Finally.  A year after the proposal.  Finally, after three changes in date, time and venue.  Finally, after finding a wedding cake that didn’t resemble spiderman.  Finally, after managing to locate and fit into a sexy yet firm suitable set of wedding underwear.  Finally, we did it.  We got hitched!

Of course, in our typical style, anything less than complete and utter chaos, followed by family drama and tradgedy.

I must say, my bridesmaids were stunning and wear sexy gowns.  Nice tits, ladies!  I couldn’t say it in the church, because well, it was church.  But dang, everybody’s boobs looked superb in those dresses! 

The boys didn’t look shabby either.  Ain’t it funny how a man in a classic black tux can make a girl weak in the knees?

It was actually beautiful, other than the bridesmaids walking to “Pray for the Dead and the Dead will Pray for you”.  Long story.  I stress here and now, that it was an ooopsie on our part, as we didn’t listen to the concerto in full.  We thought, “Oh that’s beautiful” when we listened to it the first time and turned it off with listening to it all the way through.  So, two of the bridesmaids are walking to lovely strums of a classic string quartet, when it goes into the death march.  Sweet Jesus!  I’m back there yelling to Val, “Oh shit! Oh Shit!!!!!  Cut it off, cut it off!!” 

Which he did, and we went on.  It was at this point I had decided I either need an ample amount of Jack Daniels right then and there or a mega dose of Xanax.

Deep breath.  The Wedding March is going. Walking with Daddy (who by the way was on his best behavior and didn’t cause any shit whatsoever). I got up there to my man looking dapper and all of his groomsmen. 

Ok, so here we go.  Daddy gave me away and there I stood looking into the eyes of the man I was about to marry.  I never in my life imagined that I would have been nervous.  But I was.  And I was about to cry.  We stood with everyone looking on… ohhhhh, the sweet, happy couple gazing at one another as “At Last” by Etta James played on.

Who would have ever thunk it?  My friggin shoes started to hurt like hell and I was about to cry again.  We manage to exchange vows with me only tripping once over my tongue and having to start over.  Queue the second song, “If You Ever Have Forever In Mind.”  By this time, the butterflies have turned to dragons and I’m so nervous that I can feel myself turning red as a chipotle pepper getting over-ripe in the sun.  I look at the pastor and say, “Is there anyway we can get him to turn this song off??”

“You really want the song cut?” He asked, looking at me like I’m crazy and then to Tony for reassurance that my head wasn’t going to spin 360 like something from the Exorcist.

“Yah, and the next one too.  My feet are killing me and I’m turning red.”

“You got it.”  He said.

He got Val’s attention. The music was cut. Moving right along. 

We are now husband and wife.  He grabbed my hand.  He pulled me close and laid the nicest kiss on me.  Dang.  We’re in church here, pal, and you’re really turning me on.

The only mishap was Lil T coming up to us mid-vows and yelling “Look Nana!  Motorcycle.” When he figured out everybody was lauging at him and saying, “Oh how cute.”, he took off. 

So, not a single mishap that was YouTube worthy happened, dammit!  I was just waiting for somebody to do something stupid.

We got it done!  The ceremony itself was beautiful.  Nobody burst into flames from getting too close to the unity candle, although Julie was standing pretty close and she has that sexy long hair. Nobody slid and fell off the stage, passed out or puked… 

I was tickled as pink as pink gets to see so many people showing so much love by being there to see this circus.  But as hectic as wedding days seem to get, I didn’t get a chance to sit and visit as I was being pulled in fourteen directions at once.  Not complaining, just the way it is.

We were in the midst of finding the photographer to make pictures after the ceremony, when we found out that the photographer had, in fact, left.  He had said to somebody, can’t remember who at this point, that he had plenty of pictures.

Um. What?!?!  I believe I’ll be the one to tell you when you’ve got enough damn pictures and when you can sit down and have cake, asshat!  But, I didn’t get the chance.  He was gone.  Must have needed a beer or a shot of tequila or something.  Whatever.  It’s my fault for putting my trust in my dear father’s friend to do anything remotely important.

That’s when SUPERMAN appeared!  He was like an angel sent to save my day!  I bet you’re wondering who by now, eh?

Well, it’s our own Mark Steel!  I was about to cry and there he was, yanking the camera out of the bag, snapping pictures of the wedding party, the reception, the friends, the family.  My friggin hero, I shit ya not!

