If I were living out the game The Sims right now, the diamond above my head would be green (meaning I'm happy) but my social bar would be very low.
That's exactly how I'm dressed in real life, too
Yes, getting that picture required me to find my copy of Sims 3, remember how to play, disallow my character to talk to anyone, not even his wife, for like 3 Sim-days, take a screenshot, and circle the Social bar in MSPaint. And I feel that that only illustrates my point. My Sim-wife is in the background playing video games on the computer, she didn't even care I was ignoring her. All this sulking makes me feel like Marvin the Paranoid Android. On the bright side, I realized how much fun that game is and played for a while. Much like my unloving virtual wife.
This Ides of March, however, seems to have smiled on me. I went for Chinese food for lunch today and my fortune was pretty encouraging, given my current state.
... in bed
I guess that means I can just lay back, relax, and watch the people get sucked into my orbit. But it better happen soon, there's only 2 weeks left this month! I'll keep you guys updated.
Last week I went on a site visit in Tulsa, OK for work. We are replacing all the lights in an old municipal building so we had to head over there and take light levels in each and every room. That meant going into all the locked or rarely seen rooms. I got to go into the police chief's office, a closet I'm sure no one has been in for many, many years (lots of super old computer manuals. And mold.) and of course... the jail! At first I didn't the cops were going to let us in there, but I was happy when I saw them unlocking the door.
Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures. I really, really wanted to, but I wasn't sure of how legal that was, considering they had 2 prisoners in there. The place smelled like sweat and poop. There was also tons of names carved into the cell walls, as if the prisoners throughout the years were proud to have been there... "CrotchThumper wuz here." The prisoners themselves were pretty boring, they were just laying in bed at like 1 pm. They watched us when we walked in, but I guess us talking about light fixtures was boring because they rolled over with their backs to us. The solitary confinement room was really gross. It was very dim, and it smelled worse than the rest of the jail. I looked up at the light and noticed what appeared to be blood splattered on it. Quite a work trip, indeed.
This story is kind of embarrassing, or kind of awesome, depending on how you look at it. I wasn't even going to put this on ol' Bloggy in the first place, but after figuring I'd gone to school for 22 years, something is compelling me to write this...
The date: 1991. The place: Mrs. Golliday's Kindergarten class. It was a normal day in class. I was sitting in Green Frog, the seating section I had been assigned, along with 5 of my classmates. We were filling out a connect-the-dots, a task I rather enjoyed and at which I considered myself quite good. That day, I wore a standard t-shirt and some gray sweat pants. I was a true fashion bug.
By that point in my life, I had started getting boners. I can't remember when it started, but I believe I was somewhat an early bloomer. In fact, I just did a quick Google search that I will probably regret when I wind up in jail for child porn accusations. But that's not the point. The point is, I got them, and I had one that day in kindergarten class. Let me tell you, those gray sweatpants did nothing to hide it. Heck, I didn't even know I was SUPPOSED to hide it; I knew you weren't supposed to go waving it around, but I can't help it if it's there.
The girl sitting next to me (I remember who, but I'll never tell... unless you ask nicely) saw my situation and asked what it was. I asked what she was talking about and she said, "That!" and pointed at it. I wasn't sure how to react to such a situation, so I was just like, "Uhh.." She said, "Is that a crayon eraser? Why did you put that in your pants?" and laughed, thinking I'd put an eraser in my pants as a joke. She was so naive.
I was packin'
She then started grabbing my junk and trying to pick up the "Crayon eraser" through my pants. I just kind of let it happen, no one had ever touched me there before and I was waaaay too young to enjoy it. I don't remember anything that happened after that moment. It was just a really, really weird experience and it was strange enough to stick with me all these years. I've barely told anyone that story, but now I've told everyone. You're welcome, Internet.
Take me away, feds.