Browning 12-gauge vs. yogi shoulder

Winner: Browning 12-guage. Barely. I know, I know, it's a sissy bruise, barely one at all. But if you've got good form, all you should've seen in the pic would be yogi's rippling and unblemished deltoids.

See, this is the problem when you go shooting with friends - everyone's talking, there are pretty women around, you want to impress them with your form, and then, just for the one round, you lose your focus just a bit and loosen up. And of course, since it's a 12-gauge, that means that when you fire, there's a skull-rattling recoil and your shoulder and cheekbone let you know for the next three hours that they were somewhat displeased by the turn of events.

But still, just because it's a matter of pride, I have to include a little factoid that you don't really need to know, but do now that I have told you - I still beat out the kids from Utah to win our little competition. Take that, Hansens.

Why blog, yogi?

... just got a disapproving comment (that will stay unpublished) asking me about how I can write the way I do, being the person I am. (These people know yogi in real life, and yogi in real life is more normal). If you know me, perhaps you have thought this too. To them, and to you, I say this:

Perhaps my blog is a projection of the parts of me that DOES look at my world as one squalid messed up place. Maybe that is who yogi is - me at my funniest, narcissistic, misogynistic, drunken, outrageous best. Or worst. Perhaps as yogi I look at myself and choose to be whatever part of me I want to be at that point in time, knowing that writing about that me at that time is pure, beautiful and unadulterated joy. No more, no less. No agenda, no planning, no forethought, no afterthought. Just happiness.

That's all there is to it.

Post meeting crash

I had a big, BIG meeting just yesterday. The kind that you spend sleepless nights ahead of, so you don't end up looking like a complete jack-ass in front of some very smart people.

So what do you do after you blow them away?

You crash. That's what you do. It's amazing how the brain just stops working. Your body does too; your sleep schedule and appetite are all out of whack, but it's the cobwebs in the brain that are really awesome. I mean, I don't really understand it. You are functioning just fine, it wasn't like I was walking into stuff or blathering like a fool (this I usually do, but that's beside the point. I don't usually feel like my head is full of cobwebs). But my brain was just dead. I tried doing some thinking, but it would shut off after a little bit.

I really wonder what it could be. "Fatigue" doesn't cut it. No, what is it that makes the brain like it's had enough and needs time to recuperate after a bit of stress? It's not like lactic acid buildup in muscles, can't be oxygen deprivation... hm. Wonder what.

4 days of drinking, 1 frog leg, and 1 sixteen-hour throw up session

Ah... Yogi turns older by a year today.

Celebrations with multiple friends' circles = mucho alcohol and food + being surrounded by good friends. It's nice to know a bunch of people like you and care about you. It's a soft and mushy feeling even for a hardened cynic like me. I just couldn't do five days straight (plus I had to go in for a solid 9-hour day of work today).

Bet you thought the chundering had something to do with the drinking. Wrong. It had all to do with frog legs.

See, last weekend, I agreed to go to a play on a whim, and decided to meet the rest of the group at a bar. I was under the impression that the "friend from work" that my friends were bringing was a dude. In retrospect, I have no idea why I would have had that impression, because my friends certainly didn't tell me their friend from work was a dude.

Because the friend from work was one cute asian chick.

Unfortunately, they were late getting to the bar (may have something to with the fact that it was three women. Just saying, just saying...) by which time I had already run through three beers and was on my fourth. So by this time I was already feeling pretty good about myself, and the world was pink and rosy, and this woman suddenly seemed very very cute. So I'm thinking "Yogi, this is awesome. You should go make an impression" and so I open with this:

"HEEEYYY. Burp. How goooes iiiit... I'm yogi."

- " uh... hey (polite handshake). I'm Gina."

"Oh Gina? You mean like VAGINA? Hahahahaaa..."

This was a mistake on multiple counts:
1. This was the first time I was meeting Gina. You do not attempt to rhyme people's names with body parts when you meet them for the first time.
2. Her name is pronounced Jeena. Vagina of course, does not rhyme with Jeena.
3. This was the immediate death of any chance I had with Gina. Or Vagina. or Geena's Vagina.

