I used to blog. Blog alot. Years even. About myself mostly. But lately that's gone by the wayside, but my desire to write never has. And now I'm going to write letters to my girlfriend and soulmate while she's on assignment. It's like a blog, but better because people care. She's a cool chick. She's read my whole blog. She's the introspective type too and the type into capturing moments - like she's saved every text we've ever shared. And work e-mail too I think. She's my other half. But it's not like a 2 halfs of an apple coming together, or even a yin and a yang. It's more like she's the plutonium to my flux capacitor.

My girlfriend left today to go work overseas for a while. It has made me the saddest boy. I want to see her on Skype ASAP for virtual kisses. I am a sad boy.

I've loved the NFL since around '93 when I'd watch our VHS recordings of the Cowboys on repeat. I kind of owe my stepdad for wanting to record these things, since I'm not even sure if he was the hugest poor football fan. I think he just liked to get free stuff on tape: re: every movie we ever rented ever.

He'd rent it, play it, while having another VCR hooked up recording it. In the end, I don't think it was worth it. We probably didn't watch Cops and Robbersons any more than once, and you can't even show off to your friends that you have 300+ movies, recorded on shitty quality VHS. Especially in hindsite.

But my time dedicated to watching football and listening to its analysis (8+ hours a day) has paid off, as I've won the weekly NFL pool 2 straight times. That makes 4 years of me winning atleaset once (which covers the whole years' entrance fees).

I like getting handed monies for how good I am at guessing winners. It's even easier than getting handed monies for delivering sex to 50+ year old ladies. I don't even have to brush my teeth.

I hope this good work (I refuse to call it luck) streak will continue so I can buy all the stuff I want (re: all the stuff I already have).

The weekend is the refuse of the great and tired.
The one solace I always give myself is that I'm not so old yet.
I had a training thing with people of all ages including in their 50s!
And they seem content in the moment to still talk about their opinions and make jokes.
They might not be as fit as they used to be (or maybe they never were), but their lives are still good enough.
So, when I'm 50, I can look back at the current times or even my 30's and be like: what a silly kid I was then, at least none of it really made a difference.
And that's a large comfort I think.
Even a lot of cool people on TV shows were in their 30's with problems. You're not supposed to have it all figured out yet, probably.
If you had everything sorted in your mid 20's what's the point of the next 40 years?

Ah, Sunday night. My longtime nemesis.
Since the days of yore, I have fought thee.
You bring depression, introspection, internal mayhem of the highest magnitude.
As elementary school faded into cubicle life,
Your power only intensified.

Sunday evening.
Harbinger of things to come.
The Grim Reaper of Nights.

I've now worked at my work for over 15% of my life. That's pretty substantial. Imagine if 15% of your arm was chopped off. Not pretty. Trust me. I saw this circus accident once. A sword swallowing bear and a sword swallowing man should never be in the same vicinity. Tragedy.

So, I've been in the same cubicle for over 3 years. This is rare, as many other people have been moved at one time or another. Not me. They know better. You don't wake the sleeping giant.

If I was a giant, that'd be cool, but I'd rather be a giant bear. Except with leather skin instead of fur. Fur often gets a bunch of crap in it and it's hard to get out. Even dogs end up with those little sticky-balls and then gunk. Not hygenic. And they don't even have hands to use soap and a towel to clean themselves. I guess evolution wasn't working towards hygiene.

This past week though, there was a catastrophe. My computer harddrive broke. I sensed it the day before, when my computer started going ultra-slow mode. I was all like "Give me more RAM!" and the IT department was like, "We don't have any RAM sticks." and I'm like "Damn it! How am I supposed to work in these conditions!"

So I had to wait 5 days for a replacement computer. By stroke of luck, cube neighbor was still on honeymoon so I used his cube. The moral: I sat in another cubicle for about a week. Ruining my streak. I don't like it any more than you do.

Then they gave me another computer and it's rubbish and I almost went mental and cried and blah blah and I'll get a proper NEW computer next week. Phew. You don't expect a brain surgeon to work with safety scissors, do you?

I'm quite pleased with how my fantasy team turned out this year. (Atleast in the league I care about, aka the auction league, where some jelly beans are at stake, and the opposition is infused with fierceness).

I have played fantasy since atleast 8th grade when the GOLDEN BATTED WHOPPERS (all caps, internet penalty) ruled the baseball world.

Auctions are the fun stuff I love and I got Ray Rice & Roddy White for like half my cap and then Dez Bryant and Ahmad Bradshaw and Jermichael Finley!

I have Longhorn legend and childhood hero Ricky Williams too! Yes, someone actually older than me that still plays.

It is sad rooting for kids younger than me, but I'll get used to it.

This year marks the first year that people born in 1990s are playing in the NFL. I'm so old, I barely remember the 90s. I think Hootie and the Blowfish were there. Maybe Jesse & The Rippers. Ronald Reagen was Czar of Alberta, Canada.

First week of NFL is always the best because then I know what I'm doing the next 20 weeks. During football season, I can't remember what I did on non-football season Sundays, and during non-football season Sundays, I can't remember what football is like.

In the land of computers, the dude with 2 monitors is king.

As I suspsected long ago, my productivity has increased 37% with 2 monitors, and I have to print way less things - saving trees.

I caught another garter this weekend because I'm so cool. This time, I didnt do any fighting for it either.

My cube neighbor was doing the tossing, and I knew he'd give it some good strength and it would go a bit to the right. So it just flew into my hand. It's like a blur. It's like the nineties because I can barely remember how it happened.

Maybe one day I'll have a job where I have to wear a suit all the time.

I saw a guy today with a purple suit but I don't want his job. Because I think it's mostly at night, and outdoors (alleys), and involves intimidation and violence against women. But that might be stereotyping.

and thanks for all the fish!

A great man once said...
Life Sucks and Then You Die.

There are easier ways to kill me. Lay a picture of my dead son next to a sharp knife. Unbury my childhood dog right under that old burch tree and supply a noose. Play me 4 minutes of my ex-wife's 2010 Family Christmas DVD. Any of that.
But knocking down my door, coming in with 2 pistols. Not going to kill me tonight.