 p.m., but they could move it up so we're to wait here for a phone call. She isn't allowed to eat or drink before surgery so she keeps trying to catch me off guard "hey could you put in a pizza for me?" or "can we go to McDonald's?" Right now she's on the couch, assisted by her new friend Vicodin, moaning and waiting.

She'll be in the hospital tonight and possibly tomorrow night.

Andrea broke her ankle tonight. Just got home from the ER and we're headed to some orthopedic dr. in the morning, most likely surgery in the afternoon. Please keep her in your thoughts....


3 dogs are sleeping but Ms. Rainie is restless, waddling around the house, looking for things to get into. At least she's good at it.

I guess we're looking for a new engineer at work because all of a sudden, my email is slammed with resumes. Evidently our well-meaning office manager listed the all@ alias as the applying address. Whoops.

What's amazing is that people are still looking for 6 figures, but are now "flexible" on that. I thought those days were long gone or am I just in the wrong place?

Gus likes to watch things. The guinea pig, birds at the dog park. What captures his attention is not exactly random, but certainly not predictable either. His current obsession is the CD drawer in the computer (aka the cup holder). He stands here, cocking his head, sniffing all around it after it's closed like it's got all of life's answers. Hell, maybe it does.

Poor guy ripped a toenail off while I was out of town. We should've put one of those Elizabethan collars on him but we held back for purely selfish reasons -- they can't get through the doggie door with one of those things on and I do NOT want to clean up a lake of Gus pee.

Hey all you JavaScript experts out there, does anyone know how to detect the referring URL, then redirect users from a specific URL to another page, sending everyone else to the default page? Just when I think I'm getting close on this, it turns out my solution is not the answer.

Speaking of the puppies, here's a re-enactment of a recent conversation with the receptionist at the vet's office:
Me: Hi, we need to bring Rainie in, I think she has an ear infection.
Her: Oh, well, you could try some Otomax (aka ear goo) on that.
Me: Um, no, no we can't. Rainie ate that a while back.
Her: Well, you could try cleaning it with some ear cleaner.
Me: Um, no, no we can't. Rainie ate that too.

By the time I got into the office, word had spread and all they could say is, "Alice is alive and well, except Rainie has far less discerning taste."

Yup, I guess so.

Farewell to Devil Ducky, victim of puppyhood.

While in Portland, I bought a devil ducky because Rob had one and well, because they're cool. Andrea laughed at it, but I like it so I added it to our bathtub. I didn't quite connect it earlier, but Patrick (who often climbs in the bathtub when I'm working at home) thought it was a good Roo-toy and now poor devil ducky is mulilated and Patrick (who is either happy, or asleep) has no idea why I'm not talking to him.

I'm always amazed at how much work I do these days. In my younger days, I'd get all distracted and hardly work but these days, I do a ton of work and hardly get distracted. Could I be growing up?

Speaking of growing up, the bassets are not being grown ups today. Patrick got the peanut butter off the counter and ate most of it while Rainie licked the lid. This bought both of them a long time out in crates, staring longingly at each other. As soon as I let them out, they wrestled so hard the floor was shaking. Their bodies may be almost done growing, but puppies they remain.

I'm sequestered in the office with just the old guys. It's quieter this way.

My boss wrote this big document about how we handle technical support and it refers to multiple people doing tech support, which is funny since it's just me. I guess I'm more than one person now! Would I have to buy an extra seat on Southwest then?


In my travels, I also got to visit the Kennedy School, which I'd read about in a travel magazine but thought I couldn't make it to since it's not really on public transit. Good thing Bec and Annette came up to see me in their fine car and took my ass out there for some beer.

I have been told that the phrase "the shit" has now been remodeled and should be said "the crap." As in, "Liz, your website is THE CRAP!"

On the fine Amtrak train from Portland to Eugene, I sat in the lounge, eating but not enjoying a lousy ass salad and some 7-up while behind me these three Shady Characters were having a conversation. I never did turn around to see them, keeping the mystique intace. Below is a paraphrased re-enactment of the event:

SC1: "I'm going to Vegas to win me some money. I owe the state $2200 for my driver's license and don't know how to get the cash, so I'm going to beg for money in my wheelchair."
SC2: "That's a good idea, be careful you don't get busted"
SC3: "Trust me on this, you do NOT want to end up in Clark County Jail."
SC2: "Really? Why not?"
SC3: "Just trust me. It's not nearly as nice as the jails in Oregon."

Yup, I learned a few things on the train.

