Thou Shalt Not Covet Parking Spaces

There are lots of places to park at my office. We've got a parking lot.

Obviously.

We've also got a parking garage, which comes in handy in bad weather, or on really hot days. It adds some extra steps to get to the front door of my building. But my Jeep is safe and sound and protected from the elements there.

Then, there are four very special parking places. They are right up against the building, two on either side of the front door. They used to be reserved for deliveries, but they are now up for grabs for anyone who works in the building.

If I get there early enough, I can get one of these parking spaces, and I am literally just a few feet from the building. It's genius.

Sometimes when I come back from lunch, if I didn't have one of these special spaces earlier, sometimes whoever had them in the morning has left and I can clain the spot for the afternoon.

Also genius.

But what ISN'T genius is this little Volkswagen Beetle that thinks that no matter who is already parked in all four of these spaces, it can squeeze in anyway.

There are FOUR spaces, clearly marked. But almost everyday, this tiny Beetly has wedged it's way in as though it is exempt from the rules of being completely in one of the four marked spaces.

There are days when it is sticking out completely, not even close to being in the space. It's like it thinks if it has one tire close to the line and the curb, that counts.

One day, there were two Range Rovers, an Expedition, and a Hummer parked in these four spaces, but that stupid Beetle driver wedged in the middle of all of them anyway.

It makes me angry.

Everytime I am able to get one of these spaces, I make sure I take up as much room as possible so that little Beetle can't possibly fit in between me and the car on the other side of me. But it never fails. That stupid Beetle gets in there anyway.

One day I'm going to catch who drives that dumb Beetle.

And I will glare menacingly from inside my Jeep at whoever it is. And then I'll park somewhere else, since the Beetle will be in my coveted parking space.

C.T.

The Worst Oscar Post Ever

I watched the Oscars tonight, while I painted stuff and did my taxes. I wasn't terribly interested in the whole thing this year. I don't think I saw any of the nominated movies.

So, this is pretty much the Worst Oscar Post Ever.

But I will say this. I need to get myself some of those silhouette dancer people to just hang out in my house and make themselves into different things for me. Like, when I come home from work. Yes, when I walk in the door from a long day at work, I'd like to see the silhouette of a dinner plate.

Or when my TV goes out, I'd like to see the silhoutte of the show I was watching when the TV went out.

Or when I wake up in the morning, I'd like to see the silhoutte of a big cup of coffee.

And you know, maybe when they aren't silhouetting for me, they could do some laundry or clean up around here. That'd be nice, too.

C.T.

One cheek to the wind

Pajamas are my favorite thing in the world to wear. Next to jeans. But if it came down to either jammies or jeans as the only thing left in the world to wear for the rest of my life, I would choose jammies. No question.

Just about every time I get home from somewhere, within minutes of stepping in the door I am in my jammies. I'm just all about comfort any time I can get it.

I was home for the day yesterday sometime around 7-ish. I spent most of the day lunching and shopping with my mom. It was fabulous. But shopping always wears me out. So naturally, I walked in the door and went straight to pjs for the rest of my evening.

I puttered around the house, working on some projects. I made breakfast for dinner, which I enjoy almost as much as wearing pjs all the livelong day.

Eventually it was time for bed, so I crawled into bed. But I noticed that my bum was cold, even though I was underneath all of my blankets. I thought this was probably odd, so I climbed back out of bed to check on my pjs to make sure they were in good working order.

They weren't.

I turned around and looked in the mirror only to notice a HUGE hole in the back of my flannels pants. And I don't mean just any hole. I mean I was staring at a whole complete butt cheek staring back at me in the mirror. it wasn't a hole. There was a whole chunk just GONE where jammy pants should have been.

No wonder my arse was cold.....

I busted out laughing HYSTERICALLY. I mean, how did this happen? Not only did I not notice I was getting a hole in my pants at any point in the evening, but I had quite likely been walking around my house all night with my arse cheek hanging out in the cold.

Holy cow, I'm getting old. Walking around with one cheek to the wind, and I had no idea.

Oh well. I put on new jammies and went to bed. But now I'm paranoid that ALL of my pants (work pants, jeans, sweatpants) have giant holes in them that I don't notice. Or maybe I showed up to work everyday last week with a cheek out for all to see, and I had no idea.

I hope someone will tell me if I do ever leave the house mooning the world, unbeknownst to myself.

C.T.

Time Travel

I like that clicking the "back" button in a web browser is like going back in time.

