I usually just write in my blog ... but I had to take a break from that. Too many people expecting too much of it ...
So I figured I can write here a bit. Couldn't hurt. I need a place to bitch and vent anyways.
It's day seven of our siege against Hewlitt-Packard. Our core routing switch is an HP 9315, and it's all fucked up. They insist it's a software configuration problem, we know it's not, but they refuse to even come out and look at it. Even though we have a support contract. Fuckers.
Well in the neverending search for true love / poontang I keep getting IM's from this chick on Yahoo. I've agreed to go to a movie with her ... which may be a big mistake. She's 36, and has an 11 year old son. Shit, she was my age when she had him. This can't end well.
Josh came over last night and we played the CSI: Miami drinking game. Our rules as follows:
Take one shot if:
~David Caruso stands with his hands on his hips, clad in sunglasses and a creepy stare
~Emily Proctor is wearing a white tank top and has a gun
~All or part of a victim or weapon is ingested by an animal
~You get to see ballistics gel
~You see one of those gory "here's what happened on the inside" shots
Take three shots if:
~Emily Proctor is wearing a white tank top, and is firing into ballistics gel
~David Caruso assumes his aforementioned posture, and then say something really, really stupid (like a horrible pun)
We were going to add more, but with just those we polished off half a bottle of vodka. I think my liver is going to develop a hatred of Monday nights. But at least we got to watch it in style. Got my new 50" DLP HDTV and a HDTV receiver. So even I could see the trace amounts of blood in the tire treads.
That, and it's fucking fantastic to watch porn on.
So I figured I can write here a bit. Couldn't hurt. I need a place to bitch and vent anyways.
It's day seven of our siege against Hewlitt-Packard. Our core routing switch is an HP 9315, and it's all fucked up. They insist it's a software configuration problem, we know it's not, but they refuse to even come out and look at it. Even though we have a support contract. Fuckers.
Well in the neverending search for true love / poontang I keep getting IM's from this chick on Yahoo. I've agreed to go to a movie with her ... which may be a big mistake. She's 36, and has an 11 year old son. Shit, she was my age when she had him. This can't end well.
Josh came over last night and we played the CSI: Miami drinking game. Our rules as follows:
Take one shot if:
~David Caruso stands with his hands on his hips, clad in sunglasses and a creepy stare
~Emily Proctor is wearing a white tank top and has a gun
~All or part of a victim or weapon is ingested by an animal
~You get to see ballistics gel
~You see one of those gory "here's what happened on the inside" shots
Take three shots if:
~Emily Proctor is wearing a white tank top, and is firing into ballistics gel
~David Caruso assumes his aforementioned posture, and then say something really, really stupid (like a horrible pun)
We were going to add more, but with just those we polished off half a bottle of vodka. I think my liver is going to develop a hatred of Monday nights. But at least we got to watch it in style. Got my new 50" DLP HDTV and a HDTV receiver. So even I could see the trace amounts of blood in the tire treads.
That, and it's fucking fantastic to watch porn on.