Ubba.
It's been the sales rep day from hell here. I've met with no less than six and just turned down number seven. And not even one of them could be a hot chick to at least make it all a bit more pleasurable.
Salesreps: Blah, blah buy my stuff it's the greatest thing ever invented or my kids will starve blah, blah, blah.
GP:Yes, yes I hope we can do business soon thanks for stopping by. blech blech. retch.
But thankfully that's all about to be just another blurry, forgotten snippet of my life and I will be on to the next bit of blurriness and outta here.
The Sig Ot is out with fellow chicks tonight, so it's just me and the dog. That means a hike and sharing food that's bad for the both of us, then hunkering down on the couch to watch whatever sports we can dig up, while consuming some adult beverages. Okay so the dog will skip the adult beverages, but she will join me in spirit anyway.
And that's about as much excitement as I think my weary, dragging backside can stand tonight.
My brother and his fiancee' have decided to accept my invitation and come down for next weekend. This was one of those tossed out "oh you guys should come down and see a Braves game" invites you never expect to actually happen. But it will be fun.
However, I've done nothing to the house or yards since before New Orleans, so this weekend will be spent slaving away at both. I had to hustle and call in favors but scored some free Braves tickets 13 rows behind home plate. I think the game is national on Fox next Saturday so look for me. I'll be the really drunk, shirtless guy being escorted out of the stadium for calling the umpire something less than a child of god. Repeatedly. But they sell those really huge 24oz beers there. And somehow my brain thinks, okay that's one beer, when it is most certainly not. At some point I'll say, "how'd I get a buzz? I've only had three beers!" It's the bucket-o-beer syndrome at work yet again. Sunday morning we'll play golf which will be blamed on me, he'll say "what can I do, he already scheduled it? I didn't know (even though I just happened to have my clubs in the trunk coincidentally) he was going to do that!"
I don't think the poor girl knows what to think of me yet. When she's met me before it's been at family gatherings up in Va and when I get with my brother and dad, it's a lot of boisterous bull-shiote flying around. She likely thinks I'm a smart-alec, big mouthed moron. And while that may be correct, it should at least take her a while to reach that conclusion. ya know?
Anyhowser, I've now sufficiently killed a few minutes with my pointless blather and it is indeed light at the end of the tunnel time. Time to leave my prison of gainful employment. Now it's drudgery on my own time and isn't that what we all work for?
But the weather is so delightfully cool and teasing at fall in the air that daggone it, working hard in yard or not, I will enjoy it.
Merry freakin' weekend to all.