My Addled Brain

The 500 pound gorrila that has been sitting in my office has finally wandered off to sit at someone else’s desk, and the project from hell is now in final testing. You have no idea how relieved this makes me. I’ve been dealing with vague requirements, inconsistent goals, shifting opinions, and inane questions for almost two months now. Now, I can finally get past that and move to the next project, which is full of vague requirements, inconsistent goals, shifting opinions, and inane questions, I’m sure. Oh well, gorillas are cute, in a life-threatening sort of way.

Saw the youngster on Wednesday, and got to feed her. Lucky me, I didn’t get spit up on, or have to change a diaper. This time. Next time, I have a feeling I won’t be so lucky. She’s still beautiful, though. I grilled some burgers and hot dogs, the Madre made everything else, and we had a dinner that, for the first time in forever, reminded me of the meals I used to eat when I was a kid - except now I eat them with grilled onions and red peppers.

Random link time! Sure, you’re fashion hound, but are those clothes cool with God? UFO? Pet? We may never know. MCG! I found your next pet! Does this make Sadaam Megatron, or Starscream? Cricket can be enjoyed by everyone. See kids? War can be fun! Komo-dun, you’re my hero! Only one man can stop the Jacksons from hurling babies to their doom: Hitler! And finally: Grown-up male hamsters have very very big balls.

I spent most of today moving Shotty Lotty out of Metropolis and into Tampa. Brain + Heavy lifting = sore back. Suddenly, I’m not so nostalgic for Brooksville - it’s apparently been whipped out of me. Just remember - Advil is your friend, and when it’s not, Tylenol with Codene is there like that junkie friend who’s been sleeping on your couch for the last three months: sure, you wish he’d leave, but after that crappy day of work, he’s got just what you need to get you through the day.

MCG wasn’t there to help either - apparently he had a baby or something. Likely story. By the time we had moved in the last of the furniture, unboxed some of the pictures, and reconstructed their entertainment complex, it was damn near 5pm, and there was someplace else I needed to be.

I know none of you are here for my antics these days - so here’s the scoop: Emily is doing great. Her favorite pasttimes are eating, sleeping, and pooping, most likely not necessarily in that order - I’m not sure because despite her size, she ain’t talkin. MCG is looking a bit tired - but apparently she kept them up a good bit of the night, not to mention the endless parade of visitors traipsing in and out of their room all day. I’ve put up some more pics from last night in Out of Focus for you baby junkies to peruse.

“All babies look like me. But then, I look like all babies.” - Sir Winston Churchill

Emily Paige Glisson, born March 21, 2003 at 6:38 PM to Kent and Miah Glisson. She weighed 9 pounds 6 ounces at birth, and measured 21 1/2 inches. I am now an Uncle, and MCG is officially a Father. I am overwhelmed at the pride I have for him, his wife, and their beautiful new child - hell, I don’t think I could be any prouder if she were my own.

And, as promised, the unveiling of Major Kick Ass Wife’s new nickname. Spent a while on this one, but I think it fits: Emily’s Mom.

Screw you. I’m not let down by that name at all.

No, there is no baby yet. No, there is no wedding update yet. No, the two are not related.

This weekend marks the passing of an era. I will drive to the metropolis of Brooksville Saturday, and Ubergeek and I shall officially move the last of Shotty Lotty’s things from her and my uncle’s house, and set them up at their new home in Tampa. This is rather remarkable, as now I have almost no reason to visit there anymore…and no visits mean no Coney Island, home of the greatest Chili Cheese Dog to ever grace this planet. But Coney Island is kind of a side note. It’s going to be very strange to visit them in their new home, and not be able to relax on their giant pit group, or gather 10 people around the kitchen island to chow down on an obscene spread of snacks, or late nights with a horde of grandchildren dancing to Pac Man Fever or whatever the kids were into at the time. Farewell, Blanchard Ct. - you shall be missed.

As I write, things have changed: Baby coming. Will keep you posted.

There is still no baby. Emily has passed her due date, thus solidifying her place as a Glisson once and for all. By this, I refer to the fact that I was born two weeks late, and showed no intention of leaving anytime soon when they doctors performed a c-section on the Madre in order to extract me. Hey, it’s warm in there, and I didn’t have to feed myself. MCG would have probably been late too, but they just went ahead and yanked him out the same way.

Which leads me to tell this classic joke: How can you tell when a person was born from a c-section? They leave their house through a window. *Rim shot*.

More wedding bells - congratulations to Jason and Joy, who have (rather surprisingly) decided to tie the proverbial knot. I say surprisingly because, last I heard, that was the last thing either of them wanted to do. Figures - you go and buy a house together, you start feeling all family like.

And I swear I’ll have an update done this week. Cross my heart. Work has just been an unbelieveable bastard lately. Yeah yeah, excuses excuses.

And finally, from the way-too-much-free-time-dept., we bring you this nugget of joy. I’m not sure what amazes me more - that a human can actually move that fast and not fight crime, or they actually hold contests for that sort of thing.

Guess who finally got his static IP? That’s right, me, baby. ME. This is why the site went down for a brief period, so the site could get off the virtual redirect and onto the real web. Glad to see my well spent money is well spent…erm…

I’d also like to welcome Andy to the VH family, and sincerely hope that you don’t get a static IP faster than I did, because that means I will have to kill you. No, really. Now go check out his new and timely post on our favorite sound effects man.

Hey, remember that wedding site? Me too, really! I’ve written the first part about six times, but I’m not very happy with any of them, so I’m gonna either keep trying until I get it right, or slap them all up and let everyone pick them apart until we come up with one that won’t get me disowned. I do hope to have something soon in either case.

MKAW still hasn’t finished what she and MCG started nine months ago, to both of their delight, I’m sure. You know, move of us would sleep better at night if you’d just go and get Emily out here. Quit being so selfish.

On a related note, I have MKAW’s new nickname worked out. To be revealed upon the arrival of my niece…

*taps microphone* Is this thing on?

Yes, I’m still alive, but I’d be lying to you if I told you I felt wonderful - because I don’t. I got hammered at work this week with many, many things that had to be done “right now”, and for a change they all actually meant it. So, I got to bury myself in reports and numbers and policies and contact lists and procedures and - and - and -

But I’m feeling much better now. Well, at least I’m not contemplating ditching everything and moving overseas, anyway. Just think, I could become one of those cheese-eating surrender monkeys, with a silly greased mustache and talk boastfully how I lived in a nation that chooses to take the moral high road by not wanting to oust a known dictator that’s been politically pantsing the world for over a decade. Vive La Resistance!

Otherwise, not much is entertaining with the Brain lately. Even Robby’s feeling it these days, although I suspect his lacadasical behavior is more due to his botched attempt at marketing baggage screening machines that gave random false positives, in an attempt to make air travel even more inconvenient than it currently is. However, since flying has been scientifically proven to be as painfully annoying as it possibly can, his efforts only netted him a few hundred million, which he prompty blew on a russian Soyuz 2 with a faulty booster. It’s sitting in my bedroom now, so I have to sleep on the couch, and Robby’s got the rocket up on blocks like it was an ‘85 Camaro in front of a trailer park. Classy.