Why Plinko hates you.

the life and times of one jaded motherfucker.

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Saturday, May 20
 
It's getting hot down here. We're not going to crack 90 today, but it's close.

So, I have recovered from my jet lag, thank you. I wish I had exciting news, but I'm not that kind of guy. I found a decent place to get pizza, and it's close to the office. I count that among my more recent triumphs, which lets you know how triumphant my life has been lately.

Just before my trip, I purchased a Nintendo DS and a couple of games. Today I got the "New Super Mario Bros." Now when I head back to Wisconsin for Memorial Day shenanigans, I can sit and play Mario Kart while all the non-nerds socialize, just like a.Lo and Ron. I can't wait for next weekend, now!

The big news is I am teetering on the edge of looking for another job. I actually like Atlanta (though the dearth of geeks makes it a lonely city), but there aren't many other companies here that are in my field. So, if I am dissatisfied, I might have to move again. Having now gotten back from my trip, I have decided I am definitely tired of my demotion to note taker. No matter what fancy title they might print on my business cards or what salary appears on my bi-weekly paychecks, I am little more than that right now.

Lastly, In case you didn't know, I am taking a couple of extra vacation days after Memorial Day. I will be hanging around the Oshkoshistan until Wednesday night, so you'll have to hide your valuables for two extra days.


Saturday, May 13
 
I'm home. Spacey, but home.

As usual, I only suffer jet lag when I get home. In one way, it's better, since you're not messing up with your very-important travel business or with eating at nice restaurants and sleeping in a fancy room on the company's tab. On the other hand, you're home for months, so there's no logical end to look forward to. Last time I went on a costing trip, I was wonky for 3 weeks, longer than the trip.

On to other things. . . It turns out the dog missed me. My roommate said he moped around and slept most of the time I was gone. He's been by me almost the entire time I've been home. I suppose that's something.

I baked two pies today, my favorite kind: strawberry-rhubarb. I went to Kroger this morning to fill up my very empty cupboards (naturally I tried to clear them as much as possible before I left), and saw rhubarb for the first time since I got to Georgia. It was huge, all of it like the biggest you'd ever see in your garden. They weren't marked with a name or price, but I know rhubarb when I see it. So I bought more than enough for two pies.

When I checked out, the cashier had no idea what the stuff even was. Best of all, when she found the code and rang it up, I discovered that in Georgia, rhubarb goes for $4/lb.

Now, in Wisconsin, no one would ever pay that. People pay you to take their rhubarb away. You move out of a house because the rhubarb patch has taken over the yard and it's easier to buy a new house than get rid of it once it's growing.

Not here in the Peachy state. No, here you pay for it as if it were grown on a tiny island in the South Pacific and can only be harvested once a year by specially trained monkeys who wear funny hats.

OK, me tired now. I hope I can keep myself awake until 8 or 9, because getting up at 3am gets old real fast.