August 10, 2004

In exactly which fashion era were low-heeled silver sandals coupled with tan pantyhose considered smart?

Oh, thank you, Ms. Reader of Louis L'Amour. Yesterday morning on my 6am flight to Dallas, I was worried as to how I going to stay awake. One glimpse of your shiny podiatric mistake solved everything. Lady, there’s no need to worry. Glinda the Good Witch's got nothin' on you.

So, anyway, I'm in Dallas drinking water that has an aftertaste similar to DIRT, wondering how I have managed to get another job that is slowly sucking the essence out of my social life faster than you can say "dementor" (okay, a slight exaggeration in the name of Blogging, but STILL ). I left the corporate world of McJobs and went to work for a quasi-governmental agency. I was hoping to snag a gig that would allow me to be home on Thursday evenings just in time for Pretty Boy Probst on Survivor. “Quasi” you ask? This would mean "an agency created by an act of Congress, but not actually the Government" (read: all the bennies of government work, just none of the job security). This agency disperses cash and messes with the interest rates periodically - you do the math. I call it working for Big Al, but let me tell you - this ain't no Happy Days.

Anyway, I have wanted to keep a blog myself for quite awhile now. Then as several of my friends started jumping on the blogging bandwagon, I realized I better grab the tailgate and hitch a ride. The appeal of staking my own space in the Blue Nowhere was irresistible since I have a lot of rants in my pants anyway. I can't promise entertainment or enlightenment, but hey, who cares. I'LL feel better and that's what counts, right?

Tomorrow: my thoughts on the Amazing Race. You will quickly realize the meaning of this blog’s title because my comments will be posted WAY after everyone else’s. That’s the story of my life --- Chapter 1: A Week Overdue.

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