Three really short stories, but they're all funny.

I really wish someone would run a weekend marathon of old That's Incredible episodes from the 1970s. I bet that show is so over-the-top bad, that the producers are embarrassed to have been associated with it. But when I was in elementary school, everyone watched it every single week. (I wonder what it's competition was. Sure, there were just three channels, but still....)

Like most people, I detest Monday mornings. But it isn't that I dread getting in the car and handling a commute; my commute is only seven minutes. And it isn't getting to my desk and dealing with whatever comes my way. In fact, there has been a crisis each of the past few Mondays. Perhaps I'm jaded, but the client crisis doesn't get me too worked up any more. Sure, I'll try to address the problem right away, but it's not something I sweat. Or dread.

On the Wednesday the week of my Las Vegas trip, I checked out of the MGM (work trip) and into Caesar's (my trip). I had just gotten up to my room in the newest tower at Caesar's when my cell phone rang. It was Sharples. "Hey, what are you doing?"

I give some animals some medicine every month. Y'all will be surprised.

Let's face it. Unless you travel somewhere -- and somewhere doesn't include Baton Rouge -- summer is D - U - L - L, dull. College baseball is over (at least for me it's over), and the NBA will be done pretty soon. Let's not pretend that Major League Baseball is interesting. (At least not the games. The steroid controversies are a little interesting.) I have yet to cut the sleeves off of a collared shirt, and therefore don't have that part of my brain that would also allow me to follow NASCAR.

Yesterday after basketball at lunch, I went to the Subway on Government street. I was in front of him in line, having trouble figuring out what to order. "I dunno... what are you going to have?"

If you know me -- either in real life or just through reading here -- you have probably inferred that I'm not a very political person. You would be right. It's not that I'm uninterested; I find aspects of politics fascinating. The thing is that I don't care. It's just entertainment to me.

Some long winded work story, but then it takes a turn for the wet and gross.

I think I alluded to the fact that I would be in Las Vegas all of last week, so naturally, I have a story or two to share. The week was scheduled where Sunday evening through mid-day Wednesday, I was there as a representative of a vendor hosting a conference. There was some time for fun, but not a whole lot. From mid-day Wednesday through the next weekend, I was there just for my own recreation.

The loud, blaring noise goes on and on and on and on. It fails to respect that you're trying to think. Or talk on the phone. Or reading your favorite blog on company time. It's incessant. It's painful. My singing in the office? Well, yes, that fits, but I really meant the fire alarms.

The best office/work related party that I've ever been to -- and one of the 10-15 best parties of any kind that I've been to -- was an APPRO Users' Conference party at the House of Blues in New Orleans. This was probably somewhere around 6-8 years ago, but I think anyone who was there will confirm that it was a mighty powerful throwdown.