null

Last night, I was at the bar ordering one of those monster rounds for the entire table. A young scenester hottie in a trenchcoat asked me whose birthday it was. When I told her there wasn't a birthday, she asked what we were celebrating. In my usual laconic drawl and with an equally characteristic shrug, I answered, "Wednesday." She blinked at that, and I paid for her drink, because what's six dollars more when you're buying a triple-digit round. Then I went back to my table without another word.

Later, she stood directly in front of me with her back to me. Two of her friends were looking at me over her shoulders, and when I'd glance over they'd bend in close and whisper to the girl in the trenchcoat.

Various and assorted misadventures happened afterward, but that was a great source of amusement for me.

I got home about the time I'd normally be getting up, so I was a bit late to work. I was the first person from the drinking crew in the doors, though.

Later, my archenemy, the Spanglish-speaking ex-director of engineering, came in to say goodbye, as he'd been fired a few weeks ago. He muttered something about wishing me luck, which he didn't mean; he muttered something about there being a lot of upsides to his situation, which was patently untrue; he minced around the doorway to my office for a few seconds, sighed heavily, slumped his shoulders, and hung his head; and he skulked out of my office.

After declaring that creepy, watching the QA manager trying to avoid the same fate, and deciding that the ultimate being would have to be an undead robot pirate ninja monkey riding a velociraptor, I left early.

Now I'm at home listening to "Deep Cover", considering ordering Pagliacci pizza, and preparing to read a Sin City book. It's a good day.