After a really relaxing, positive vacation, I'm now keenly aware of how negative people can be/are. I guess I was too and will be again once I'm fully indoctrinated into my real life, but for now I have to wonder -- if we're all so damn negative, how can we be positive?

Looking for a detailed history of Michael Jackson's face 'augmentations'? Look no further, thanks to Susan.

It looks like Northern CA Basset rescue has been born. Nobody else around here seems to give a crap about them, so as of yesterday, when Shakespeare went directly from the shelter to a new home, NCBHR arrived in the world, headed and fully staffed by yours truly.

I'm back to my regular life after a fantastic vacation. It's easy to get anethestitized to your daily life, then wake up from that anesthesia for a while. Going back to it is the hard part, in my mind right now I'm wandering around downtown Portland, on a bus full of old people going from Astoria to Portland, at the Columbia Martime Museum gazing at the Coast Guard boat, watching the sunset off the pier in Warrenton, eating at my favorite Chinese resturant in Portland (they still remembered me, even after almost 6 years away), hanging out with Bec and Annette, talking away the night, riding a train from Portland to Eugene and eating fine grilled meat products with Bec's family.

But that's in my mind. In reality, I'm here, coming to you live from the ass of the Bay Bridge.


Holly just stopped by, I'm so sad and miss her already.

It is so hot that none of the dogs are wrestling, they're not even awake. Only Rainie remains alert, waiting no doubt for the moment I leave. Patrick sleeps through everything, even when it's not hot.

It is so hot that none of the dogs are wrestling, they're not even awake. Only Rainie remains alert, waiting no doubt for the moment I leave. Patrick sleeps through everything, even when it's not hot.

Rainie knows I'm leaving tonight, she is following me around giving me the guilty look like Alice used to. The boy dogs are oblivious and it's so hot that Gus is showing no, that's right, no interest in watching his love, the Guinea Pig.

I discovered this morning that Patrick can fit a CD case in his mouth -- the tall way. That's got to hurt.

I leave for Oregon in 4 hours. I am SO ready for this vacation, even though it means leaving Andrea and our house of Roos behind for a few days.

We had a really nice weeked, with Saturday's big adventure at the Dyke March (aka the ManFest) with Amy in her fabulolus sequined cowboy hat and our new best friends from BART, Rhonda and Tony (who LOVES lesbians). We sat with them the whole way back to Fremont, it was homo-polooza.

Sunday I stopped by Holly's house, where Leo was sporting his 'lil swimmers in their spiffy blow up pool. Holly leaves for Ohio tomorrow with Leo and the kitties, Kevin's outta here on the 12th (I think). It was too hard to stay, knowing that soon enough, they won't be here. At least they're moving to a place where I can visit them when I go to Columbus, but it still sucks. I miss you guys already.

Working from home (work is kinda slow today, thanks to the holiday and a stable product) and the Roos are out in the living room wrestling with Buddy, who is back for a visit while his new family is out of town. All is going well, but a little while ago, something got out of hand and one of my Roos was whining, hurt. I stormed out to inspect the damage, scared to death that one of my Roos was hurt. I know theyr'e young and suposed to play but the thought of anything harming them brings my heart into my throat. After all we've been through with sick dogs, I'm just not ready for any emergencies.

I was as panicked as the day Gus made his mad dash for freedom. I picked him up on San Carlos street after I'd blocked him in with the car (as seen on COPS), I rushed out toward him shouting "WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?" the panic in my voice hiding nothing of how scared I was.

Yup, I love these dogies.

Remember the sad tale of Izzo the basset who was seriously abused? He's on the mend, thanks to good medical care and help from viewers like you! Hooray for Izzo!

The A-team celebrated our first tie yesterday, going 1-1 against the Ice Hawks, who were ranked #2 in the division. We had an amazing goalie in net and a superb effort from everyone. We only had 13 skaters, 2 less than usual so it was a tremendous acheivement. For the first time ever, as a team, we played a full 3 periods. Usually we poop out after 2, but last night, we stayed in it until the very end, fending off their scoring attempts in the last 30 seconds, when we were stuck in our zone.

Bob gets the best actor award for flopping into the boards and staying there, puck between him and the boards until a whistle was blown, minimizing our penalty kill. Jordan scored while we were on a 3 on 5 (that's right, 2 of our players in the box at the same time) and everyone else, well, kicked ass. Afterwards the Ice Hawks captain said "you have a strong bench there" and I said, yes, yes it is.

Go A-Team! We're finally turning into the kind of team I'd hoped to create when I started this. And it's a hell of a lot of fun.

The roos turned 1 1/2 this weekend! Woo!