I must admit the weekend feels a little more glamorous with a numbing, monotonous workweek behind me. If that’s not what’s causing my giddiness, maybe it’s the knowledge that in a few hours I’ll be liquored up with naked women dancing around me. Birthdays rule. Regardless, I didn’t post a rant about my job yesterday because I’ve had somewhat of a change of heart about my driver, and I’m not sure how to react. All the animosity is gone. He still says and does stupid things, but they no longer bother me in the least. I’ve learned to accept that he’s a dolt. So here are some pics from Thursday and Friday, but I don’t plan to make any effort to tie them into a narrative.
Oddly-shaped mirrors fascinate me for no real good reason…
Here’s where Boy Genius got us stuck in a ditch. Luckily, there were big rocks handy to wedge under the wheels so he could drive it out…
I was standing around while he organized packages, and noticed that my shadow was about 20 feet tall…
Exorcising the lactic acid from your muscles will make the packages disappear quickly, according to our hero…
I haven’t done one fucking bit of my Christmas shopping. Damn. It’s probably a good thing Friday’s check hasn’t posted yet, or I’d blow most of it tonight.
Sidetrack: I don’t often recommend greatest hits CDs because I hate the whole concept of greatest hits CD, but I highly recommend The Best of Taj Mahal. It’s a good introduction to his eclectic brand of druggy-jazzy-country-blues-rock. I just thought of that because I was listening to it on the way home from work Friday night. Sucks that I missed him when he was playing Atlanta a few months ago.
