I am here to confirm the rumors, and announce that yesterday I turned older. Of course, I turned exactly the same amount older this morning as I did last morning, but it’s not every day I get cards and chocolate chip cheesecake and steak on the barbie and Oberon (yummy) and a big vat of flowers.

And I got these bouncing tits.

The new puppy, Dark Lord Schmumpins, is warming up to the idea of interacting with people very….slow….ly. He has some wonderful features, such as being totally housebroken, and he’s got a fuzzy lil tummy and big paws (frito feet) and floppy ears. But he’s the most skittish dog ever. He will whine overnight to go piddle, but when I open the door, he just stands there. Takes a step toward the door, sniffs a little, and runs back into the kitchen. Comes back around, rinse, repeat ad infinitum. I think I’ve had to carry him outside 3x more than he’s actually locomoted himself. Cuteness will let him get away with much, but it has limits.

As I write this, there is a tornado watch in the area (there is much groaning, because it’s not enough to cancel school). I have never witnessed a tornado, but have a storm-chasing friend who has. It’s nothing for him to hop in the car with his laptop, cell phone, a buddy, and go 400 miles at 20 minutes’ notice. At first, he went chasing without finding – and had elaborate plans for a tornado attractant (outfitting his Buick to look like a rolling trailer park). He brings back videos and stories of these unpredictable, devastating events, and while I appreciate his geekly immersion in his hobby, I have no interest in seeing a tornado in person.

I leave you with this advice, since I’ve reached an age where wisdom should flow like similes from a bucket of metaphors: Never underestimate the PITA factor when negotiating your next work assignment.

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