Today I Limited My Career...on Purpose

Most of my colleagues would say that I've done a fairly solid job of managing to keep my work life and my personal life in balance. I disagree, but everything is relative. Let's put it this way. I currently earn 22 days of vacation each year and typically carryover no less that half of those days each year.

Today, I made a choice to improve my life. I gave my preliminary notice. I told the folks at McCall, Gilchrist & Haynes that I am finished with the consulting lifestyle as they define it and am actively seeking a new job.

• I'm done with living on the road for at least four days a week for nine to 18 months at a time
  
  
• I'm tired of having stronger relationships with hotel staff than with my friends back home
  
  
• I'm tired of driving rental cars more than my own although I do appreciate the opportunity to demo potential replacements for a week
  
  
• I'd like to be excited to go to airports instead of immediately starting the countdown until my return flight home
  
  
• I'd like to understand what it's like to stay in your hometown for a month without going anywhere
  
  

Consulting, particularly in my skill area, is a very small world. Conferences feel like a high school class reunion. Colleagues become clients and vice-versa. I thought it best to avoid burning any bridges and only lightly singe them instead. Hopefully that's what I've done.

366 Days & Counting

My Cell, originally uploaded by JaseMan.

On this day in history:

1806: The Holy Roman Empire ended

1890: First electrocution by electric chair

1911: Lucille Ball was born

1928: Andy Warhol was born

1932: The drive-in movie was patented

1945: The Enola Gay dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima

1967: Mike Greenberg was born

1984: Prince released Purple Rain

1998: Monica Lewinsky testified before the Grand Jury about her relationship with President Clinton

2007: I started traveling to Ft. Worth on a weekly basis to work my current project. I was told that I couldn't decline it because I was a named resource in the contract. I should have started sending out my resume right then.

Hold still while I punch you in the face

Everyone has to put up with stupid people at their job. It's a fact. I like to think that the stupid people I work with are extra stupid.

My client requires background investigations on all personnel working on-site. The BIs are conducted by a reputable company with details going to only to me and the client's security group.

The only steps requiring effort from my colleagues is them filling out an authorization form correctly. SSN. DOB. First name. Last name. Etc. None of these are trick questions yet some folks have not yet figured out their birth date or their name.

Failure to complete the form correctly results in names not matching SSN records and life history which results in a BI rejection which results in the client escorting you from the premises which results in you not working on the project which results you potentially losing your job with McCall, Gilchrist & Haynes.

My colleagues know this. One would think that they would figure out the correct way to complete the form. Wrong. They screw it up all the time.

Today a colleague demonstrated a higher MQ (moron quotient) than I had ever experienced.

"Hi. It's JB. I need to get your actual name."

"OK. It's [not what was written on the form]."

"Confirm your birth date, please." He had screwed up this the first time he completed the form.

"It's [blah, blah, blah, blah, blah]."

"What's the purpose of this test?"

"The client needs to verify that you're not a terrorist."

"Can't you use the BI from when I was hired by MGH?"

"No. It has to be this one."

"But I don't understand why you can't use my previous results."

"It has to be this vendor. It is a national security issue."

"But I've worked for other companies that have been able to use previous BI results."

"That's great. But, that's not the case here."

"I can't believe that I need to fill out the same forms that I just did for MGH."

"This is a Department of Homeland Security issue. You have to use this vendor."

"But, I just..."

"Listen. THEY DON'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU JUST PASSED FIVE BACKGROUND SCREENS IN THE PAST SIX MONTHS! YOU HAVE TO COMPLETE THIS ONE!"

"O.K."

YGBFKM. I slammed the phone slightly as a I hung up and then walked a lap around the building before returning to my cube cell.

It's Quittin' Time

I'm looking for a new job in a major way, people. And by "major way," I mean that I have updated my resume and applied for five yobs over the past couple of weeks.

Don't ask me why or I may punch you in the face. Not really, but kinda. Have you read this blog or talked to me much? I bitch a lot about work. I know this.

I'm finally ready to through in the towel at McCall, Gilchrist & Haynes. I'm realigned with my original career coach. I've been back on the road for nearly a year, which means that I am more certain than ever that I'm sick of it - no matter how many free trips I earn. And, I just eclipsed the ten year mark with MG&H.

Guess what I get for that. Guess! Guess! I'll give you ten guesses and you probably still won't get it.

Finished? You'd better sit down. Drum roll, please.

