jr conlin's ink stained banana

Every day, i'm starting to dread four o'clock.

You see, at five o'clock, my wife calls me so we can head home (we car pool, partly to save the planet, but mostly so that way i can speed down the HOV lane laughing at the idiot in the Lamborghini stuck behind a Ford Fiesta). Those deep in valley culture who wish to deride me for leaving at five and are jealous that i have a life that doesn't involve cubical walls or dining on pop-tarts at 3AM instead of sticking out and getting the job done at work should be reminded that i have network access from home and unlike my cubical, i can play my home stereo as loud as i damn well please.

i look forward to the driving home, the laughing at slow moving people in expensive Italian penile enhancements, the eating of non-poptarts and other joys that come only from having a balanced work life. Of course, Murphy, realizing my penchant for such things, always sees fit to remind me who is in charge.

Inevitably, come the mid afternoon, something explodes. Well, something if i'm lucky. Quite often, it's more like "somethings" in multiple levels of combustion often reserved for expensive slow-motion reels for summer blockbuster releases. The sort of things where you fully expect to meet St. Peter by waving as you pass by, inverted, on-fire, and possibly leaving a smoking trail of once recognizable electronic bits. This, of course, culminates with the arrival of the blessed hour of departure denoted by the pleasant ring of my cellphone accenting the dulcimer tones of panic one reserves for being struck by an asteroid covered in dinosaurs armed with thermonuclear lasers.

Quite possibly on fire.

Both you, and the asteroid.

Hi JR.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!*rarr*bzzap*

i'm down in visitor parking.

AAAAAAH! FIRE!*bzzap*bzzap*OHGODHE'SGOTALASER

*sigh* Ok, well come down when you're ready

Ok, give me ten minutes or so. Love you.

Love you.

*rar*AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!*bzzap*

Does make one appreciate what Sam and Ralph used to go through.