So when I went to the airport to pick up my mom – early, of course, because I got tired of sitting at home waiting to go – I found out where her luggage was going to be, went back outside to park closer, then came back in and used the restroom.
As soon as I walked in I was greeted by the sight of a pilot – or possibly a male flight attendant; couldn’t really tell from the uniform – standing there with his pants down around his ankles checking out his ass in the mirror.
Okay…
Then I went to stand by the arrivals area to wait for my mom. She didn’t appear with any of the various mobs of people arriving, and eventually my phone rang and I was greeted with “Where are you?” Evidently she’d managed to sneak past me – having taken a different route – and gotten over to the baggage claim without being spotted.
On my way over to the baggage area, randomly, I spotted my cube neighbor and co-worker Melissa coming down the escalator (just returning from trip to Columbus that I would have also made had I been at work).
So that was pretty random.
Didn’t do too much today, at least nothing touristy. Had lunch, did some shopping.
Tomorrow we’ll probably have breakfast and do some shopping.
Saturday will be the party, and then dinner with Scott and Stacy that evening.
Sunday we’ll probably head to Charlestown Races and Slots in West Virginia for some gambling.
We won’t be doing anything terribly exciting while she's here, but then, my mom isn’t really interested in doing anything terribly exciting, other than just seeing me and my house and meeting my friends.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
For The Curious Among You
My mom arrived safely and without incident, and realizes that traveling out here wasn't nearly as scary as she thought it would be.
Monday, April 07, 2008
The Go-Cart Signifies Awesomeness
A while back I wrote about a dream in which my hand and part of my forearm were cut off and my hand was reattached to my arm minus the missing section of wrist and forearm.
When I mentioned this to Kathleen, she asked if I’d looked it up to find an interpretation. I hadn’t, but when I did later, I wasn’t able to find anything, really. Just a few instances of people recounting dreams in which they did things like cut their own fingers off with scissors, which was interpreted as having to do with paring away unnecessary items in their lives or something.
What I’m really curious about, though, is the dream I had this morning shortly before my alarm went off in which I found myself playing hooky from grade school so that I could spend my time tooling around in this kick-ass futuristic go-cart that I’d built using old snowmobile parts.
Interpret that, Freud.
Other than dreaming about kick-ass go-carts, not much of interest has been going on. Today was really long and really boring.
I did see that cute girl from the elevator that I mentioned seeing shortly after I started at the new job, and who I saw again a while back and then discovered afterwards that my fly was open.
In any case, I saw her today, appropriately enough, on the elevator, and I think she was wearing the same outfit that she’d been wearing the first time I saw her.
As we were riding up and she stood over on the other side of the elevator in a much less friendly and more defensive posture than the one she had taken back in my first encounter with her, I found myself wondering why, given that there was just the two of us, three buttons were lit up.
When we stopped at the third floor, she looked over at me and reluctantly admitted, “I pushed the wrong button.”
I laughed and said it was okay, then she got off, rather quickly, when we stopped on the fourth floor, and then I continued on my way up to the sixth.
And that’s seriously as exciting as it got today.
No go-carts at all, not even of the non-kick-ass and futuristic variety.
I’m sure tomorrow, being as it is my last day before taking a week off, will be even longer, more boring, and just as go-cart free.
When I mentioned this to Kathleen, she asked if I’d looked it up to find an interpretation. I hadn’t, but when I did later, I wasn’t able to find anything, really. Just a few instances of people recounting dreams in which they did things like cut their own fingers off with scissors, which was interpreted as having to do with paring away unnecessary items in their lives or something.
What I’m really curious about, though, is the dream I had this morning shortly before my alarm went off in which I found myself playing hooky from grade school so that I could spend my time tooling around in this kick-ass futuristic go-cart that I’d built using old snowmobile parts.
Interpret that, Freud.
Other than dreaming about kick-ass go-carts, not much of interest has been going on. Today was really long and really boring.
I did see that cute girl from the elevator that I mentioned seeing shortly after I started at the new job, and who I saw again a while back and then discovered afterwards that my fly was open.
In any case, I saw her today, appropriately enough, on the elevator, and I think she was wearing the same outfit that she’d been wearing the first time I saw her.
As we were riding up and she stood over on the other side of the elevator in a much less friendly and more defensive posture than the one she had taken back in my first encounter with her, I found myself wondering why, given that there was just the two of us, three buttons were lit up.
When we stopped at the third floor, she looked over at me and reluctantly admitted, “I pushed the wrong button.”
I laughed and said it was okay, then she got off, rather quickly, when we stopped on the fourth floor, and then I continued on my way up to the sixth.
