Monitor Madness

Well after a lot of struggle, we finally got in the 20in flat panel monitor for a client of ours. Wouldn’t you know it, Jason just had to attach it to his PC to “test” it. So it’s been plugged into his PC for about 16 hours now, I’d say that’s long enough. Here is a sniplet of a IM conversation between Jason and I from just a couple minutes ago

Jason: i can’t pull any webpages now
Miles: the monitor is rejecting you
Miles: you are not its rightful owner
Jason: lol
Miles: step away from the monitor
Jason: you so funny
Miles: I know I heard you laugh

What a fun office life eh?

I’ll be the Proudest Fellow in the Pizzaaaaaa Parade!

I currently have an appetite for liquids, blandness, and perhaps chocolate. (It’s always a good time for chocolate.) I’ve had a Dayquil and water diet today. For some reason, I’m feeling a little loopy…so the following turn of events may be a touch exaggerated&#8212it’s highly unlikely, but I thought forewarning the polite thing to do.

Anyway, upon announcing to Miles and Jason that I would not be joining them for lunch, their eyes sparkled. I mean, seriously SPARKLED. Jason was looking up the number to the local Dominoes Pizza location before the final strains of Miles’ ditty (concerning the freedom derived from an ill health nut) had died. Jason, phone number located, rejoined the songster, and together they ballroom-danced about the office. They dipped each other to the beat&#8212my big dipper and the little dipper. It was star-studded….it was nearly a media event.

The pizza arrived with much fanfare. Jason flaunted it with one hand stretched high above his head. He paraded through the rooms like that, twittering excitedly. Miles, sick but caught in the moment, trailed behind, drool wetting his shirt. He followed Jason closely, oft tripping on his feet to avoid throwing the pizza presenter off balance. A heathen chant materialized as they performed the pizza-consumption ceremony.

The actual event was uncouth at best…pointing and snickering at one another as they dropped pizza toppings down their shirts. “I can stain my clothing the MOST!” Miles’ eyes dared. Laura’s eyes agreed. The bottle of laundry detergent at home agreed. Jason cleared his throat, squared his shoulders, and proved us all wrong. It was a sight to behold.

I can do it all, folks.

Miles says:
well not everything HAS to be your element

Laura says:
oh yes, yes it does.

Miles says:
lol no

Laura says:
I’ve mastered everything thus far.

Miles says:

Miles says:

Miles says:
goat milking?

Miles says:
driving blindfolded?

Miles says:
cooking in your sleep?

Miles says:
talking backwards on the phone?

Miles says:
driving a tractor?

Miles says:
wow you are good

Laura says:

Don’t Worry. We’ll Settle Down in our 30’s.

Quite obviously, Miles and I have reached the pinnacle of our spontaneous, wild, crazy, and otherwise youthful relationship. It’s all downhill from here; last night was proof enough.

We left work early&#8212early being before 11:00pm&#8212to catch a show playing at the Cinema Grill. The Bourne Supremacy was playing at 6:30, so we scurried to catch the show. We were home from the theater by 8:30.

Yawning, stretching, sluggish footfalls…the place was full of ’em. Miles plopped (and I do mean PLOPPED) tellingly on the loveseat, heavy eyelid-ed and dull. I, being the highly intuitive sort, discerned that his thoughts centered upon a sleepy agenda involving a bed, pillows, and perhaps a comforter for good measure.

Unwilling to allow such a staid turn-of-events on a Friday night, I suggested a movie. You know, because watching a movie at home seems more like a wild-and-crazy time than just falling asleep at 8:30.

Miles agreed, on the condition that we lay on the couch together to watch the thing.

“Sounds fair enough,” I thought. Besides, I was chilled from the theater’s temperature, and Miles packs some heat. (er…of the non bulleted sort.)

I’m lucky if I saw ten minutes of the movie. Miles is lucky if he saw 5.

He roused me at some point. We traipsed to bed. I remember none of this.

We slumbered until ten this morning…awaking to a sleepy gray day…no use getting up at ten! Phooey, I say! We each showered and returned to bed until noon. Oh blessed bed, how I do enjoy your comforts!

A person cares marginally less about the boredom factor of their life while under the influence of fatigue. However, sleeping through a movie as opposed to going to bed at 8:30 lends to that intrigue of two youngsters fighting the inevitable. We’re still on top of that young-thing. Oh, yeah. Watch us go. Woo.

I love CHEESE! From my head down to my knees!

I’m up to my eyeballs in website design! No. time. for. anything. else.

Milly (and Randy), my mother-in-law (and her significant other), stopped by our office today. I delighted in pointing out my office…like she couldn’t tell anyway. It’s the only clean one of the lot. At first she pouted (cutely) and said, “Did they give you the SMALLEST office!?” I nodded and added, “And the only one with a window too!” She delighted in the windowy goodness of my office.

Next, she walked back to Miles’ office and admonished him for his disorderliness while pacing the hallway between his room and mine. I stifled a giggle when Miles whimpered desperately, “But she’s got less stuff in her office!”

Jason had Cheetos here today…or “cheesy corn snacks”, as it were. He has the back office&#8212I have the front office, Miles is the middleman. Miles and I found ourselves wandering into the hallway in summit:

Did you hear that crinkling sound?

We traversed blindly toward the back office. Listening just before the opened doorway, we determined that the hypnotically yummy sound was indeed louder at that end of the hall. Miles peeked in the door while I cowardly slouched towards the bathroom (also at the end of the hall) so as not to openly display my wanton lust for crinkly-bagged junk food to the non-husband unit.

I listened from the bathroom as Miles inquired hopefully, “What’s that you’ve got there?” (pause) “OH! Cheetos!”

I leap from the bathroom and exclaim as I set my eyes on the bag, “CHEESY CORN SNACKS!” The room spins, my breath quickens, and a note of sadness pierces the air. Was he going to share? Or, was he going to eat the ‘cheesy corn snacks’ in front of us, sneering at us at each crunch?

After we helped him up from the ground following our tackle, he stuttered meekly, “Help yourselves.”

Good old Jason.