Tanks On The Horizon.

There were so many homos during last night's game against so and so I started to lose count. Dizzying really. Andy did a great job although he gave up three, and just about had a nervous breakdown on the mound. Derek scored the "game is officially over" homo, and I just had to let everyone know. Well the guy downstairs probably knows. I stayed up a little later than I should have to watch a nice Bones rerun, and I can tell you Booth is no loser. If you watched it you understand.

But I still managed to drag my ass into work at an objectionable hour. Alerted some one somewhere about the recent court filings, attached the pertinent pdfs yet no one seems willing to update my frackin website. Typical. I did manage to make myself some coffee even though I was more than willing to pay someone I could not find a place within 200 yards open. Ass. My hand was bleeding this morning, and I don't remember getting into a fight, but as I was waiting for my bus I tried some casual hand gestures to off center the homeless nit wearing tartan, and I got blood on my shirt. More ass.

My friend just sent me this link to these shirts which I'm now obsessed with. Actually I'm more obsessed with the name Femke De Vries, like the Mentat in Dune or something I just can't stop saying it wherever I go. I'm actually quite likely to break out into some Dune dialog right in the middle of the conference room blissfully unaware of what is going on as I blankly express that "what can be done has been done." People underestimate the impact of a proper name, branding, etc.

I hope to God that the coffee I just tried to make is ready and did not explode all over. It did. I just checked. That's triple ass.