I get a fruit basket. Yep, a fruit basket with genuine pears and oranges and stuff. Hell no I'm not disappointed. It is from Harry & David after all. I will say that I wish they would have sprung for the Jelly of the Month Club.

Assholes.

Attention! Attention! The Real World is Back!

I finished my first week of "real work" on my new project this week. Holy shit! This is what working is like? [Note: shut your pie hole if you were about to say something about manual labor. I've done that, too.] 55 hours a week ain't gonna last or I'm not. Get it?

The upside is the fact that my clients are smart, technologically able and well-liked by their colleagues. The latter should pay off when we get around to pulling the trigger on our new solutions.

Oh, and it should go without saying, traveling every week sucks. But, flying to a place that is only a 45 minute flight away with flights running every 45 minutes is only way to go if I have to travel.

Know anyone looking to put a freelance slacker on the payroll? I may be able to find you one.

Poison, poison. It's driving me outta my head.

Work has been an interesting experience ever since I rotated back into the general population. No more working from home from 10 am to 8 pm in my Batman PJs for days on end. No more fancy pants EVDO connection so that I can work from anywhere in the Wide World of Sports that I so desire. In short, my flexibility is gone.

I'm not looking for sympathy. I realized that the work location part of that job was the gravy train. Rather, I am merely pointing out that I've had a bit of trouble adjusting.

I struggled to find the fun in work since I jettisoned the PJs and began commuting to the office. Fortunately, I was accepted by the finance folks and permitted to join their commune of insane sanity within the bastion of boredom that is the balance of the cube farm.

Commuting still stinks, but at least my compadres are a good time. They rattle off jokes and movie quotes like college kids all day but still get the work done. Plus, Nick is a YouTube junky who sends me links all day.

Here's today's YouTube highlight; my favorite scene from Scrubs.

Looks great on paper

Pundits, teachers, parents and that guy on the corner keep telling us that we may learn a thing or two about our future by examining where we've been. Huh. OK, Kreskin, let's take a look back at my job history. There's no way in hell this will help me sort out my career woes. Believe me, I've tried. But, if that guy on the corner says it'll help, it must be true. Plus, I just so happen to the paper plate listing all of yobs handy.

Yeah, I said my jobs are listed on a paper plate. The short story is that the FatBayou Millennial Haze crew was sitting around the elephant house chatting about jobs we had had while we awaited the arrival of the end of the world in late December 1999. I was unable to find a piece of paper large enough for my list so I wrote them on a paper plate.

All jobs included on the list below were jobs for which I received a payroll check. Jobs for which I was paid cash for services rendered are not included. That list is long, sordid and complex. I thrive on simple.

JB el JB's List of Yobs

1. Bus Boy, The Pilot House Restaurant & Marina
   
2. Drive-thru Monkey, McDonald's
   
3. Utility Burgerman, McDonald's
   
4. Scooper & Cake Maker, Baskin-Robbins
   
5. Prep Cook, Fudpucker's
   
6. Dishwasher, The Back Porch
   
7. Painter, Rubicon
   
8. Engineering Intern, Sunland Fabricator's
   
9. Welder's Assistant, Sunland Fabricator's
   
10. Office Assistant, LSU Vice Chancellor's Office
    
11. Bartender, Lion's Club Bingo Hall
    
12. Orientation Leader, LSU
    
13. Carpenter, NSU Theatre Department
    
14. Research Assistant - Ornithology, LSU Museum of Natural Science
    
15. Resident Assistant, LSU
    
16. Assistant Director of Orientation, LSU Dean of Student's Office
    
17. Chief Announcer, klsu
    
18. Graduate Assistant, LSU Public Administration Institute
    
19. Tutor, LSU ISDS Department
    
20. Internal Audit Intern, Vulcan Materials
    
21. Instructor, LSU ISDS Department
    
22. Consultant, McCall, Gilchrist & Haynes

I was only terminated for cause once. It was my first job. The 'cause' was being grounded. Cut me a break. I was 13.

Nine years came and went but I'm still here

June 8th marked my nine year anniversary at McCall, Gilchrist & Haynes. WOO HOO!!! 9 YEARS! NINE FREEKEENG YEARS! That's forever, particularly in the fickle-tastic world of consultants.

I'm conflicted. Sad/depressed that I haven't gotten any closer to figuring out what I want to be when I grow up. Psyched about my staying power at a company that has seen layoffs over the years.

I just spent the better part of an hour answering questions from rookies taking the onboarding class I'm teaching. Most of the questions concerned my tenure at the company. Why have you stayed? Why haven't you left? What do you like so much about the company? Have you thought about becoming an independent contractor? Blah blah.

