Well, I've held off as long as I could. I've just gotta toss some things down, and I'm quite suprised nobody else but Miller has had the same inkling in nearly two weeks. We've had two weddings- don't you have some neat story to tell? Two more weddings, and a funeral, and we could make a movie. It'd make millions. I think I'd cast Nicholas Cage in the lead role. So I'm moved into my new apartment, and the girl at Quizno's talked to me, and I started a job working carpentry again, so life's sorta different than the last time I wrote. And for all those on the SYG tour that are enjoying this entry, I myself went folfing last night with John O'dell (I think only Bob knows who that is). So now you wonder if life's better now that I have a job and a place to call my own. The answer is, it's not worse, but it sure is different. Below me live three or four (I can't keep track very well, they're always coming and going) college sophmores, girls that is. They seem terribly uninterested in saying hi or anything like that except one of them who I met several weeks ago and happens to be my boss's niece. I work with four different people - Jim and Jeff, Dana and Misha, and they're all guys. Misha is sixteen and probably should be making the same amount of money I make because he's so much better at everything we do. But I bet I could sure school him in a geography bee.
Here's a question for all the lovely young ladies that happen to be reading this: If you lived in an apartment and there was a single guy that lived above you, not many years older than yourself, would it be creepy if he left you a small (terribly small) potted flower and a short note introducing himself? Not that I did that. (So far the count is 1 for creepy, and one for sweet -Molly thought it was creepy, Anne thought it was sweet)
I don't so much write on here because I want all of you to know the ins and outs of my rather bland and disconnected life, but I'd rather much like to read more stuff from people. I've gotta get some shut-eye. I start ten-hour days tomorrow. I've already had a piece of plywood dropped on my leg. It bruised rather nicely. The shape somehow reminded me of you. No, really. It looked kinda like your face/eyes/shadowy figure from far away while squinting.
Duerkop- How much is a 1 gig processor? Is it something that I could install myself (remind yourself who you're talking to).
Jolene- My jaunt into the land of Jedi guardians has been postponed until I get a faster processor. Sorry I can't assist the fight for peace and justice in the galaxy far far away.
Folkstead- Hey, I got a cell phone. My number is 406-370-3871. Call me. I don't have your number. If you're not Chris, forget I wrote this down. I don't want to get anonymous phone solicitations for unknown missions organizations.
Everybody- What's it take to get you talking, anyway? Hope all is going well.
Steve