It takes you right back to where you were at the time that you last looked at any particular page. It takes you back to whatever you looked at before what you looked at last.

It's not the same as going to the same exact page again. Because if you click on the page again going forward, it refreshes the info. But if you go back to it, it's just the way it was minutes or hours ago when you were first there.

It's just like time travel.

Shut up.

C.T.

Eleven Nickels

I have a very important goal at work. I've had this goal for quite some time, but I have yet to accomplish it.

I want to buy a Coke from the machine using only nickels.

A Coke costs 55 cents, which is 11 nickels. You'd be surprised at how hard it is to collect 11 nickels. I am constantly facing setbacks.

I had nearly met my goal of 11 nickels a couple of months ago, when a coworker asked for 15 cents to add to her change to buy a Coke. Being the kindhearted person that I am, I gave her the change I had, which cleared out my stash of nickels. After all, I couldn't really tell her no, and then go buy my own Coke. I'd have to explain that I wanted to use 11 nickels to buy a Coke, and that's why I couldn't give her my nickels.

To the casual observer, that might not be worthy of denying someone else the ability to quench their thirst with a few of my nickels.

At first, it is easy to collect the nickels. Every time I put in 60 cents, I get a nickel back in change. Do this 11 times, and there's my 11 nickels.

But then there are always days when I have 50 cents and I just need that one nickel to get my Coke. So I have to use one of my nickels with my two quarters, and that takes away one of the 11 nickels.

It's a setback.

Then there are setbacks like today. I put in 60 cents for today's Coke, but the machine did not spit out a nickel for change! SO today's Coke cost me 60 cents, PLUS it did nothing to help my nickel stash.

Damn. Hell. Damn. (thanks Grandma)

I think I've got 4 nickels in my desk at work now. Slow and steady wins the Coke.

I will never give up.

11 nickels. One Coke.

C.T.

I hate eye doctors

I hate going to the eye doctor. But now that I have soft contacts, I have to go at least once a year. With the hard contacts I used to have, I would go as long as I could, until I just couldn't see anymore, or I lost or broke one. I could go YEARS without seeing the eye doctor.

I'm not afraid of the eye doctor , like in that episode of Friends when Rachel is afraid of the eye doctor. I just hate going. I have terrible eyesight. I've been going since I was a little kid. And it's just a hassle.

I'm down to my last pair of contacts. They are in my eyeballs right now, which totally freaks me out. If I rip one or lose one (or BOTH), then I'm blind until I can get more contacts. And it would be several days before new contacts would come in. I have glasses, but I can't see out of them well enough to use them at work or for anything productive.

I've been able to put off going to the eye doctor for a few weeks because I've just been so busy that I haven't had time to go. But this week is quieter, so I called today to make an appointment so that I could ease the anxiety I'm feeling about the potential I have for messing up my last good pair of contacts without any backups. Turns out, he could see me this afternoon, which worked out great because I wouldn't have time to dread going.

I have to sneak up on it because I just hate having to go. The less time I have to think about going to the appointment, the better off I am. I hate taking the time off from work. I hate getting there and having to take out my contacts and stare at the blurry spot at the other end of the room. I can NEVER see anything on it. I hate the puff of air test. I hate having my eyes dialted. And then I hate having to leave and wait for another few days before I have my contacts in hand.

Not to mention, I HATE having to spend that much money just on the gift of sight. There are THOUSANDS of other things I would prefer to spend my money on, rather than my eyeballs. Those of you who can see without help, you don't know how good you have it.

So, today I leave at 3:30 and head down to the eye doctor. I'm psyched up for it. I'll get there, I'll get it out of the way, and by next week I'll have a new stash of contacts. It will be all taken care of and I won't have to worry about it again until next year.

I get there and no one is at the front desk. I HATE having to wait. She finally shows up and I have to fill out paperwork again. Whatever.

While I'm filling that out, the receptionist casually happens to mention that while I am eligible today for new frames or contacts, I'm actually NOT eligible for another exam until March 1.

Huh? Today is February 20. So.... that's definitely not March 1. My last exam was January 13. This would be MORE than a year since my last visit, so why would I NOT be eligible for another exam today, if I AM eligible to order new contacts??? Why would I order more contacts if I'm not sure I would even be able to see out of them?