I used to answer these questions all the time when I was the czar of campus recruiting. In short, there's a lot of reasons that I haven't jumped ship over the years. Here are a few. My resume is in a perpetual status of "not ready for prime time" which makes passive job seeking a chore. My in-house professional network is extremely solid which enables me to call my own shots. I'm typically so busy that I don't have time to execute a proper job search. The most significant factor is that I have no idea what I'd like to do when I grow up.

Most folks have this somewhat sorted by the time they are my age. Not me. I've been annoying my family, friends, neighbors, cab drivers, bartenders and flight attendants with the same topic for about eight years now. Now it's your turn.

I'm miserable at work. I'm not exactly sure why. Got any career suggestions for me? What should I be when I grow up?

Is it too late to be an astronaut? I hear that they just fired a couple.

Never showered? Here's a plan.

Project Plan for Showering
Originally uploaded by JaseMan

Certain things are given when one lives in the tropics of the Gulf Coast. There are two seasons: football and hunting. The food is great. People are nicer. And, you'll sweat your ass off.

Let's focus on the last pernt. Sweating to death isn't that big a deal if you have access to plumbing or a wallpaper's bucket (see Hurricane Continuity Plan for more on this). As such, I have become a bit of a shower addict.

I love to shower. I shower twice daily and sometimes more if I start to smell like a curry buffet.

I'm in Dallas this week for training on our internal project management methodologies and tools. One of the exercises was creating a work plan for showering.

My team and I created a moderately detailed plan on the activity. Fret not, you only need to allocate 30 minutes for this - unless you have "collaborators."

A Day of Research Proves Taco Bell Analysis Still Valid

Once upon a time, prior to the crazy gravy train job that I just finished, I was an uber efficient, ass kicking picture of productivity in my own mind. I could get things done without flinching. I'd not yet met a Gantt chart that I couldn't tame. I could multi-task. I could work 18 hours after having only slept on the train back to the CT after a wild night out in Manhattan. Some days I could even eat peanut butter on saltines and whistle. I was that good. I was sought out by peers for tips on being productive. Then came the my unstructured work assignment.

The position was everything I wanted. I could work from anywhere on the planet connected to the InterWeb. Work could be done at any hour of the day as long as deadlines were met. And, I was my own boss. Uh oh.

The warning bells sounded, "Alarm! Alarm! Alarm! Alarm! Alarm!" but they were drowned out by the hippity hop on my iPod. Procrastination loves lack of structure; it quickly took over my life like it once did in high school. I needed to find my way back to the path of efficiency and effectiveness that I once owned like a Schumacher owned Formula Un.

Today my closeted OCD reached an undeniable level. I could procrastinate no longer...right after I set-up an online game of Risk. I spent the better part of today figuring out how to be more productive at work. Super, right? The not so super part is that I didn't really accomplish anything worth while other than reading posts and articles on a lot of blogs and websites about how to quit procrastinating. The irony is stifling.

In the end, I learned what I already knew. In fact, most of it will seem like common sense to many of you, particularly my fellow CubeFarm nerds. I had done many of the Zen Habits and GTD stuff during my period of ass kicking. The key to any system for getting work done is to know what's in the queue, prioritize it and then attack it. Duh. I started doing this well in 2000.

The Y2K crisis was over for many gianormous companies during the closing months of 1999 as they had implemented solutions for the end of humanity by then. At least that was the case for the client to which I was assigned in January 2000. I can't disclose much except that the gig was high dollar and thus high profile. The burn rate was through the roof. Most of the engagement team logged over 300 hours that month; our small team neared the 400 mark. I had a starched shirt, razor and deodorant in my desk drawer.

We were still in the first few days of the engagement but work was slamming our team, the group responsible for finalizing the deliverables and presenting them to the client's CIO. We couldn't afford to keep drinking out of a fire hose or we'd all be toasted shells of ourselves. Our epiphany happened around 2 AM as we polished off dinner on some day ending in "y."

DL, BO and I were cleaning up the carnage of Taco Bell wrappers when ASJ, the man with three first names, told us to stop, have a seat, stay awake and take notes. From now on all of our Action Items (mmmm buzz word) would be color coded and prioritized according to the spectrum of Taco Bell hot sauces. And so it was.

Taco Bell Analysis Levels

• FIRE: Critical path item that must be addressed within 2 business days. Definite integration dependencies.
  