And that’s seriously as exciting as it got today.
No go-carts at all, not even of the non-kick-ass and futuristic variety.
I’m sure tomorrow, being as it is my last day before taking a week off, will be even longer, more boring, and just as go-cart free.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Whither The Warlord?
It seems to be a week for total 180s; yesterday was gorgeous, whereas today? Not so much.
Given that Stacy picked up all of season 2 and season 2.5 of Battlestar Galactica on Friday and that there wasn’t nearly time enough for us to watch them all, it was suggested that I take the DVDs home with me to watch.
That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing all day today.
As per a conversation Scott and I had Friday night, I’ve been meaning to blog on a topic of extreme importance for some time, but haven’t managed to find the time, what with my busy schedule.
Okay, the more accurate assessment is that I’ve been too bloody lazy and the topic is one that maybe .01% of the population would care about.
But I’m going to write about it now anyway.
With all of the comic book properties that have already been developed into movies or are currently in the process of being developed, there’s a question that’s been plaguing me: why hasn’t anyone adapted The Warlord?
I mean, seriously, a Warlord movie would be freakin’ awesome.
(It could also be really cheesy, but for the purposes of this entry I’m choosing to be uncharacteristically optimistic.)
What is The Warlord, you ask?
It’s a comic about a Vietnam-era USAF pilot flying a reconnaissance mission over the Arctic Circle who gets shot down by a Soviet MIG and plunges through the Earth’s crust into a world inside the world; a place of eternal sunlight and unimaginable savagery. A barbaric world filled with ancient science, magic, dinosaurs, cannibals, and danger around every corner.
It was in this world that Lt. Colonel Travis Morgan, the titular Warlord, attempted to subdue and civilize with the help of his sword and his .44 AutoMag.
Of course, despite his efforts to build a civilized world, it was clear that the savage world spoke more fully to Morgan’s true nature than the world he had left behind.
Besides all of that, The Warlord has more than its share of ass-kicking hot barbarian chicks in skimpy outfits. What’s not to like?
So, Hollywood, I know that for you “baseline normal” is to totally suck balls, but every once in a while you do something right. How about making this one of those times?
On a more personal note, one of the things that I always liked about The Warlord as a kid was the two-page splash that opened every issue, most notably, back when Grell was still on the title, the credits on the splash that said “Written, Illustrated, and Created by Mike Grell.” The first time I saw that, it became my goal to have a book that would bear those same credits, only with my name.
Yeah, goals…I vaguely recall having those.
Given that Stacy picked up all of season 2 and season 2.5 of Battlestar Galactica on Friday and that there wasn’t nearly time enough for us to watch them all, it was suggested that I take the DVDs home with me to watch.
That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing all day today.
As per a conversation Scott and I had Friday night, I’ve been meaning to blog on a topic of extreme importance for some time, but haven’t managed to find the time, what with my busy schedule.
Okay, the more accurate assessment is that I’ve been too bloody lazy and the topic is one that maybe .01% of the population would care about.
But I’m going to write about it now anyway.
With all of the comic book properties that have already been developed into movies or are currently in the process of being developed, there’s a question that’s been plaguing me: why hasn’t anyone adapted The Warlord?
I mean, seriously, a Warlord movie would be freakin’ awesome.
(It could also be really cheesy, but for the purposes of this entry I’m choosing to be uncharacteristically optimistic.)
What is The Warlord, you ask?
It’s a comic about a Vietnam-era USAF pilot flying a reconnaissance mission over the Arctic Circle who gets shot down by a Soviet MIG and plunges through the Earth’s crust into a world inside the world; a place of eternal sunlight and unimaginable savagery. A barbaric world filled with ancient science, magic, dinosaurs, cannibals, and danger around every corner.
It was in this world that Lt. Colonel Travis Morgan, the titular Warlord, attempted to subdue and civilize with the help of his sword and his .44 AutoMag.
Of course, despite his efforts to build a civilized world, it was clear that the savage world spoke more fully to Morgan’s true nature than the world he had left behind.
Besides all of that, The Warlord has more than its share of ass-kicking hot barbarian chicks in skimpy outfits. What’s not to like?
So, Hollywood, I know that for you “baseline normal” is to totally suck balls, but every once in a while you do something right. How about making this one of those times?
On a more personal note, one of the things that I always liked about The Warlord as a kid was the two-page splash that opened every issue, most notably, back when Grell was still on the title, the credits on the splash that said “Written, Illustrated, and Created by Mike Grell.” The first time I saw that, it became my goal to have a book that would bear those same credits, only with my name.
Yeah, goals…I vaguely recall having those.
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