Of course, I did not know this, and I interpreted the frozen mask of horror on our mutual friends as a look of pride (at my awesome ability to break the ice) and merriment (at my stellar sense of humor). Still, given Gina's sudden glum silence, I thought I should make another attempt at bonding. So when we sat down to eat and got our food, I looked around and saw that Ms Gina had gotten herself frog legs. The legs were deep fried in some sort of tempura and came arranged in a circle around a little bowl with some asian hot sauce. (It was one of those somewhat fancy restaurants where they think itsy bits of grub artistically arranged fills your belly). Feeling somewhat emasculated by my own choice of green salad with tofu and raspberry vinaigrette, I decided to take Gina up when she offered me some frog leg (while not making eye contact). I thought this was Asian demureness at the time, which I found quite alluring.

But anyway, I ate one. It must have been a big frog because it had a big-ass leg. I think it tasted like chicken, but more amphibious. Anyway, I washed it down with more beer, and didn't think any more of it; we had a play to go see, and we needed to hurry.

The play was uneventful and so was most of the pitstop afterward. We were midway through another round of beer and chips when I got a sudden spasm in my midriff. "Ah, well, yogi, you're getting old", I thought to myself, and I stretched a bit. No problemo. I downed a bunch of water and then we left for the night.

The second spasm hit when I was peeing at home. "Hm. Come now, yogi. Surely, you didn't drink THAT much, did you? You must be a little dehydrated, plus all that sitting through the play..." but still, I didn't think much of it and went to sleep.

Well, it turns out that I have a checkpoint in my gut, around where the stomach gives way to the small intestine. I call it Checkpoint Charlie, like in Berlin. It's sort of like immigration check. Unsavory characters get held up for a bit, and then if you're brown and have a beard, you're in for an extra check, lubed up baton and all. And then if you happen to have crummy papers, you're out. You and your belongings do a U-turn and head back to wherever you came from.

So around 2 am the frog legs got a thumbs-down from Checkpoint Charlie. Which is when they packed their bags and trudged back up. But see, by then they had already dispersed out a lot and were swimming in a sea of beer, and because Checkpoint Charlie sends out bad guys bit by bit, it makes for a long drawn out process. This was when I started feeling really bad, and I was pretty sure what was coming. The thing about the process is
a. Once the U-turn is made, there's no stopping it
b. The exodus is forceful
c. It is also extremely thorough

So I parked myself near the toilet and let it start. And it did start. It was good. It was spectacular, even. I think I should spare you the details, but I was done by the end of it, which was midway through the next morning. Done. I couldn't move, my head was killing me, my body was killing me, my abs were killing me, I had a fever, but surprisingly, the bottom half of my GI tract was absolutely fine. It was like the West Germans that were milling around in Berlin and had just not noticed a bunch of East Germans being given the finger.

So yeah, even though I lost a solid five pounds and my abs look sculpted, it was less than a pleasant way to start the birthday week. Anyway that's the story I thought I should tell you on this beautiful day. Makes the second half of the week feel even better. It also adds one item to the (short) list of things I think I should avoid in the future.

Happy Birthday, me.

KR Sridhar and the BloomBox - must see video!

Watch CBS News Videos Online

Can this really be true? The "beach sand" is obviously SiO2, but I wonder what's in the green and black paints... at $3000/box, he is right, this will revolutionize the way we produce energy. Can't wait to read more on this. And a desi geek to boot! Yay!!!

Shaun White can board.

Damn! Well, OK, I'm not a big fan of the winter olympics; I watch it mostly to catch the wipe-outs, like this poor lady who crossed the finish line in the air, facing skyward, head first, at the end of the alpine. I laughed mercilessly as she picked her bruised body (and ego) up and trudged off to cry on her coach's shoulder. Well, OK, I chuckled a bit, and then felt bad. Anyway, my point is that I'm not much of a connoisseur.

But then I just saw Shaun White (not a big fan of him either) pull off a RIDICULOUS two runs on the half pipe. I mean, it was unreal. Un. Real. I have rarely seen such a separation between the top two athletes in any sport (barring Usain Bolt and Michael Phelps obviously) as I did today, when he thulped the competition into the ground. Bigger air, cleaner technique and great tricks. And then on his victory lap (he was already assured a gold after his first run), he executes a ridiculous I don't know what. Three and a half turns, double flip and oh I don't know, I think he made a bird's nest out of his hair at the end before he landed. Clean.

You could hear the announcers gush over it like 12 year old girls ad try to one-up each other trying to figure out what it was called. Thanks NBC for fucking it up for me. But except that, it was awesome.

Funny Home Video - Hilarious FAIL by roommate

Aw, jeez... So you know the whole of the Northeast has been blanketed by snow. Well, we got a solid two and a half feet, and so a couple days back my roomies tried to go up to the roof and clean the snow off, just in case it caved in or something. Well, you know what's coming.