Ok, so what else.  The reception was gorgeous!  Well, the cake started to melt and the topper kept falling off because Robyn is hot as hell and she walked by it.

I pitched the bouquet, and Robyn snatched it up.  As if she needs it (wink).  She’s next anyway.  And then Curtis (Robyn’s man) yoinked the garter!  So, if it wasn’t already happening, it’s bound to happen now! 

We ate cake…

drank wedding punch…

Posed, posed, posed… pitched the bouquet…

flipped the garter…

…and decided it was time to cruise on outta there. 

We proceeded to the truck to find it tastefully decorated with multiple condoms and window chalk.

It was then that the family drama ensued.  Amanda (my brat) broke asshat on Amy (his brat), and they commenced in a huge argument which culmunated in Amanda throwing her shoes and running into the woods and Amy peeling out of the church parking lot like her ass was nothing less than on fire.

For hell’s sake.  Please just friggin’ shoot me now!  I’ve waited all of my life for this here and day all these people want to piss all over it!

Anyway.  Mark, Becky, Olga and Holly got me some good pix, so regardless of the drunk monkey camera guy, I got my memories.

     In case anyone was wondering, yes, it really happened.

     At precisely 2PM on Saturday, September 29th, 2007, our Virulent Virtuoso of Vagary (and Prominent Proponent of Piratry!), Ms. Diva Howe, finally tied the knot with the love of her life.

     The Great Underwear Crisis was solved.  And no, there was no Spiderman cake.

     And from the looks of it, Tony is actually able to handle her.

     And so, Diva, Tony, I give you two bits of wisdom as you proceed down your road together:

1. Don’t sweat the small stuff.
2. It’s all small stuff.

     *cheers!*

     Well, sometimes, all it takes is a Post-It note stuck to your monitor when you come back to your desk…

     And when you combine that with everything else, well, that’s when it’s obvious that you’ve really got something really special. 

     So between Work and Wildcat, I haven’t been around much lately.  Go figure!

     It’s no big secret — err, well, maybe it is — that I’ve been doing IT work since 1986.  Not your average IT guy, mind you, but the type who gets a Monday morning call, gets on a plane, and goes and fixes something at a semiconductor manufacturing plant in Malaysia, then gets back in time to have a beer with the Pirate Chicks™ on Wednesday night.
     In and out, real fast, get paid.  That’s the way I like it.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPM7jdE7gWs)

     No, I didn’t mean like that, although, I have had my days…

     Last year, I hooked up with the owner of a business of the Adult variety.  She marketed my skills pretty well (no, seriously, not like that!), and I ended up working on a few websites and servers which I probably never would have had they not been so professional.  I mean, these are business people, first and foremost, and if you can keep your head around nudity and porn and do your job, then you’re going to be highly regarded.
     And so it was today that I ended up working on two servers for one such customer, and learning a hosting control panel that I’d never seen before, all the while brushing up on the foreign language it was written in.
     A good day.  A busy day.  And paid in full for my services already, which is almost unheard of these days.

     I was supposed to pick up the Wildcat earlier today, but circumstances beyond our control prevented it.
     Since I’d already scheduled around it, however, it gave me time to sit down and catch up on what used to be my regular blog reads.  One of them pointed me towards a “new” blogger, Gina at Life’s Short, where I found something that had me laughing my ass off for a solid half hour.

     I expect great things from this one. 

     What the Wildcat and I had going as, “Hey, come down for the weekend!” has turned into “Hey, come down for a week, and get the second weekend for free!”  Driving alone back to Knoxville is getting more and more difficult.

     I didn’t pull out the camera much this past week or so, although, we still did plenty. Friday before last, we hung out at Buffalo Wild Wings and had a blast, thanks in no small part to good company … and lots of beer.

     Eventually, Zacque showed up, although it was fifteen short minutes after Mushy left. We headed over to Baileys where we attempted to hook him up with several interested waitresses.
     “I have a date at 9PM, ya assholes!”
     “Go, Zacque! Have another beer…”
     No arm-twisting required. *snicker*

     Saturday, we took a trip through my favorite place in the world (I’m not telling where!  Nyah nyah nyah!) checking out the scenery and history.
     Since we’d both enjoyed travelling around where her family had grown up the week before, it was natural to return the favor.  We even walked through a few graveyards while trading crazy-family stories.
     Sometimes, even if you’re not close with your family, there are places you can go and still feel close to your roots.

