At least it is Friday, I hope. The vacuum of what was the holidays, working events, travel, and what is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year was cheeseballed into some conglomerate of cheddar, swiss and holy shit what just happened. It was tasty, fulfilling with every bite, but the mornings after are always uncertain.
So now it is time to turn and burn, and I have not yet had more than 1 large mug of coffee. But the mini coffee pot I carriaged in from home should do the trick. Trying new things this year, and a coffee bar in my floor to ceiling window office should do the trick, since a bar is technically against personnel policy. At least it will make my bitter morning pursed lip reactions to the retired tech boom nerds or jobless UT post grads stretching outside the office (yes we can see everything when you bend over in your running tights) (double GAG) more lively.
March madness here isn't just a week during SXSW or basketball playoffs, it runs March 1 - through mid-May with more events than even Kim Kardashian could herself wreck with wretched appearances. The couture profile of this group by timeline is as follows: Osh-Kosh and mom jeans, never washed skinny jeans, running tights, upscale Texas, rasta, sagging jeans, no clothed hippies, more running shorts, and then finally rowing tights, Saris and grunge..... It is an Old Navy and Nike Rosemary's baby.
So it is time to turn and burn. I have to get my shit together as the polar opposite of what the squirrels did months ago when prepping for winter.... There is food and liquor to bury, nests of projects to complete now in the dead of winter otherwise delay to the 103 degree Austin summer.
Thank god for the blustery memory of winter, great times with the Maurer clan, snow and great food with Joan Nelson, and NYE bandits swimming in champagne. The Pancho villa nye staches were a hit - they will definitely be making an appearance again.
My 8:30 am meeting cancelled, which is good for them. All they can ever expect at those early Friday meetings is a character from Walking Dead. Nothing left but the body, and the part of brain that only moves body parts and eats unwieldy overbearing out-loud speaking Friday thinkers.
So the weekend begins.
You're writing skills are really taking form, and down right FUNNY. Can I call you Miss Bradshaw?
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