• HOT: Critical path item that must be addressed within 5 business days. May have integration dependencies.
  
• Mild: Must be addressed within 10 business days. No integration dependencies.

We followed those general guidelines. The time windows may seem a little soft. You won't think so if the fire hose is on full blast.

Check out the following links for help with getting your work/life/stuff under control.

• LifeHacker: an award winning blog about hacking technology and daily life tasks to improve your productivity. This is a daily read for me.
  
• Getting Things Done: David Allen's site that is like Stephen Covey for net heads.
  
• Zen Habits: solid productivity site that presents similar content to GTD, but in chunks that are more easily accomplished.
  
• Jott: call an 800 number, speak and send email, i.e. create To-Do's on the fly
  
• Creating a To-Do List via Jott & Gmail: a great tutorial on combining Jott and Gmail filtering & labels to get things done.

"Normal Life" was nearly in reach yesterday

I interviewed with a potential Houston-based client for nearly four hours yesterday. All I have to show for the effort is a validated parking ticket and two not-so-great cups of coffee. Oh, well, if it ain't a fit, I ain't gonna force it. I thought that I had enough communications juice for them. Apparently, my grammar and rhetoric ain't up to snuff. That a load crap.

The most disappointing piece of the whole situation is that I am now back in limbo land instead of being on gig seven miles from my house for the next 18 months. Rat Farts! I even have a dog lined up. She's super chill around folks and affectionate and she's laughs at my jokes. Have I told you the one about the Shi Tzu / Standard Poodle mix that got a vasectomy at the dentist's office?

I haven't given up hope of bringing home Barkley or Kojak or Judy or UpDog or whatever her name is. But, it would be tough to justify given my uncertain travel situation and unpainted living room. Iff'n your interested in adopting her or know the owner, please drop me a line.

Back in the cube farm

Back in the cube farm
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.

For those of you who didn't receive the TPS report, I am back in the world of the billable and no longer riding the gravy train. The short answer to your question is "because it made sense, and I was sick of not having any leverage to get things done." I am reticent yet excited to be back on the delivery side of the house.

The tricky part of this situation is the immense level of autonomy inherent in my last position has resulted in me being spoiled shitless. The lynch pin of this is my ability to work from wherever whenever and to set my own travel schedule or to refuse to travel all together. Fortunately, I am pended for an in-town gig about eight miles from the ranch. I am working from the downtown office until that pans out.

Today's my second day back in the "real world" of cube farms and people that dress like a night club for an office space. I've worked from here a few times during my gravy train. I actually prefer working from here because of the infrastructure and my gregarious nature. But that was when I actually had some choice in the matter.

This choice was usually the result of an internal dialog in the shower.

How you feeling?
Pretty good, you?
Pretty good. Think I should go the office?
Not really feeling the office today. You should go to The Daily Grind instead.

Now, I have no choice. I must come into the office. The realization of the differences in these similar situations has been an exercise in a statement of obvious facts. But, it is still jaw jarring none the less.

Top 5 Things I Realized During My Drive Into the Office
5. Teaming is not effective when one works from home despite what any Internet2.0 junky says. CRAP. Looks like I'll be back in the pool of regular commuters.
4. Traffic sucks. I need to leave the house by 7:15 AM in order for traffic not to suck.
3. I have to work during normal business hours (8 AM to 6 PM) since the team I managing will be working during those hours.
2. Freeloading at the parking meters is no longer an option because I'll be "working" past 4 PM. The parking cops don't check during the day very often, but they're diligent as hell about ticketing after 4 PM and those bad boys cost $65 a pop.
1. I need to produce results daily.

Holy shit what have I done?

Anyone need a stay at home freeloader? I am reasonably decent at brogging and very skilled at cooking breakfast. Sometimes I'm funny, but only if I have been properly rested, watered and entertained. I prefer real food to Hot Pockets, flip flops to dress shoes, sushi over everything else and brunettes over blondes. Let me know if you need to see my CV or need references.

Help Wanted: Career Needed

Somebody gimme some resume paper (paper plate - it's a long story; ask DRB or Rex) quick cuz I need to write out my resume. I have been working at the same company for the past nine years. I have learned a ton and wracked up a shit ton of frequent flyer points because of all the travel required. I loved my job in the beginning, liked it during the middle years and have been speeding toward not liking it recently.