     Later that night, we ended up hanging out with a friend listening to a musician, and had an amusing conversation.
     “How old is she?” she asked.
     “Ahhh, 28,” I replied.  “Why?”
     “She’s so sweet,” she smilled.  “I thought maybe I should introduce her to one of my sons.  She’s so sweet, so I thought she was younger.”
     “Yeah, she’s good like that,” I smiled back, thinking how great it was that she approved of my friends as much as they approved of her.
     “Hmm,” she mumbled.  “And how old is Zacque?”
     “Why, you want to introduce him to one of your sons?”
     Uproariously laughter ensued.

     So nice to be with someone who shares my sick, twisted sense of humor.

     The rest of the week was much the same.  Sunday we were out again.
     ”You know,” she says.  “You really do flirt a lot…”
     My head went, ‘Was I…? Did I…? Errr… Oh, shit, here it comes… ‘
     “…and it’s fine to window shop, as long as you don’t pull your credit card out,” she continued.  She smiled, and gave me a big hug and a kiss.
     That was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever heard. 

     She’s meeting the people I consider family and loving ‘em, customers, friends I’ve known for years, and proving to be every bit as adaptable as I am.
     She’s just as comfortable walking through ticks and briars to find someplace neither of us have ever been, sitting in a Five Star restaurant with wine and too much silverware, going for a swim in a secluded mountain stream, having a conversation with an important client, or knocking back beer and fried food at a football party.

     I was joking around with a friend last year, and said, “Ya know, the kind of woman I need is the one who’ll check me for ticks, and say, ‘Ooh, there’s one! Lemme get him!’ and will actually do it…”
     And hearing, “Die, you damn thing!” after that is just icing on the cake.

     But it’s definitely more fun to check each other for ticks when you don’t actually have any…

I am sitting here at my computer. The past two weeks have come and gone, thank God. My head is still spinning from the last 5 days. You know, I feel like Dorothy in that old farm house, when the tornado sucked it up and threw it to munchkin land?

We may not have landed in munchkin land, but the house seriously looked like a tornado had whipped through. Crap scattered everywhere. At one point, a body would actually be considered lucky to make it through the down stairs area without losing a big toe to ill placed boxes and unsituated furniture.

I honestly have no idea where all the stuff we have came from. I have little recollection of purchasing it at all. It’s like the “Here, Have Loads of Useless Shit”-Fairy came and did a dance at my old place.

We’re in our new place now. *YAY!* And everything seems to be falling into place and setting up nicely. The new hacienda is a rancher with a fully finished basement. It’s huge, and I get lost in it occassionally if the lights are off. The upstairs is 1150 sq. ft. This would be the area designated for children and midgets under the age of, um let’s say 35.

The downstairs area is the same 1150 sq. ft. area, but is set up to be our lair. How cool is that? It has our bedroom, which is plenty big for the bed and furniture. There is a closet that, if I had to, I could easily live in — I think its 12′x14′. Finally, a space big enough for all of my shoes!!!! There is a bathroom that, truth be told, is a sucky little spot and needs to be bigger. There is the den. It’s a huge space that looks half empty even with the furniture in it.

I’ve decided that since I like to have my share of spirited beverages, that we need a bar in the one corner that makes the room so empty. Liven it up a wee bit. Slap some mirrors behind it, a disco ball…. will go great with the existing stripper pole… hahahaha.

---

The kiddies haven’t really done shit yet since the move. They have social agendas and activities to tend to, don’t ya know. Amanda has put a few things away, but there is no way to walk through her room unless you are ready to take your life into your own hands. The girl has more stuff than I remember seeing before we moved. Her Beta fish has lived on the bathroom counter for days, and is lucky that kitty is feeling so wimpy. Under normal circumstances said fish would have been a kitty snack quicker than a fat kid could snatch the last chocolate chip cookie from the cookie jar.My kitty, Isis, has been severely traumatized by this whole moving of the residence. She has been hiding inside one of the dressers in my bedroom for 3 days now. When she comes out to eat or piss, she does the low crawl. I’ve not seen her walk like the bad-ass she really is since we did the kitty transport on Friday.

Hopefully she’ll realize she is still queen and act as such instead of mopping the floor with her well fed belly.

---

My grand-booger, Tyler, adjusted very well to the move. He found his room. He seeked out and destroyed. The Hot-Wheel bomb blew up in his room. He came to stay with his Nana and Papa on Saturday night. He did good. He wandered around the house. The upstairs and the downstairs areas both go in a big circle, so he ran circles round and round with his cars.

