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Discharging my menagerial duties.
Jun. 27th, 2008 11:48 amIt's a zoo all up in heeerrrrrrre today (thanks, Curtis). Still in full-tilt-boogie-proposal mode, and as brevity is ever the filet of soul (or perhaps the crochet of consciousness), I will be carless and boxer brief:
Final draft of proposal is not terribly drafty. I have three sets of comments to implement, but I might actually get most of teh weekend off. Good.
Proposal is due Monday 2 p.m.; I will likely take Monday afternoon and Tuesday off, even though it's a new pay period and I'm not allowed to smoosh overtime hours across pay period borders. My boss is pretty good about these things.
Tomorrow afternoon I take a B30 bus to BWI whence whisked will I be by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
composerscott for what amounts to our second date, if indeed that's what it is. He's cooking dinner for me, so me likee. Then we go to a party where... well... stuff is reputed to be in the offing. Stuff like underwear. Though not necessarily stuffed underwear. We'll see: if it's anything like the last sech party, Skippy will be pleased by the proliferation of 20-nothing twinkboys. I just hope my little musclepup "Runt" and his pal Jon are there again :)
Cheese Lords had they annual biz meeting Wednesday night at Michel Richard's Citronelle restaurant in Georgetown. Most everything was really yummy—it seems I've never had a truly good vichyssoise before, because this one was a revelation—and our sommelier, to whom several Cheese Lords seem already to have proposed marriage, paired each of the seven courses with a different wine, a couple of which took our palettes on a wrenchingly different direction from their previous route. The salmon was exquise, the prime rib subprime, the cheese just stinky enough, the dessert superfluous except inasmuch as it was an excuse to bust out a 45-year-old port. While eating and drinking, also talking; we got through a ton of business and tabled a bit for a few weeks from now. After the meeting, cigars; after cigars; Billy Martin's Tavern.
I have malaise. These last three mornings have been harsh, with nuisant throat and sini and general achiness and lethargy. I got agued night's sleep last night. Still no major snot production, so thank heathens for small (but efficient) spiracles. Trepanning not nece thus far.
Lunch is here. I am gone.
P.S. Google sez: Results 1 - 10 of about 666 for menagerial. (0.22 seconds)
Final draft of proposal is not terribly drafty. I have three sets of comments to implement, but I might actually get most of teh weekend off. Good.
Proposal is due Monday 2 p.m.; I will likely take Monday afternoon and Tuesday off, even though it's a new pay period and I'm not allowed to smoosh overtime hours across pay period borders. My boss is pretty good about these things.
Tomorrow afternoon I take a B30 bus to BWI whence whisked will I be by
composerscott for what amounts to our second date, if indeed that's what it is. He's cooking dinner for me, so me likee. Then we go to a party where... well... stuff is reputed to be in the offing. Stuff like underwear. Though not necessarily stuffed underwear. We'll see: if it's anything like the last sech party, Skippy will be pleased by the proliferation of 20-nothing twinkboys. I just hope my little musclepup "Runt" and his pal Jon are there again :)Cheese Lords had they annual biz meeting Wednesday night at Michel Richard's Citronelle restaurant in Georgetown. Most everything was really yummy—it seems I've never had a truly good vichyssoise before, because this one was a revelation—and our sommelier, to whom several Cheese Lords seem already to have proposed marriage, paired each of the seven courses with a different wine, a couple of which took our palettes on a wrenchingly different direction from their previous route. The salmon was exquise, the prime rib subprime, the cheese just stinky enough, the dessert superfluous except inasmuch as it was an excuse to bust out a 45-year-old port. While eating and drinking, also talking; we got through a ton of business and tabled a bit for a few weeks from now. After the meeting, cigars; after cigars; Billy Martin's Tavern.
I have malaise. These last three mornings have been harsh, with nuisant throat and sini and general achiness and lethargy. I got agued night's sleep last night. Still no major snot production, so thank heathens for small (but efficient) spiracles. Trepanning not nece thus far.
Lunch is here. I am gone.
P.S. Google sez: Results 1 - 10 of about 666 for menagerial. (0.22 seconds)
