::sniff sniff::

Smell that? THAT is the smell of fall. The crisp air of impending seasonal depression is upon us, and I think we can all agree it smells awesome. I have a number of wonderful things to inform you, readers that I might call my own (and I guess christine's as well), so let's get right to it.

First and most importantly, I have quit my job as of the end of this month. Yes, this is sad and terrible and will usher in a new age of eternal woe and misery upon the hapless other workers at the big V, or so they tell me. Usually in high-pitched whines, or whinges, as it has now come to be known. Sucks for them. My final day with the cellular monstrosity occurs All Hallow's Eve this year, hence the dark (read: cliched) theme I fully intend to abuse in this here blog thing until such a time as Oct 31st passes. Then I can write with a food theme perhaps? Or just ignore thanksgiving and write snowy for two months. We will, as the wise men say, cross that bridge when we come to it, which burns down, casting its contents into a firey chasm of unknown horror.

Halloween is fucking great.

Annnnyhoo. So I'm gonna geek out a moment, as the all-important First Paragraph has been past, and thus I can reasonably assume anyone reading this either cares, or is quite bored. The other day, working late and dicking around in the back with some coworkers, a distraught girl wandered up to the counter, wishing to know if there was any way we could transfer the phone contacts from her old phone to her new one, as this would take bloody ages to do by hand. Being the champion of distraught girls everywhere, I boldly took the phone from her hand and went to work. The contacts wouldn't transfer, of course--having the data port torn from the phone in what I can only imagine was a violent (losing) battle with a pair of needle-nose pliers will do that--but as I handed the phone back, I opened the phone absentmindedly to appear as if I was attempting to solve the problem in a handy sort of way despite the circumstances. I closed the phone. Then I opened it again, lest my eyes deceive me. There, in all its backlit LCD glory, was the image of a rather menacing-looking dragon. A...Magic: The Gathering dragon. A Niv-Mizzet, to be precise. And like the incredibly silly geek that I am, I got really excited and bantered with her about magic for a while. I was quite certain that, had Christine been there, she would have laughed hysterically for perhaps hours. And then maybe disemboweled her, after she came back in to chat again. Had to get the halloween part in there somewhere, right?

Either way, this was all strikingly relevant, as days later I went to a tournament for the game with my dear friend (hot) Paul. All I can say is...



Me: Wow, what are the chances of that?

Paul: About one in twenty.

Until next time, my dear readers. Tool concert Thursday. You bet your ass I'm writing about that.

whirred.