The Reviews Are In: I Don't Suck!

Well, one review anyway, and the not sucking part only applies to my job.
Still, it’s nice to be told – officially – that you’re doing a great job.
It’s even nicer to be told that you’re getting a big raise and a big bonus.
Too bad that part didn’t happen; the details of the merit increase and annual bonus are still up in the air at this point, and the odds don’t favor them being too big.
Still a. I still have a job and b. I’m going to get some amount of additional compensation.
So I can’t complain too much, I guess.
Scott’s back to work from his paternity leave. Before he left I told him that I should knock some chick up just so that I could get some extra time off. When he sarcastically responded that this was a good idea I said, “Meh, people have had kids for dumber reasons.”
Fortunately – in this instance, at least – I don’t have a chick that I could knock up anyway.
Stacy informed me via IM that Scott is very happy with the new addition and is, in fact, “adorable.” I’ll take her word for it.
Now that the baby is settled in, it looks as though Scott and I will be resuming our Wednesday night movie sessions.
This week we’ll be going to the actual movies, as there are two movies out that we want to see: Coraline, based on the book by Neil Gaiman, and Taken, which is, essentially, the movie Commando, but with Liam Neeson. And who doesn’t love Liam Neeson? Nobody who has any kind of sense, that’s who.
I sent Scott a link to a video sometime this afternoon and he informed me that he would wait to watch it, as there were a lot of people hanging around.
I said, “Let one rip; that’ll clear them out in a hurry.”
I went on to add that, now that he’s over 30, he can most likely produce those long, loud old man farts.
It got me to thinking.
My dad wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a good guy. He was a talented carpenter and woodworker, funny, charming, gregarious, and just generally likeable. If you ever met my dad and didn’t like him then the odds are that you’re incapable of liking people.
Everybody liked my dad.
Thinking about that fact, I couldn’t help but wonder why it is that of all of those positive and remarkable traits, the only thing I really inherited from him was a propensity for long, loud old man farts.
As a kid, I prayed that the day would never come when I would let them rip, and rip, and rip, and rip the way my dad did.
And yet...
Thanks a lot, dad.
Seriously, they’re kind of distressing. It’s like when you see some old episode of That’s Incredible or Real People and there would be a story about some poor bastard who’s had the hiccups non-stop for like 30 years or something. Whenever I get hiccups, I worry that something like that will happen to me.
It’s the same thing with some of the old man farts. What if the fart never stops?
Seriously, sometimes they last long enough that it starts to become a legitimate concern. Especially when one excepitonally long tooting session is immediately followed by another that’s just as long.
And where the hell does all that gas come from anyway? I refuse to believe that water and a Snickers bar are a sufficient source. It’s like my ass is a portal to another dimension. A fart dimension.
All right, all right, enough with the flatulence talk and complaints about my ever-increasing gassiness.
I’ll close with a lesson that I learned this evening.
If you’re going to bake cookies, bake them after you’ve made dinner, otherwise there’s a very good chance that the cookies will end up being dinner.