And why did she wait to tell me this very critical piece of information until I'm there in the office for the appointment? Like, maybe it would have been good to mention this while we had that whole conversation on the phone earlier today when we verified my insurance information?? Or perhaps it would have been helpful to call me back before I got to the office to let me know that I'm not allowed to be there yet for another week?

Suddenly I was very frustrated. I'd left work for this, and now I would need to make ANOTHER appointment next week, which meant I would need to leave work AGAIN. Today's attempt at an appointment was a total waste of my time.

Plus, I still have to go another week without ripping or losing my contacts. Which isn't truly a big deal because I don't usually do that, but now that I CAN'T do it, this increases the potential that I WILL do it thousands-fold.

Plus, I'm still stressed about it the exam and I will have the appointment looming over my head for the next week.

Lame.

No one come near my eyeballs for at least another week or more. I can't risk hazard to my contacts.

C.T.

Parmesan Fajita Chicken Pasta

Anytime George Foreman and I can come together over culinary brilliance, it's a beautiful thing.

I can boil pasta and heat up sauce like nobody's business. But a few months ago, I discovered that I can let George Foreman heat up some chicken, and that takes my pasta to a whole new level.

So, basically this is my recipe:

Pasta (if you feel fancy, make it angel hair)
Sauce (heated right out of the jar)
Chicken
Parmesan cheese

The first time I made this delicacy, I used chicken breasts. But then I discovered that it goes much faster and is much easier to buy chicken strips. Now the whole meal takes 15 minutes. And George does pretty much all of the work.

Now, you may ask, what about the fajita part? Here's my secret....

I accidentally bought fajita chicken strips. At first, I was dismayed. But then I tried it, and it adds a special little twist to the entre that is pretty genius.

I haven't quite settled on the name for my new gourmet invention:

Parmesan Fajita Chicken Pasta
Fajita Parmesan Chicken Pasta
Fajita Chicken Parmesan Pasta
Pasta a la Parmesan Fajita Chicken
The Tyrant Special

Whatever. Look out, Rachel Ray. Paula Dean. Naked Chef.

All of you. Look out. And don't steal my recipe.

C.T.

Sucking: More, or Less

I've had the same vaccuum cleaner since I started college. After some quick math with my mom tonight, we calculated that my vac is more than 10 years old.

It's just your basic vac with some attachments. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. But too its credit, it has sucked well for a very long time.

A month or so ago I was cleaning and I noticed that the vac (I'm abbreviating because I can't spell vaccccuuummmm) smelled like the motor was burning up. I looked at it. I changed the bag. I was pretty sure this fixed it. But mostly I was just putting off buying a new vac because I hate having to spend money on things like vacs.

Anyway, fast forward to yesterday and I was cleaning again. It's been a cleaning extravaganza weekend. Something about cleaning is quite calming and therapeutic for me. I even cleaned my car, top to bottom, inside and out.

Anyway (again), I ran the vac yesterday. But remembering that the vac started sucking the last time I used it (and not in the good way) I was not satisfied that my floors were as clean as I really wanted them to be.

So, today I bought a new vac at Target. It's a lovely shade of blue, with a headlight and a HEPA filter, to boot. On sale, not fancy, but much better than the college vac I've been pushing around for more than 10 years.

I decided to try it out right after I got it home this afternoon. It's the bagless kind, which means I can see everything it's sucking out of the carpet. And HOLY COW. The old college vac must have stopped sucking (in the good way) a LONG time ago, because even after using the vac yesterday, the new fancy vac sucked up A LOT of crap today.

I vaccuummmmmmed the whole house again. It was AWESOME. I am now quite confident that my floors are clean.

So, I'm retiring the vac that sucked less, replacing it with a vac that sucks much, much more.

I'm also keeping all of the attachments from the old vac, which when combined with the attachments on the new vac, could quite possibly be long enough to allow me to vac the inside of my car parked in the garage while I recline in the comfort of my bed, inside the house.

And that, my friends, does not suck at all.

C.T.

Sinead O'Britney

Oh dear....



C.T.

Uh....

I also spent Valentine's Day with a 160-pound tumor.

On my tv. On TLC.

I don't know why I decided to watch this before I went to bed. But I should have quit while I was ahead.

What do you do with a 160-pound tumor after you remove it?

I don't think I really want to know.

C.T.

The nicest dinner I've ever had on Valentine's Day

Yep, that was tonight.

Fancy restaurant
Valet parking
Appetizers (the kinds that come four on a plate because they are so fancy they only give you four of them)
Fancy salad (the kind with lettuce that I can't pronounce and nuts that aren't nutty)
Filet minon
Fancy mashed potatoes
And cheesecake....

