mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

  • Mood:
  • Music:

(The other half of the battle is lasers. G.I. Joe!)

Blitz continues. Blitzkrieg. What is a krieg? A war, a war on xmas—that is what this is. Xmas is one big battlefield & these are the trenches. Punishing—gloaming of the evening always lingering on you. Wednesday was another work party—this one was thrown by our floor—& yes, that means I started drinking holiday cheer around four. Ho ho ho! It was in swing & I was enjoying myself, when the clock struck five thirty & everyone turned into pumpkins. I snuck away—probably always best to leave the party at a high note, right. Then I met Gerd! For coffee. Nothing says sober up like a black eye! Gerd was in town, but I hadn’t seen him, on account of I didn’t pay attention when he changed his number, so I’ve been pouring text messages into a void. We talked—he’s a doctor, right, but still hasn’t had to teach anyone! He just makes out with the actors from Battlestar Galactica all day & gives rats the bubonic plague all night. Or vice versa. Then home, but not to rest & relaxation! There was a clarion call—trumpets from the line—charge! Food & wine alone took some grade-A quartermastering. The sandwich with the little mozzarella balls! The wine with the blue Swiss Guard! Then I found a David & took him home with me. David & Maggie for television, as is the tradition. Lilly was testing. Others were not part of this years core guard. How I Met Your Mother is continuing to be a hell of a show. Pushing Daisies continues to be…cancelled? Somehow? Even though it is clearly head & shoulders above any possible competitor. & After that, & a bottle of wine each, Firefly, which was also somehow cancelled. Man, what the heck. Then some monkeyshines with Jenny, sleep, comics (Jeph Loeb is somehow still considered a writer—did you read that Buffy? That wasn’t even a story, it was like a Hostess Cupcakes ad) & now work. I am miserable, but hopefully will meet up with Pamela for Googlefood.

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.