He did good until bed time.

Now at the old house, he had a baby jail to sleep in because he didn’t have his own room and there was no room for him a bed. So baby jail it was. And he did well in it. But he’s getting to be a big boy and we decided that he’s gotta have a big boy bed at our pad. Ok, so, the boy kisses everybody goodnight and we go off to bed. I figure I’ll lay with him in his new bed until he falls off to sleep. It’s way after his bed time and he’s bushed so it won’t take long for him to drift off, right? Uh, no.

He keeps saying “My bed, Nana.”

I told him, “Yah, baby. This is your big boy bed.”

“No, Nana. My bed.” He says again.

“Show Nana what you want, boy. It’s late and your ass needs to be asleep.”

So, he gets out of the bed, and drags me by my pinkie finger to the livingroom where his baby jail was neatly piled under half a ton of crap. He stands there tugging at it. And it hits me, he needs his lil bed. So, we dig it out and take it in his room. It was like his little security thing. Him needed to have his familiar bed. Him also got away with filling it up with hot wheels and other random toys. He went right to sleep once he was put in it, fists still holding tight to his cars.

---

My only request in the choice of new house was that it have a functional, user-friendly kitchen. Diva likes to cook, but cooking in a kitchen that is ill-set is nothing short of a pain in the arse. This kitchen whips ass! The only thing I want to change is simple. I want to slap an island right in the middle. There is plenty of room and I want it. I want it! I want it! I want it! I’m about to break Veruca Salt (you know, that little bitch from Willy Wonka) if I don’t get my island!

---

We are trying to adjust to having a shower the size of a broom closet in the bathroom in our private, adult only lair. Tony’s a big boy. He’s tall and he’s big. Which means he feels super confined in this thing. He’s actually come out of it fighting mad a couple of times.

My biggest issue is trying to shave my legs in there. Sweet Jesus! I bend over toward the door and I nearly drowned. So I turn around and bend over the other way and I kept knocking the door open with my ass. Something’s gonna have to give there, not sure what or how. Maybe rip the shower out and put a nice, big garden tub in? I vote for that.

---

All in all, this has been an easy move. The lead up to it sucked a big ass, but now that I’m able to go into cruise mode, it’s not so bad. I’m hoping to have the feeling back in my hands soon. Painting over the eccentric colors I just had to have in the old place proved to be an arm/hand killer.

Hopefully once it’s unpacked and perfecto I can take some pictures of the stripper pole and other noteworthy spots in the house.

     So for a little over a month, my Kentucky Wildcat and I have been hanging out every weekend — and sporadic weekdays — spending a lot of time together and having a blast.  Last weekend, however, we had to skip our normal routine due to the craziness of every day life; I was hard at work until Sunday afternoon with a large-scale server consolidation, and couldn’t quit babysitting it all long enough to have any semblance of “normal.”
     When I finished late Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t take it anymore.  “Since next weekend is Labor Day weekend, whatcha feel like doing for a week?  I mean, I have to work, still, but we’ll have plenty of time to spend together if ya wanna…”
     Fortunately, she’s as spontaneous as I am…

     Without complaint, she sat idly by with me the entire week as I answered phones, fixed remote servers and did some on-sites.  The on-sites were the best: she chatted with customers while I fixed their problems, which took a lot of pressure off of me as I tried to get things done quickly yet precisely.

     Tuesday, for instance, a customer asked her if she liked baseball and handed her two tickets the next-to-the-last Smokie’s game.  We had a blast, neither of us having been to see a baseball game in years.
     Of course, the opposition team, the Chattanooga Lookouts, totally sucked.  Their fast pitcher had his speed down pat, but just couldn’t hit a strike-zone.  The most amusing part of the game came when said Lookouts pitcher messed up during Colvin’s bat in the second inning… He hit the catcher square in the nuts at full speed:

     The next pitch, Colvin had to jump out of the way to keep from being hit, himself.  The catcher was a little more reluctant to rely on his cup against his teammate’s 90mph onslaught:

     After three Balls, two fouls and no strikes, Colvin finally knocked a good midfield, but was taken out at first base.