Plus, good company. In fact, it WAS my company. And some clients.

The fancy restaurant was all set up for couples, tables for two and white tablecloths as far as the eye could see. And there were the four of us in the middle of everything, talking business and having a great time.

My parents even called while they waited for their table for their Valentine's dinner to see if I wanted to join them. And trust me, if I could have made it over there in time for a second dessert of key lime pie, I totally would have....

I do loves me some key lime pie. And my parents.

Valentine's schmalentines.....

I got free steak tonight. And I still made it home in time for LOST.

C.T.

You thought I was kidding...

.....about sitting on the couch eating cheese.....






I'm doing it right now.

C.T.

I have no idea what day it is anymore

A week or so ago, I thought Wednesday was Thursday, so my whole week was off for the rest of the week.

Yesterday I thought the 15th was Wednesday.

Today I thought it was Wednesday, but it's only Tuesday. I'm sure the rest of my week just won't make sense.

I always know the date. I have to do so much planning that I am never without knowing exactly what the date is, plus just about any date any time in the near future, without looking at a calendar.

I know that April 8 is Easter (no one ever knows when Easter is until, like, two days before... is it in March? April? No one ever knows. It should stay the same day every year to make it easier on everyone.).

April 1 is Palm Sunday (as well as April Fool's day).

I know that this Sunday is the 18th. But I may not actually realize it's Sunday, since I thought today was Tuesday all day.

Whatever. I never miss where I have to be or when. And I never miss a meeting (except for the one I was late for this morning because I thought today was Wednesday...)

I got there eventually.

C.T.

God has great timing

I walked in to work this morning and found a card in my chair. It contained a $50 gift card and a note from two of my bosses thanking me for all the hardwork, great work, and extra time I've been putting in lately.

That couldn't have come at a better time, and could not have been more perfect. It was completely unexpected, and I really needed the positive reinforcement to start my week. It's been a rough few days.

The irony of receiving that particular compliment at this time made me smile... along with the $50 I was looking at.

Damn good timing.

C.T.

Welcome to my first ever LIVE Grammy Blogcast

I do loves me some Grammys. And I just happened to have plenty of time to watch and blog about them tonight. So, that works out nicely.

I'll start with the E! red carpet show:

1. Ryan Seacrest is shorter than EVERYONE. Literally. Even Hillary Duff, who seems to be 3 feet tall at best.

Um... that's all I got for the red carpet pre-show.

ON TO THE GRAMMYS!

1. A big shout out to the return of The Police. That was pretty sweet. My big question is.... where have the other two non-Sting Police been all of these years? I don't even know their names. And obviously Sting is, well, Sting. So I picture something like a letter writing campaign from the other to Polices for the past decade or so, which probably included at least one letter a day to Sting, begging him to get The Police back together for a reunion tour. I mean, I just don't imagine a lot of people are downloading Roxanne from iTunes these days (although to be fair, I downloaded it a long time ago). But I wouldn't imagine that my download plus a handful of others over the course of the past decade is really enough to pay the bills for the two non-Sting Polices. I guess Sting finally gave in. Good for them.

2. I'm sorry, Dad. But Justin Timberlake IS hot.

3. I liked the Joan Baez ventriloquism trick. It looked like Joan was talking, but with that microphone right in front of her face so that we couldn't see her mouth moving at all, she was like a life-size ventriloquist's doll. Awesome.

4. 45 minutes into the show, and I think only one award has been given out on stage. But approximately 108 awards have been given in a ceremony earlier today and are now scrolling across the screen.

5. I turned in my video audition late, otherwise I would have been the fourth girl up for the part of Singing With J.T. later in the show. But I'm still holding out that I'll get the call any minute. I won't take me long to change out of my pjs and get on stage. Don't worry.

6. Next time I win a Grammy, I'm totally bringing a deck of cards of people to thank, too. You go, Mary J. I wonder who she is going to thank for the rest of her 27 awards? She thanked them all for the first award.

Um.... DVR weirdness. I have to watch Desperate Housewives for awhile.... Remember, this is a LIVE Blogcast, people. I can't be held responsible for DVR (or wardrobe) malfunctions.

Ok, back to Grammys. I hope I didn't miss anything important.

