... crummy night last night... Me, mr.happy having a bad night. Who'd a'guessed. So now I'm yawning away at my desk wearing my snow pants... Ok, they're not snow pants, but they swish-swish like snow pants. Oh yea, I found a new pocket! seriously.
I've mentioned my team before... four guys that kill the whole stereo-type deal with geeks;
one's a hunter-angler dude (very at home with enormous road-kill strapped to the hood of the car), another is likely to 'snatch the grasshopper' in that FUN for him is 'shin conditioning in his kung-fu class, another is a throw-back disco star french single dude (I'd wager he has major polyester blends in the closet) and the last - soon to be next, next, next to last (team just keeps growing) has a lock on the global award for 'biggest outie bellybutton' - no kidding! (gag)
All are great guys and I have loads of respect for 'em - but that will in no way inhibit the way in which I USE them for my own selfish LJ ends....
All that said, lets get back to the pocket. I notice this cool pocket slightly to-the-back of my left pant leg (I'm essentially draped in velcro and re-tooled parachutes) and people wanna tell me what it's for. Hunter assures me its for a knife or spare 45 clip. Kung-fu calls it stupid (he has two such pockets!), disco say's it's for a comb and outtie... I ran away before he could voice an opinion.
The pocket remains unused! I neither shoot guns, cut things bigger than my finger nails, or comb my hair and my b-button is fine where it is thank you very much.
Today I'm going to have lunch with an old friend that is (hopefully) gonna hit the street to get re-employed. We both worked together at a fed office and since I left - after 14 years (my own little blaze of fire... ummm I said that I'd talk about that eh... I ought to - it's a fun story full of pain, suffering, tears and fire) he's had a hard time of it. Prototypically useless little french guy from gatineau - REMEMBER that word "Gatineau" * - was my friends manager and things have gone poorly - or at least it appears that it has gone poorly, illustrated by the story I have heard of ergonomic chairs flying over mouse-maze office baffles, four letter words and awe inspiring threats of physical violence. Today I meet up with my dude to see if calmness will visit his sole in a better phuking job in the private sector.
GATINEAU: (Taken from the Galactic Encyclopedia) 'gat-in-o' proper-noun for the place where all french speaking, marginally attractive strippers come from (aren't they all 'marginally attractive'?) and boys in men's bodies that drive T-roof (open in winter) Z-28s wearing open chest shirts, glue on chest hair and costume gold chains.