My primary anxiety concerns the travel. Traveling to Rimini is fun. Traveling every week to Stamford, CT is not. Driving through Croatia is a blast except when you get lost, and even then it's not so bad. I hoped to get lost driving to Bartlesville, OK. Hey, at least I'm gonna score a nice 40" plasma with those AmEx points, right?

The folks at work assure me that they will do everything in their power to keep me local. Nothing is guaranteed in consulting. Nothing. Nada. Niente. I've watched project rookies roll off on their first day. Friends have been at the airport on the jetway when they received a call telling them that they were no longer required on the project. So, I'm not holding my breath for an in-town gig.

My ideal career would be one that features some intrinsic rewards, a decent salary, flexible working arrangements and the ability to wear jeans most of the time. Decent salary means that I can pay for FPR, afford to lose at a poker game and ride in Mardi Gras. On the flex front, I'm talking about being able to choose to work from home or the office depending on commitments. The intrinsic part of the equation seems to be the toughest to nail down.

You can have sexy, JT. I need to bring the passion back. No, not sex, LP (you always think I'm being dirty). I'm tawkin bout loving my job. Being motivated to get to the office early to get things done. That passion exists now, but only when I'm about to finish up the project.

I can do anything. Seriously. I've even changed a diaper. I'm not opposed to a total switch in career fields or a big salary cut provided that the opportunity is a solid.

Leave a comment with your suggestions on where to look or what I should be when I grow-up. Drop me an email if you want to see my resume.

Off We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder

To quote Roger Murtaugh, Danny Glover's character in Lethal Weapon, "I'm getting too old for this shit."

I'm lounging in Austin-Bergstrom's President's Club after having arrived, without any toiletries and assorted gels, two hours in advance of my flight to Reagan National via Houston. I should be
working right now, but my few minutes of exposure had rendered me ready to rant and in need of a cocktail.

My nerves are already smoldering from the tourons running around in the airport. Teenagers abound wearing their fucking cargo pants with 16 pockets in which a myriad of miscellaneous shit is stashed. Only eight of the pockets have been emptied prior to their first attempt at the metal detector. Pockets are emptied one at a time resulting in an awkward, three-way two step between the shoeless knucklehead, the metal detector and the TSA agent until all mysterious items have been located. Just behind the kids were three Asian ladies who packed the equivalent of a Wal-Mart inventory in their carry-on bags. At least they have a valid excuse in that they don't speak any English except for the sundry pleasantries. My obnoxious compatriots in the P.C. have no such crutch.

Airline club patrons, in the U.S. anyway, typically consist of two breeds of traveler: corporate travelers and vacation travelers who gain entry via an overseas ticket or voucher. The vacation travelers are usually low profile, unless kids are on the trip, probably due to a fear of pissing of some Scotch swilling jerk with a blue tooth headset crammed in his ear. Corporate travellers are loud, gregarious and annoying. They know their way around the airport, hotels and car rental joints. But that does not give them carte blanche to yell into their phones via speakerphone, crank up their CD/DVD/IM audio on their laptop or boss around the airport staff like cabana boys.

I am embarrassed to be a corporate traveler on days like today.

I fit the mold of the corporate traveler in that I know may way around most airports of import and maintain the upper level of frequent traveler status at a couple of airlines and hotel chains. I hope that's where the similarities stop. All I ask is that you, my fellow traveler, no matter the sort, think about what you need to do at the security checkpoint before you get to the metal detector, if not before you leave the house, and that you exercise courtesy in your airport operations. Use headphones and don't yell into your cell phone or use the speakerphone. And, take the damned blue tooth headset out of your ear when you aren't using it if you don't want to
look stupid.

My friend, Garland, would say, "So young. So angry."

So what!

I may need an anger management class.

This Just In

There are more hookers than poker chips in my hotel. I know I'm sexy,
but someone, anyone, please make them go away.

Word of the Day - NAFI

N.A.F.I. - (NAH-fee) adj. 1. Afrikaans slang. No Ambition, F@$k-all Interest; 2. a desire to be doing anything but what you are presently doing; "JB is NAFI because the surf is up, the sun is shining and he's at work"; 3. uninterested because of over exposure; 4. slightly miserable

This Is a Test of the Stealthy Bitching While Still at Work System

Had this been an actual emergency I would have already jumped through the computer screen and into the InnerWeb so that I could head straight to the Italian Riviera to sip a cocktail and count grains of sand.

Since I'm not quite that evolved yet, I am still at the office and blaring Ice Cube in hopes that someone will order me to leave.

"I push rhymes like weight."