7. Does Smokey Robinson have kind of a crazy look in his eyes? Just short of psycho, or perhaps just bewildered.

8. I like that for the Lifetime Achievement Awards they just say your name and point a camera at you in your seat. I guess they figure that after all you've achieved, you're either too old to get up on stage and get an award, or it's just too much to ask at that point. Sadly, only one Door was left to be seat-recognized this year.

9. I think Jamie Foxx just realized that Christina Aguilara can sing. He seems surprised.

10. Christina Ricci and Samuel L. Jackson presenting an award makes about as much sense as me and the old guy across the street presenting an award.

11. That was the most bizarre and confusing tribute to James Brown I've ever seen.

12. Ok, what's NOT good about Ludacris, Mary J., and Earth, Wind & Fire all stuck together in one song???? Not a thing. ALL good.

13. Just when I FINALLY got that DAMN (thanks, Grandma) James Blunt song out of my head, the Grammys assume we all need to hear it again. I will NEVER forgive them for this. It's not beautiful. It's true. Doesn't he have any other songs? Anything?

14. Polka in Paradise won Best Polka Album. Sweet.

15. I'm pretty sure Prince just did his own tribute to himself in the form of a television commercial recognizing his own Super Bowl halftime performance. Odd.

16. Damn (thanks again, Grandma). I didn't win My Grammy Moment with J.T. That's ok. Didn't want to get out of my pjs anyway.

17. Wow. I would have guessed that Tony Bennett was not a day under 92. Good for him.

18. That dude that can fly on Heroes is totally married to a Dixie Chick. Awesome.

19. Is Quentin Tarantino wearing a Purple Heart? And which war would that be from exactly?

20. Uh oh. The Dixie Chicks might be mad now about getting played off of the stage. Watch out for their next single, "How Dare You Play Music While We Talk On Stage at The Grammys.... We're Real Mad". Their last angry single seems to be working well for them, so maybe they should do more of those anyway.

21. So when does Al Gore's new cd come out? Anyone know?

22. Um, check that. Anyone know when Scarlett Johansen's cd comes out? That one's serious, y'all. For reals.

23. Who is that creepy hairy guy that keeps wandering up on stage with the Dixie Chicks? He didn't get the dress code memo.

Alright, y'all. THE END.

C.T.

Hell and Damnation

My Grandma had surgery to replace her pacemaker a couple of days ago. My parents went up to be with her for a few days.



The latest report today is that the surgery was simple and went great, and that she is doing great. She had been sluggish and disoriented due to the lack of oxygen getting to her brain because of the malfunctioning pacemaker. But now she is perky, chatty, and feeling good.

In fact, she is feeling so good that she has picked up a new habit in the past few days since the surgery. She now cusses like a sailor. And apparently it is hilarious.

My mom called with the update earlier today, and she told me all about my grandma cussing up a storm, and that they all just die laughing because it's hilarious. Even hearing my mom repeat the things my Grandma was saying was hilarious. You have to understand that my grandma is just one of those ladies that doesn't do that. She never goes a day without her make-up on (her "face" as she calls it), even in her nursing home. We never used to wear cut-off jean shorts to visit Grandma because she didn't approve of that as acceptable attire. My Grandma is a role model, through and through. I have never heard her swear in my entire life. God-fearing and upstanding all the way.

But I guess now that she's getting full oxygen to the brain again, and considering she's 86 years old, I guess she figured she's got nothing to lose, so before it's too late, she'd better get some good cussing in....

So, as one of my role models in life and as someone I've always respected, I say if she can do it, SO CAN I.

Hell. Damn. Damn. Damn...... Hell. Damn.

I definitely needed the laugh today. For the first time in five and a half years, I only have one job. I've suddenly been given the gift of time, but with less money to fill my time. Granted, it's only 8-10 hours a week of time. But I'm not quite sure what to do with this unexpected change in circumstance. More time to sit alone on the couch eating cheese, I suppose....

My keychain is lighter. It's odd. The weight of a keychain is comforting and familiar. Mine is strange and foreign now, and it makes a different noise when my remaining keys clank together. I don't recognize it.

It's been a perfect night to hunker down with some comforting Whataburger, my pjs, and my DVR. I'm tired. I'm weepy. I don't know what to say.

So I'll take a cue from one of the wisest people I've ever known....

Hell. Damn Damn Damn. Hell Hell...... Damn.

C.T.

Neckties and Pantyhose

I'm not really sure who decided that neckties are the accessory for men that make them fancy. But I'm not sure why they chose the necktie as that particular fancy-making accessory.