Slippery roof + Uncoordinated roommate = Unintended (but perfectly foreseeable) Hilarity. Glad I had the presence of mind to shoot. (ah, yogi's powers of intuition...)

Song Lyrics I got all wrong

I've been the butt of many, many jokes because of my complete inability to get song lyrics right - I just can't help it. And these aren't your 120 mile an hour RATM lyrics (which no one gets, come on now, be honest. "Since 1516 minds attacked and overseen"? Really?), these are lyrics that many others might get, but I just don't. I've thought about it, and I think that the cause is fourfold:
One, my hearing is bad;
two, my native tongue is not English;
three, I don't really care what they're crooning/yelling/grunting, and
four, it makes more sense with my lyrics. Some times.

But still all I plead is this: put yourself in my shoes with these handicaps, and then listen to these songs. You'll find that I wasn't that far off...

The marginal ones: There are always the marginal ones, like Penny Lane -Beatles; I always thought it was
"Penny Lane, within my ears and in my eyes..."
turns out it's
"Penny Lane, IS IN my ears and in my eyes..."
Big deal. Same idea. I know what you're saying, Lennon, but your crap Brit accent (and poor 60s recording) is throwing me off a bit.

The logical ones: Some of my lyrics were nonsensical in the context of the song, but made reasonable logical sense as independent phrases. Michael Jackson Man in the Mirror:
"... I'm asking him to change his ways/And no message could have been any clearer..."
became
"... and no Mustang was a Benz and a Clipper..."
I mean, why would a dude be comparing automobiles in the middle of a song I wouldn't know, but it is true that a Mustang is neither a Benz nor a Clipper.

The ones born out of ignorance: So you know how in the song With Teeth from the album of the same name, Trent Reznor goes
"Withthhe TEEEEEEETTHTHTHTH-UHHH..."
Well, if I had known that the name of the song was with teeth, I may have gotten what he was saying. But what with Trent stretching a two syllabic phrase to sound like it had seventeen, I thought he was saying
"To entertain LUUUUVVE..."
(This one almost got me beat up)

Confusion about message of the song: You know the song Weak and Powerless - Perfect Circle? Well, when Maynard sings
"Desperaaaaaate, and ravenous...
so weeeeeaaak and powerleesss...",
I thought it was more of a gung-ho pick-me-up song, and so, naturally, my brain sings
"Desperaaaaaate, and loneleyyyy.... (yes it DOES sound like lonely)
So weeeee can power thiiiissss..."
You know, like a "hey buddy, I know you're feeling low, but we can power this shit. Listen to my song and then go do it man!" See? Plain ol' confusion.

Top three for longevity. Plus for some reason I have a soft spot for these three that I completely messed up. Why, I don't know, but here they are:

3. Sad but true - Metallica. I thought it was "self control" for the longest time. I mean, if you're singing about how I'm your dreams mind astray, I'm your eyes when you're awake and all that, I thought you were defining my self control.

2. Living on a prayer: I thought it went "...take my hand and we'll make it elsewhere..." you know, because Bon Jovi always has a back-up option. Because he's from Jersey.

1. Clocks - ColdPlay. This one really messed me up, and continues to do so every time I hear it. You know how Chris Martin croons
"And noooothing else compaaaaarrresss...."?
I thought it was
"and Iiii feel a stomachaaaaaache..." (more like stumcaaaaake)
I swear. No kidding. Well, he did sound like he was having digestive difficulties, but still, I KNEW that wasn't what he was singing. I mean, ColdPlay just doesn't write shit like that. they're all about love and angst and women and stuff. But it totally got me.

So there it is - feel free to comment and let me know of your favorite lyrics that you butchered. Because really, I'm going to be waiting with bated breath.

Rachel Maddow - unfortunate headline

I love Rachel and her show, and I think she's the best around, but given how she rolls, I think this was a somewhat unfortunate headline on HuffPo...

Why India SUCKS at athletics

...well, not just Indians, but also Pakistanis and Sri Lankans and Bangladeshis and Nepalis and Bhutanese. And whoever the hell participates in the South Asian Games. In this particular case, the giant snafu was in Dhaka, Bangladesh, where I hope heads roll for this, but this gives you an idea of the amount South Asians care for athletics.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/sports/events-tournaments/south-asian-games/South-Asian-Games-Marathon-ends-7-kms-short-of-official-distance/articleshow/5553100.cms

THEY CAN'T MEASURE THE DAMN DISTANCE REQUIRED FOR A MARATHON.

