The heading of this entry sums up 900 blog entries in 3 words.
I’ve got a really full mailbox that I don’t want to look at. We seem to have become a red-light district again, among other Rippin’ issues. Been there, thought we’d done that. Apparently if we can find a knight errant in the district, we can rise above again. [Sigh.] I will address these issues over the weekend. I sent in my vigilante crib sheet to them today, speaking of the Wisconsin devils. The things I do for love!
I also have to get Bump moving this weekend. I got back a bunch of responses on judging, plus I pulled down my master sheet to get ready for this year’s brouhaha, but I just can’t face it. Too busy at the Day Job, to tell you the truth. We’ve all been moving offices and responsibilities and whatnot, and I get home a bit depleted. Just enough time to read the latest 30 or 40 updates on Big Jake (and to wonder how I could have left that out of my day in the life entry). (Speaking of which, I’ve now broken the greatest hits over there on the right into serious and not serious. For the record, I have a lot of memorabilia on my bulletin board at the DJ, and the only (real) musician pinned up there is Liberace, on a card O’C sent me from Las Vegas (there are unreal musicians in some paintings). So any animus one perceives on my part against the man is entirely fictional. If O’C didn’t exist, I would have to invent him.) Anyhow, the tournament I hate the most is not Jake, of course, but Bump, but I do like getting alums back and whatnot. And soon enough it will all be over. There is that in its favor. But work on it now must, I fear, begin in earnest.
I think I’m going to get a Touch tomorrow. I need a tonic.
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