      Thursday, after a Blount County onsite, we ended up heading to Cades Cove.  “I’ve never seen a wild bear!” she told me.
     “Oh, don’t worry — I’ll find ya one!” I assured her.  I wondered whether or not I’d overpromised, because quite honestly, seeing a bear around here is a special treat.  Still, I kept in mind that I’ve been lucky as far as bear sightings go, even managing to catch photos of them during the snowy mid-winter when everyone tells me, “They’re hibernating now!”
     The heavy afternoon rain didn’t let up until we were halfway through the park, but we still managed to see plenty of foraging wildlife.
     She was amazed at the size of the wild turkeys here:

     But the best was yet to come.
     Just before the turn-off to go to the old Abram’s Falls trail, there were two bucks hidden in the high grass to our left, unafraid even as close as fifteen feet away:

     This 10-pointer probably would’ve field-dressed at around 150 pounds —a prize deer for Cades Cove.  More amazing is that even at the end of August, he hadn’t bothered to rub the velvet from his antlers — nor had his much smaller friend, an 80-pound spike.
     We turned into the road to the Abram’s Falls trail, and noticed tons of butterfles stealing nectar from the local foliage:

     We continued around the loop, walked through the old town (the mill was open!), and spotted a young doe just behind the General Store.  She seemed relatively uninterested in the people milling about, even as she stretched to eat the tender leaves of the rain-soaked maple above her.
     As we left, we noticed another large group of deer in the field behind the restrooms.  They were impossible to count, as some would lie down as others stood up to graze.

     Continuing towards the park exit, past the homesteads, I pulled to the right and asked her to take a look to her right.  Amazed, she turned to see a teenaged bear walking directly towards the car:

     The photo was taken as he rounded a log, less then six feet from our open window.  He continued towards the car, turning around the front and walking to the other side of the road.  We watched him for nearly fifteen minutes as he foraged.  Really cool.  :-)

     Finally, only a few hundred feet from the park exit, we had to stop for the wild turkeys in the road… Six of the largest wild turkeys I’ve ever seen, and I’ve definitely seen some whoppers over the years.  But these — my God! — were taller than the front of the car, and flapped their wings in disgust as we pulled close.
     Finally, they walked to the right, out of our way.  Just before I was able to pull past them, they darted quickly back across the road into the forest to our left.  From only a few feet away, we watched and photographed them.  Note their size compared to the fifty-foot trees next to them — we’re talking monster turkeys:

     Sunday night, we just had to go to Boomsday, especially given that I found us an unobstructed vantage point on the Calhoun’s balcony.  Nothing better than up-close-and-personal, ya know?

     Just before they started, I told her these were for her:

     [ Awww, isn't that sweet?  Thpft!  ] 

     Later Sunday night, we went to watch a band and met up with a few more friends.  (We hung out with several through the week, and had a great time.)

     On Monday, we reluctantly took the trip to take her back home.
     We stopped at the old Frostee Freeze Drive-In in Tazewell for lunch.  Hadn’t been there in maybe twenty-five years, and place is just as good as ever!

     When we got to Cumberland Gap, I thought, “Hey, wanna go hike through Cudjo’s Cave?”  Unfortunately, after we hiked nearly a mile through the nasty, post-rain heat and humidity, we found that that cave had been closed to the public for some time and renamed “Gap Cave.”  Fortunately, we were able to stand at the lower entrance to cool off.  The strong wind rushing out of the cave mouth stayed around 55 degrees — nothing beats natural air-conditioning!
     Along the trail, we found several fossils in iron-laden limestone, several large pieces of chert, obsidian and flint, and a couple bits of micah & quartz encrusted pumice.  Discounting the limestone, it actually seemed a bit odd to find volcanic rocks up there, but they definitely made us smile. 

     As we left, we drove through the town of Cumberland Gap.  It’s funny how we’d both grown up so close to it all of our lives, and never been.  It’s an idyllic small town.
     Although the layout is a bit more “general store” than “pharmacy,” Fuson’s Drug Store, started in 1921, still exists in all its Ice-Cream-and-Soda-Shop glory.  Want a Chocolate Coke or a Strawberry Malt?  Head on up… Good stuff.

     We spent the rest of yesterday driving around through history, enjoying our last bit of time together before next weekend.  We visited the place where she grew up, and talked back and forth about different things we enjoyed when we were kids.

     It was a hard ride back to Knoxville without her.

     I woke this morning missing the Hell out of her, so after a while, I gave her a call.  ”Hey, how about this weekend, I pick ya up on Thursday, instead?” I asked.
     “How about Wednesday?” she laughed.
     “Hmmm… Tuesday?”
     “Why don’t ya just come up now?”