I just spent two days in meetings with men who had to wear neckties. Sure, a good necktie adds a certain perfection to a suit, or even just to a shirt without a jacket.

BUT...

A BAD necktie (especially with a BAD shirt) just ruins everything. Ruins the shirt, ruins the suit, ruins everything. Ruins the whole point of wearing the tie, which is to make you look NICER. But for every good tie-shirt combo, there's like.... 108 BAD tie-shirt combos walking around out there.

Plus, they're obviously not comfortable to wear. And they always get in the way. Guys are always throwing their ties over the shoulder to eat and to generally keep them out of the way. What's dressed-up about a tie thrown over your shoulder?

Now, I'm not saying there were any bad ties and bad shirts in my meetings this week. I just found my mind wandering from time to time, and I kept staring at all the ties and wondering .... why ties?

It's like pantyhose. Who decided that pantyhose are the accessory needed to dress up us ladies? I mean, you get ONE run in your pantyhose and you take what was a fabulous attempt at dressing nicely for some sort of fancy occassion STRAIGHT to trailer trash with a run in your hose. And there's no way to fix it when you're out and about. You just have to be trailer trash.

In your Oscar dress on the red carpet, being Glam-Cammed by E! = FANCY

.... but with a run in your hose = Trailer Trash. Even though it is an Oscar dress and probably costs 108 thousand dollars, the run you just got in your hose while tripping over Ryan Seacrest totally takes you down to trailer trash for the rest of the evening. Nothing you can do about it.

Even if you win an award..... sorry. Still trailer trash, because you got up on stage in your fancy dress, but with a run in your hose.

That's just the way I see it, folks. Neckties and pantyhose. Pretty sure we should rethink that whole thing.

C.T.

In Florida again

For work. Again.

Here are some thoughts.

Catching a plane at 7:50 am is not so much fun. Sitting in coach while two of your bosses are in 1st class.... even less fun.

I always do stupid things when I travel. On business trips, I have to work really hard to do the stupid things where none of my bosses see me. Like... last trip home, somehow I accidentally didn't lock the bathroom door on the plane. And yep, sure enough some guy opens the door and gets to see, um, a whole lot of me. The back row of the plane got a good look, too. Fortunately none of my coworkers or bosses were anywhere near. SUPER embarrassing. I have told no one this. Until now.

And now everyone in the world knows.

This time, I accidentally sat in the wrong seat on the plane. I mean, really. Who can read row numbers at 7:30 in the morning? But then when I got to my actual row, I ended up having the whole row to myself. So that worked out nicely.

Then I got up to go to the bathroom, and I walked right by it. I assumed it was at the back of the plane, but nope. It was in the middle of the plane. Who puts a bathroom there?!?!? Fortunately I did lock the door this time. But then when I walked back to my seat, I PASSED THAT, TOO. One of my bosses did see me do that. Lovely.

Then later, at dinner, I almost walked into the men's restroom.

Maybe I just have a problem with bathrooms that aren't in my house.

What my hair loves about Florida is that it is REALLY windy and REALLY humid, all at the same time. I'm looking fabulous, I must say.

I've got a king-size bed, which is AWESOME. But there's just one problem. The clock is on one side of the bed, and the phone is on the other side. So if I set the alarm AND get a wake-up call, I have no idea how I will be able to silence BOTH of them in the morning without seriously hurting myself, because they are SO FAR AWAY from each other. Seriously, you could fit like, 50 of me in this bed.

I don't want to iron my pants for tomorrow. I'm hoping the wrinkles just fall out on their own.

Yes, I did wear my Chuck Taylors with my suit all day up until the point I actually had to go into the meeting with clients. My bosses made fun of me, but hey, if I have to travel before dark in a suit, at least my feet will be comfortable. I insist. And I will do it on the way home tomorrow, too.

Seriously, the "business center" in this hotel consists of one desk with a computer on it, in the middle of the breakfast nook in the lobby. I think "center" may be too generous of a term.

For the first time ever in my life, someone introduced me by pronouncing my last name correctly the first time, and then they FORGOT my boss's name completely. HA!

The Ft. Lauderdale airport this morning was littered with weary Super Bowl fans decked out in Super Bowl garb, literally just laying all over the floor as we arrived. i must say, I felt extremely overdressed in my suit.... and Chuck Taylors.

That's all I got. Time to get some work done in my big king-size bed.

C.T.