Been too swamped to post (unlike Wil Wheaton, who’s just letting the man get him down). I officially received control of another division today, which gives me about 300 more people whose out-of-state travel requests I will be denying. Had a farewell party for my counterpart, Susan, who is retiring, although we expect she’ll be keeping her hand in on some particular projects. I have always respected her advice and cherished her friendship, and am not sure where I’ll turn now that she’s gone, though my immediate boss is also a great sounding board. All that love and respect we were showing didn’t keep her farewell party from devolving into an arm-wrestling contest for her office, which has the best views in the entire building. It was a little unseemly, actually, but it’s all part of my new attitude: cranky and unhelpful. I’ve been the nice guy for long enough. Time to channel my inner Wilfrid Brimley. Believe me, he’s in there.
It’s very cold (again) (still), and is supposed to dip below zero again tonight. Agency ski day at our ski area is tomorrow, but I was saddled with an afternoon meeting that I really should use as an opportunity to learn about some things I’ve been ignoring for years, so the plan now is to run over to Jiminy first thing in the morning, ski my ass off for 3.5 hours, and run back to Albany in time for the meeting.
Speaking of asses, got two weird hits today. First was from someone searching for the phrase “my ass”, and this blog scores higher than you would expect, since I’ve only used the phrase once. Thrice, now. Second was for “erotic whipped cream photographs,” which must have left someone disappointed when they found out I was talking about making whipped cream and reviewing a movie that had “erotic overtones” or some such thing. Had some more hits for “duckhunting” this week, too, and the endless march of people seeking information about our favorite drink additive continues.

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