Westward Ho: From TX to the OC

"They call Los Angeles the City of Angels. I didn't find it to be that exactly, but I'll allow as there are some nice folks there."
- The Stranger, The Big Lebowski

I am relocating to Orange County, California. This doesn't mean that I don't like Texas. It means I'm going where the work is. Think of me as a modern day Native American following the trail of Tetanka across the United States.

In preparation to for my migration, I watched precisely ten minutes of one episode of The OC. I liked what I saw: two super hot ladies that were not afraid to display their affection. Any local that inspired television producers to create a series about it must be rife with fodder for a displaced Texan seeking to get his own sitcom.

I will be living on a college campus. A truly inspired and under appreciated genius developed a Marriott on the campus of California State in Fullerton. I can't help feeling like Mitch Martin from Old School. But I won't be starting a fraternity from my Huntington Beach room at the Marriott, unless I run into Blue.

There is so much to do: West Coast Customs will be just down the street. Venice Beach is close too. I can pimp myself out in Dogtown with skate gear to prove that I've been there. I'll take extreme posing to a new level.

The Los Angeles area is a Mecca for professional sports: the Clippers, Lakers, Kings, Dodgers, and the Angels of Anaheim. The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim? Are you kidding me? What sports marketing guru thought that was a good idea? They're the California Angels if you ask me.

This Texan will uncover the truth about California. Are there really vegetarians on every corner? Does the hip coffee shop clerk have the greatest hydroponics herb? Do all Californians like to surf? Do they really have the worst traffic in the solar system? But more importantly, do avocados grow on trees?

--
This was originally posted on TheBackWord.com, a Texas-centric eZine that has gone the way of the jackalope.

Some Fridays Are Actually Mondays...

Some Fridays Are Actually Mondays That Have Gotten Out Of Sorts And Wound Up In The Wrong Weekly Order

It's Labor Day Friday, which I would normally consider renaming "Good Friday" since it is the kick-off to a three-day weekend. Actually, any Friday should be able to be labeled Good Friday since it is the gateway to the weekend. However, as I will demonstrate in this short tome, some Fridays are not good; in fact, they are evil and should be relegated to Monday status.

Things started well enough today. I got upgraded to First Class¹. I had lunch with one of the "Top Three Hottest Clients" on my project. She was so impressed with my excellent table manners and lunch conversations that she brought me to the STD² train station, too. Then she went home to her fiancee³.

Back to the point, after a thoroughly non-titillating train trip to Newark airport, I am on a plane bound for Nashville, Tennessee in an effort to join members of my ultimate team, Black Angus, for a tournament in Chattanooga. Don't ask why we are flying into NashVega$ instead of Atlanta to get to Nooga, which if you don't know is like flying to Jacksonville for a fishing weekend in Juneau, Alaska. Let it suffice to say that I will not be trusting my itinerary planning to a engineer any more.

I am currently the victim of an "on-time departure", i.e. the plane left the terminal on-time but has not yet left the tarmac. My 3:10 PM flight taxied out to what I can only assume was the correct spot for taking off. Unfortunately, a rapid ascent into the heavens did not ensue. Air Traffic Control placed a ground hold on all south bound aircraft due to bad weather. I didn't realize that planes could actually melt if rained upon.

Lucky for us, the ground hold only last 90 minutes. Woo Hoo! We were on the verge of taking off when a dog had to pee. Actually, it didn't really have to pee, or it may have, but the federal government said that the dog must be allowed to pee. There is apparently an FAA regulation stating that animals must have a pee break if it has boarded a plane that has not taken off in sixty minutes.

Are you effing kidding me? Let me get this straight. A dog can pee all over itself in its pet carrier during a four hour flight from Houston to LA. But if the plane sits on the runway for too long, we have to turn the plane around, delay the free drinks, and walk the dog. Apparently agents from PETA have secretly taken over the FAA, which explains why the filling in the turkey sandwiches doesn't really look like turkey.

With a Friday afternoon like this in the bag, someone's probably going to try and tell me that there aren't actually casinos and showgirls in NashVega$.

Foot Notes:
¹By the way, Coach, or the No Class section, is for you losers that actually have lives which involve actually living and working within an area described by a circle with a radius of sixty miles.

²STD is the Metro North Railway abbreviation for the Stamford train station and not a slang name for the joint. Although after having seen the bathroom, I am convinced that one could a catch a mean case of something from the toilet seat should one so desire.

³There was no funny business going on. She's engaged. And, I don't do that type of stuff with OPP. And, I had already checked out of the Westin.