Oh, and the Indians were far better, check this out: they missed the entire closing ceremony because of a traffic jam.


At first it's funny, and then it's really, really sad. Don't give me this b.s. of "oh we're a poor nation, we're just developing, there aren't any funds." If you can't make it to the ceremony of the games where you won some 90 gold medals, you suck. That's it.

Best ad of the superbowl hands down

Things I didn't do in 2009

Things I didn't do in 2009 (again, an egocentric list that I put together because I felt like it. And the mulled wine in my belly on this superbowl night makes me want to type). For no particular reason, the order is mostly reverse-chronological:

1. Didn't go to Turkey. Because my friends hate me and went without me.
2. Didn't go to Peru. Because the same friends also wimped out.
3. Didn't insist on going to a better cabin in upstate NY. Regretted that one, though it made for a good story.
4. Didn't cut back on the alcohol, coffee and hot sauce even though I knew hops, caffeine and habaneros give me the shits
5. Didn't go to South Africa, even though everything was already arranged.
6. Didn't murder my boss for having pulled the rug from under my feet re. SA trip. Came close though.
7. Didn't do as much endurance working out as I would have liked. This includes marathon sex sessions, which were non-existent in 2009, sadly.
8. Didn't help my friend when he wiped out badly in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country - laughed uproariously instead and cramped. Which I feel bad about now, but he did OK eventually.
9. Didn't move out, because I thought the vermin we caught in our crawl space in the summer was an isolated incident. This again turned out to be a mistaken assumption.
10. Didn't buy a house because the bankers are gigantic wankers. But I think I dodged a bullet on this one...
11. Didn't correct my barber when he thought I was a surgeon. He continues to think I am, so I hope he doesn't expect me work a miracle if his wife collapses at the shop.
12. Didn't call tattoo woman back. If you know the story, you know why. If you don't, it means I have a fragile ego. Just take my word for it.
13. Speaking of which, continued to have an abysmal track record of falling for unavailable women while ignoring perfectly fine single ones.
13. Didn't do my usual quota of NASCAR or NFL games. TV and living in the boonies took care of that.
14. Didn't get pubs even though I seemed to be working quite a bit.

Hm. That's about it - '09 was so quiet I didn't even feel that there was a bunch of stuff I missed out on. There you go. Here's a photo (taken in the basement of a building at work) that seems somewhat appropriate. I think it sums up my 2009.

Recap of 2009

So you're wondering why this post is a month late?

Or maybe you aren't. Either way. January came and went, and I didn't feel like it or was too busy, or couldn't be arsed. That's it. Besides, who really cares, honestly. So without any further ado, here's what 2009 was like - more than anythings else, just to remind me about what the hell happened. I'm getting old and what-not...

1. Ate a huge square pizza while getting drunk on new year's eve (OK that's '08, but it crept into '09, so it counts).
2. Froze my butt off to watch Obama take the (mangled) Oath of Office. All downhill since then, eh, O-man?
3. Learned to make peace with my roommate's girlfriend's neutered dog humping its stuffed pillow non-stop (still wondering why they do it).
4. Got REE-JECted by an awesome Brit chick. One of many such rejects in 2009.
5. My granddad died when I was on the back 9 somewhere in Pennsylvania. That hurt for a long time. He was a good man.
6. Ate pig tongue. About as tasty as it sounds.
7. Saw some kick-ass concerts (and saw a girl get ejected for kicking someone's ass)
8. Killed mice and rats in and around the house. This was a continuing theme for '09.
9. Learned (with some dismay) that my nieces were learning to play the clarinet and flute. Not as dismayed as their parents though, I suspect.
10. Almost bought some pottery on the way to Gettysburg.
11. Almost died from mosquito bites at Chincoteague.
12. Played too much mini golf. Didn't get any better. Or worse.
13. Hiked on exactly 0.2 miles of the Appalachian Trail.
14. Had to ask 60 year old mother to help me make a campfire. Both me and my dad failed spectacularly; she did just fine.
15. Faced an epic meltdown in Vegas over being late for a flight (we weren't).
16. Dodged lightning at Bryce. Immediately followed by dodging hail, while eating soggy chutney-and-bhujia sandwiches.
17. Bought a pull-up bar to fight the flab. Briefly considered changing the name of the blog to Pullupyogi.
18. Walked.
19. Got the shits (bad) somewhere in the middle of the Solent. Learned that toilet splashback is a real risk when sailing in choppy waters on a challenger class yacht.
20. Held up an international flight on account of being late. Again.
21. Dressed like a 1920's newsboy and rode around DC in my Bianchi. Got featured in the local paper for my pains.
22. Dressed up as an R-rated fictional super-hero. People with a sense of humor were impressed. The rest can go screw themselves.
23. Got stuck in a ratty cabin in Upstate NY where nothing (fridge, oven, lights, toilet, heater) worked. Loads of alcohol helped soothe the pain.
24. Broke my lower control arm on a highway in rural PA in front of a 7-11. Helpful Indian (of course) shop owner helped sort out the mess.
25. Laughed uncontrollably when my friend wrecked his scooter in Nassau. Became probably the first idiot ever to ask for directions to the water when on an island.
26. Ate the most delicious mango this side of the Atlantic in a shed on the way to the Everglades. Stared down an alligator and ran like a girl when it moved.
27. Decided that East Coast road trip was less fun than West Coast road trip. Maybe traveling with cousin instead of lady friend had something to do with it.
28. Worked quite a bit.

