The Haircut. Day Two.

So I was walking down the hall by my office this morning, and one of the guy's I work with was just heading out the door towards the elevators.

"Susan!"

I leaned back and poked my head around the corner to where he had walked back in the door.

"Where did all your hair go?!"

...

Yup. I guess it is that short.

This is why I never get haircuts.

Since when does "trim" mean "hack several inches off my hair, please?"

So I'm left standing in front of the bathroom mirror, willing my hair to grow back.

Sigh.

Moments from a lunch conversation:

"So I was reading this book, and it had this battle with a red dragon, and it shot four fireballs..."
"What?"
"I know! Everyone knows red dragons can only shoot three fireballs a day!"

"Mr. Roark from Fantasy Island was such a pimp."

"At least we aren't as bad as Star Wars geeks. Debating whether a wookie can take on Bobba Fett, or why a jedi light saber can't pierce his armor."
"Light saber's can't pierce Bobba Fett's armor?"
"No! It's made of this special metal and it deflects light saber blows."
"Are you sure?"

"I heard someone ask the other day whether the Empire or the Starfleet Academy provides better training."
"Well, the Empire doesn't count because all the storm troopers were clones so you only need to train one."
"They were not clones!"
"They were!"
"What basis is there for that? I want something from the movies, not from a book."
"They were totally clones!"

I wonder sometimes, what exactly it is that non-geeks talk about at lunch?

Yes, I've been slacking my blog lately. Bad Susan! In lieu of updating my site, I've been squiring my parents around Austin, enjoying their company, hosting nine people for Thanksgiving, and scrambling to finish a bundle of work. At least I had reasons!

In other news, I read the following in a story on the Bush 'victory' today -

The announcement set off wild celebrations in Austin, Texas, and at a hotel where Republicans had gathered in Washington.

I drove past the governor's mansion this afternoon. There were roughly ten people outside the gate, and a gaggle of satellite vans and press. I can only imagine that quote means the 300 members of the press corps who have been stuck sitting outside the mansion all cried out in unison, "We get to get out of here!" and cracked open a few cases of Shiner.

I, on the other hand, could really give a crap anymore who 'wins'. Bleah.

Bruce brought up a good point tonight. He said that I'm implying that my life is ever normal. He's right. It isn't.

It's wacky, goofy, tiring, stressful, beautiful, more fun than one person deserves, sleepy, fantastic, glamorous, boring, cluttered, wonderful, tasty, bemusing, sexy, wrong, cosmic, and chaotic.

And I wouldn't trade a second of it for anything in the world.

So, um, anyone out there know how to remove hair dye from a wood floor?

Or, perhaps, anyone know how to re-stain a wood floor?

I'm just, um, asking.

Grrr.

Did I say 72 hours?

I meant December.

My life will be back to normal in December.

I think.

At least I may be caught up on my sleep by then.

72 hours. In 72 hours my life will be back to some semblance of normal.

On a nice note, I bought my ticket back to Mooville today. Going to visit the old cattle-stomping grounds. Not that we stomped cattle. Much. It'll be nice to see the old gang though. I'm quite looking forward to it.

Nearly eight hours later, I have 30 seconds to sit down at my computer and realize that I put in UBB code instead of HTML when I posted this morning.

Sigh.

It's George W's fault, you know.

Diary of an Election Night (Or, The Last Two Ended Before the Bars Closed, Damnit!)

12:00 AM - Very sleepy. Gaze longingly at bed. Decide that you will not forgive yourself if you stayed up to watch Princess Diana's funeral, but can't manage to keep your eyes open to find out you own freaking President. Watch CNN correspondents try to come up with things to talk about after all of their special guests and panelists have gone home.

1:00 AM - Bring alarm clock out to living room, set up nest on couch, grab cat and settle in to wait..

2:00 AM - Be woken up by the sound of someone on CNN saying, "That's it! George W. Bush is the next President of the United States of America!" Growl. Go back to sleep.

3:00 AM - Wake up in horrible pain. Try to remember what you ate in the last 10 hours that has come back to kill you. However, don't think to turn on the TV.

8:30 AM - Wake up. Turn on TV. Blink. Blink again. Briefly think, "How can Al be winning if George already did?" Blink.

What do I live under a rock? I am so unhip. I didn't realize video cards were up to the Voodoo 4, let alone a Voodoo 5.

Man, do I need to upgrade my computer.

It has been pouring steadily outside now for about four hours. I've got all the windows open, and a nice breeze is meandering about the house, thumbing through mail-order catalogs on the table next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I keep thinking Chet has jumped up on the table next to me, but it's only the catalogs. Every once in awhile, I tune in to the sound of the rain and realize my whole house sounds like a shower.

Odd trivia bit: Houses in Austin tend to lack gutters. The rain just slides off the shingles in a nice cascade. I thought it seemed odd when I moved here, but now I rather like it. When it rains like this, my front porch looks out from behind a waterfall.

The chaos, stress, and fourteen hour days will continue just a bit longer. The end is in sight. There's a sliver of light peeking in the end of the tunnel.

Tonight, however, it's raining, the breeze is blowing, and all is calm and quiet in Austin.