Ah, to be 24 and bold again

Ok, I know this is out of hand, and I have now officially shattered my monthly posting record (at least as far as this blog is concerned), but this caught me...actually about twenty minutes ago.

I've done little work today. Not a surprise. A large part of my day has been spent on blogger. That experience includes resting my eyeballs on their cute little dashboard, the central artery for blogger extraordinaires. Now anyone who's known me for at least a few years also knows that I've had many online homes. This is the latest. But the predecessor of english however also lives (and breathes) on blogger.

Until now I've just kind of ignored it. I remember why I had moved away from it; I hated the title. It showed up in a google search, and at some point it seemed vulgar to have yourself directly connected to a blog with "shit" in the title. But by some possession unknown to me, I started reading some of the posts again and it's kind of mindblowing. I started it in September 2005. I was living with my girlfriend for the first time in Winter Hill and the Tribe Mainstage was just starting out. Just from reading it it's unbelievable how different things were. E.g. the second post details one of my first visits to Improv Asylum and the glitz and glamor and mystery of it all. And all the entries seem lighter, funner, as if I had much less weight on my shoulders only three years ago. It's an interesting thought, if not mildly upsetting.

If you'd like a look, it's here. Me, I'll be spending my weekend reading about the wonder years.

BREAKING NEWS: 40+ Year Old Divorced Coworkers Flirt, Headphones Firmly Implanted In Ears

It's been a busy week for R. Petti now that he's a one man tech support show at his Lexington based small business employer. Phones ring, pagers buzz and requests for favors and "critical issues" seem to surface out of nowhere. But through it all, he keeps an even head. After all, the breakneck pace of computer networking support requires a clarity and sense of urgency not seen in many disillusioned twenty-somethings.

But occasionally, something hits home for our IT hero. Some days it's a missing lunch or an inappropriate ramble from a conservative coworker or yes, even a simple question. Today though it takes a different form: flirting amongst the senior (read: elderly) ranks.

And these are only the beginning stages. A recent new hire has quietly been exposed as a divorcee, which in turn proves to be a titillating opportunity for other males of the species that find themselves in the same life situation.

The following takes place through a cubicle wall, requiring volume levels grander than those heard in a typical one-on-one (God forbid) conversation.

The male arrives, fumbling with bags, jackets, bumbling with chairs and such, causing a general disturbance. He is shushed by the female. This is dovetailed with an immediate giggle to signify it was all in jest.

"Did you miss me?" he prods.

"I was crying all morning," she replies. Wretching can be heard in the distance.

It was at this point our hero calmly placed his trembling earbuds in their destined home. Thusly the terrifying back and forth continued, but was glazed over with the sweet crooning tones of Sam Beam, instantly causing a calming of the senses and a tapping of the feet.

Petti lives to see another support ticket.

Doin' it, like LL

Now that I think about it, it's been almost two full weeks since I've done any improv. I'm planning on going to the Asylum house teams show tonight. But assuming I'm asked to jump into the lottery (if I'm not then message received, over and out) this will be my first time in weeks doing improv.

I wish there was a better way to say that without the "doing". Doing improv. It sounds gross. Like I'm dipping something in it.

At any rate, I'll be doing improv tonight. I hope I'm not overrun by the house teamers as I hear this round is quite clever. So consequently I'll be on my guard all night, which always makes for a great scene. Come see me flounder and begin my improv recovery.

Geesh.

Are you literate? Keep reading!

I already hate how dark it is. Next week will be even worse. Somehow one extra hour's sleep doesn't seem like adequate compensation for an enitre season of darkness. Right now it's ten to five and every car streaming by on the Route 2 on ramp can distinctly see my every move, that is if they turn their heads slightly to the left. And if they're as distracted a driver as I am they surely will. The prospect of peering into a lit office window is something a lot of people can't pass up. What if there's an AFFAIR happening right before my eyes? Or a party? Or BOTH? Of course as I mentioned, they'd be bombing up the Route 2 westbound ramp, so a slight turn of the head could mean free catastrophy show for Ryan, which wouldn't be so bad so long as no one was maimed or burned or launched. Though the pond might provide an adequate landing pad for each case. My point was that the day grows dark, with or without ominous cloud cover. Not only that but today's freak wind gusts seem to have stripped a good many of the trees half naked. This does not bode well. If I thought I was unproductive this summer, I can't imagine what sloth will over take me in the oncoming sleepy food filled months. Time to research possible medical study participation opportunities.

this beast is hanging off my window at work

question: should i get the kids and head underground?