ooops. Forgot that I installed a comment blocker into chrome (thank you Kotaku.com.au commenters for making that necessary) and I was getting puzzled why I was unable to make or read comments on anyone's LJ.
I really like this job. Moving back in September was the best idea I'd ever had. But I'd forgotten that all work - even work you like - comes with that mentally exhausting routine. No matter how much fun stuff you might have done, you get to the end of a week, bump into someone over drinks and when they ask "what's been happening" you say "oh, you know - just work".
I think this is my round about way of saying that I need a project that isn't just a personal trainer and attempting not to drink my body weight in bourbon every week.
Maybe I need new hats?
I have no idea if anyone will actually read this in time, but I find myself both in Melbourne and at a mild loose end in terms of accommodation on the 28/12. Anyone either a) able to help with crash space or b) feel like staying up for 24 hours drinking with me?
Every time I grow a moustache, I give it a title. Not a name - that would be weird, but a title. It began when a friend referred to the vague collection of stubble that one day would become a paragon of facial hair as "some kind of proto-mo". The title stuck (it was the Protomo for its entire existence) and so did the tradition - I've had the Ultimo and the Maximo as well since those early days.
But this current follicular monstrosity has proven trickier to pin down in a single word - it's a remarkably ludicrous bit of facial decoration. Until today, when I realised it was obviously, the Supremo.
That is all.
Continuing in my theme of attempting to post every day, here's some random bullshit.
We're moving offices today, kind of. Actually we're just punching a wall out into the newly renovated back area. All very exciting except we're busy as blue-arsed flies around here and we're supposed to be out of the office before 12. I think that means I'll actually just bugger off to the gym and work out for a bit. Then yet another Xmas party tonight. Sheesh.
Then flea-bombing the house. As we have fleas. In fact, Ophelia and I kinda aren't talking at the moment because we're arguing over who got the fleas in the first place. She seems to be blaming me, but hey - she's the cat, my money's on her.
Man, just realised it's 9 years of LJ for me. I really miss when this thing was a zinging.