Yep, that was about it. Overall, I'd say it was a quiet year. But thanks to a lot of really awesome people who I crossed paths with, it made it all good. I've shared lots of little stories with family and friends that made my life in '09, and continue to make my life in '10, truly happy.

Why cars are like women - one more reason

So you know how they say cars are like women because they're awesome, they're sexy, they are expensive, all that stuff. Well, here's another reason.

How your car behaves under stress can be determined by who drove it before you.

If someone totally messed with your car before you got it, it may look great from the outside, but every once in a while, you're in bumfuck Pennsylvania and you brake hard, and then the damn thing could just break. And then my friend, you're screwed.

ps: Of course, if you get a completely new car you won't have this problem, but then getting it broken in can be like pulling teeth...

When your Lower Control Arm snaps...

... when you're driving on a highway, it isn't a good thing. So for those of you who don't know, the lower control arm in your car is basically the thing that connects your wheel to your car frame, axle and steering link, so that the weight is held up by the frame, while the the steering wheel and the axle control turning and thrust. All in all, an important part of the car, unlike, say, the temperature control on the passenger side seat, or the light that turns on when you flip down the mirror in the sun visor...

So here is how a lower control arm should look:

And this is how my lower control arm looked at the local AAMCO in bumfuck Pennsylvania.

See that giant crack? Yeah, that happened to me when I was driving in PA in the middle of nowhere, at 50 mph or so. When your front passenger side just crumples, you know you're in trouble. Fortunately, yogi is endowed with pretty good driving skills, so apart from the slightly soiled pants, nothing else was damaged. Another stroke of luck: the car gave out right in front of a 7-11/gas station. Hello Indian people... (the dude was from Punjab, and was cool enough to let me abandon the car there - the tow truck didn't show until two days later).

It cost me a solid 800 bucks (a bit more) and a week to replace the control arm and the axle (bent out of shape), plus labor and towing. But on the other hand, I'm alive, so it's good. Phew.

Skinny Puppy at DC

I was just looking at some of my cell phone pics when I saw a couple that took a second to register. And then of course I remembered the concert. It's the one where the six foot tall Jewish girl (not counting her 6 inch platforms) that me and my buddies had gone with got thrown out for punching a somewhat overenthusiastic fan in the face. (The guy's dancing got somewhat muted after this incident. I also saw him get some ice from the bartender afterward, so I guess there was some shoulder behind that punch).

Anyway, if you think you're seeing a dude swathed in bloody bandages and wearing a dunce cap, you would be correct. That's Nivek Ogre, the frontman for Skinny Puppy - an awesome industrial band that you should really listen to. if you think their old stuff is a bit much to stomach, their sound has gotten more refined these past few years. But there's no mistaking who they are. Their music is fantastic, and their shows are even better. The guy showed up in a walker, mask, and bloody costume, which he then peeled off in layers as the night went on.


Oh, midway through, the dunce cap started smoking. And there was (fake) blood sprayed on stage. Certain to give the fainthearted some serious nightmares. In other words, fucking awesome.

But in the middle of all this, I do have one small request for people wanting to mosh. If you are a fat ass weighing in at more than, oh I don't know, a buck eighty, take it easy on the Indian dude who's there for the music, will you? Especially if you have long dirty blond dreads that whip around in three foot arcs (at eye-level on a crowded floor. Deadly), and if you are the sweaty type that wears no-sleeve tees (to an industrial concert on a cold November evening). Thanks.