     Life is good. 

     We both realize that there’s not a damn thing wrong with being impulsive, spontaneous, opening up and enjoying what life has to offer.  Seriously … what’s the point of growing up if you can’t enjoy it?

     Oh yeah … The best Labor Day ever. 

“She can’t remember a time
When she felt needed
If love was red then she was colour-blind
All her friends they’ve been tried for treason
And crimes that were never defined
— Savage Garden, “To the Moon and Back“

     Hey, it’s Monday NIGHT … I was busy!  Cut me some slack.

 1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate.

     There’s a nasty little thing that all of us get from time to time when we’re unhappy.  Instead of vocalizing what we’re upset about, we go off on everyone single person around us… And we just can’t accept or apologize for it.
     Some of us get over it… and some people don’t.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.

     I’m leaving my answer from last week, because, seriously, that’s a crock:

“I dug my key into the side
of his pretty little sup’ed up four wheel drive,
carved my name into his leather seat
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires…”
  — Carrie Underwood, “Before He Cheats“

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.

     I’m unhappy with my choice if business banking, Suntrust. 

     Suntrust are a bunch of asshats, and unfortunately, completely nameless because their so-called Customer Service department refuses to reveal anything anything more than how much they value me as a customer.  Of course, after saying that, and knowing they’re recorded, they take absolutely no responsibility for their actions, regardless of the fact that they’re not actually doing anything helpful or proactive when faced with what is an absolute catastrophe on their part.
     If I had one name, I’d make an Asshat of the Day post.  But they just won’t give me one…  Wonder why?

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.

     This weekend, I was repeatedly mauled by a Kentucky Wildcat.  Damages include many bruises, bite marks, scratches, sporadic blood loss, various serious abrasions, slightly seperated nose cartilage and swollen extremities.
     And I so look forward to the coming weekend…

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.

     Knock me down on the way to the goal, and you only strengthen my resolve.  The further down the hole I get, the harder I’ll dig, because I know damn well I’ll see the other side.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.

     There’s a place I wanna be… and I can see it… it’s so close… I’ve been there before, and I’ll get there again… and hopefully, just hopefully… Oh, man, that’ll make our lives so much easier… *grin*

Now it’s your turn.

You can take part in The Monday Melee, even make it a regular feature at your site by visiting The Monday Melee page and following the steps. Kick-start your brain on Mondays and meet other bloggers.

     My tires were less than a month old.

     The problem was covered under warranty, despite being maliciously vandalized.  ;-)  So basically, the only thing that I lost was a little sweat in putting the spare on.

     Busy day, too… I’ve done three quick-and-dirty onsites (and had the tire fixed between the last two — took them all of ten minutes), and I’m actually managing to fix these bloody notebooks faster than they’re coming in the door for a change.  Apparently, I’m one of the few people in town who can actually repair notebooks — which is ironic, since I hate them as much as I do.
     But, it gives me a sense of accomplishment to complete things, and properly… and I admit, even a bit of smug sense of satisfaction to have fixed whatever hardware or software problem there was after it’s been sent back to the manufacturer for warranty repair over and over and over and…

     And… Nah, nevermind.  More good stuff I won’t talk about… Maybe later.  *grin*

     Life kicks ass! 

     Saturday night, I realized something pretty important.  I’ve always said, I work hard, and play harder.  I try and balance all of my work stress and just have a good time when I’m not working.  As out of balance as things have been for the last three and half weeks, it’s no wonder I got a little moody.
     After pretty much getting as pissed off as I can get (which wasn’t that bad by many peoples’ standards — I try and keep my composure these days), I decided, “Life’s too friggin’ short for this crap.”

     Of course, by 10:30PM Saturday night, my mood had much improved thanks, in small part, to …

     … v2.0 (Now with Blonde Hair and a Perky, Bubbly Personality!).
     As did Sunday night’s entertainment: a fun young woman who seems to share a lot of my rather eccentric hobbies & tastes.  Who knew?

     You fall off, ya jump back on the horse.

     [ I said HORSE, Mushy... Jeez! ]

     All in all, the weekend made even this morning’s 5AM grind and subsequent Stress Hell seem not all that bad…

     Balance is a wonderful thing. 

Tip: Thanks, CP, D, N, J & C.  You girls really helped me outta my funk.  And, of course, Zacque, Julie and Diva for putting up with me through it.