"Climategate" destroyed.

I've had to deal with people asking me about climategate for a few days now, and to be honest, I wasn't *quite* able to convince myself that I was giving them a succinct argument as to why this whole made-up conspiracy was just that - made-up.

And then I came across this video, that in 10 short minutes absolutely destroys the whole argument. Fortunately, it looks like it's made by someone who understands the science and has linked to the original papers in question. Note also that there are no excuses made for Jones hiding data. But it should be noted that there's just a wee bit of a difference between one scientist talking about withholding data in an email, and the entire scientific community fabricating a global phenomenon over several decades.

So, the next time someone badgers you about the global warming conspiracy, don't slap your forehead (or their face). Hit them with this video instead.

Tweed Ride - Yogi is famous!

Who would've thunk that. Apparently if you hang around a Penny Farthing long enough you get your mug in the local paper. Either that or the combination of the Indian dude and the U-Haul was too much for the editor to resist. Anyway, just so you know, I am now officially a celebrity, so buy me a beer, will ya?

Yeah, I know, I got sandwiched (for eternity now) between Janet Jackson and Khaled Fucking Sheikh Mohammed. But you know how it is, you got to grab all the opportunities you have to tell everyone how awesome you are...

DC Tweed Ride photos

Finally, a chance to upload some photos that don't really do justice to what was a really awesome event. There's this peculiar little group called Dandies and Quaintrelles that decided that this fall would be a great time to go out and reclaim the streets of downtown DC for bicyclists. When wearing our best tweed, of course. Because that's how we roll.

The event was called the DC Tweed Ride, and a solid 500 people (at the every least, I should think) showed up on what was a beautiful fall morning. Yogi is not quite a morning person, especially in the absence of caffeine, but still I showed up to see this:

Yep. Absolute mayhem in some alley chock-full of nattily dressed DC locals in tweed, somewhere in Northeast DC.

There were accessories too. Pipes -

Moustaches (some fake, some real)

And a couple Penny Farthings. Awesome.


We took DC by storm. Well, we biked through a bunch of lights and used up all the lanes, which made us feel invincible (not bad for a couple hours a year). We doffed our hats often, waved our parasols, and there was a bunch of "Hellooo there"s and "Good Morning to you Sir"s and "Hip Hip Hoorah"s being dished out by the riders to somewhat dazed onlookers, who fell neatly into one of three categories:

1. What the fuck. Get out of my way, assholes. (These, to DC's credit, were few and far between)
2. Aw, sweet. Antique bikes and Tweed! And doesn't that Indian dude look cute. Clap, clap, and/or honk honk.
3. Man, what the fuck did that dude/chick slip in my drink last night...

But we rode on, undeterred.



We stopped over at the white house. The big man wasn't in, unfortunately... Schmoozing with the Chinese so we can still live happy debt-ridden lives, apparently.

And since no event is quite complete without a bunch of beer to wet parched throats (warm day + physical activity + tweed? Phew!) we went and got plastered at a local bar. I thought Marvin's looked like a speakeasy packed with one hell of a good-looking crowd that day... Good times.

Also, for photos that don't suck, and for English that's a lot cleaner, you really should check this link.

Back after a HUGE break

Like you care, pushupreader... Like. You. Care.

But still, I feel like I need to explain the absence. Just so I can get those rusty fingers working...

1. Work after sailing has been bad. Not busy bad. Worse. Not-Working bad. Nothing- Fucking-Works bad.

2. Got a talking to from the boss-man based on work being Nothing-Fucking-Works bad. Boss-man seems to think Nothing-Fucking-Works = Yogi-Ain't-Working.

2a. Getting a talking to from Boss-man is bad. As in, not I'll-cut-off-your-funding bad, but I'm-cutting-off-your-balls-in-front-of-everyone-let's-see-how-smart-you-are-now-asshole bad.

3. Surprisingly though, this hasn't spurred me into working harder. I just get pissed off a lot easier. And stew in my juices, instead of writing.

4. Also, there have been adventures, as always. These have kept me sane. Sure I'm going to blog about the pushy mother, ghetto cabin and broken axle. Of course.

But first, a nice pic from Seneca Aqueduct. it's a great place to go for a hike in Maryland on the banks o the Potomac, even if it's in frigid conditions.

There you have it. OK, enough of all this bearing my heart out bullshit. More writing coming.