Hello, all ye faithful readers.

I am (guess where?) at my favorite drinking-and-blogging establishment. This, team, seriously rocks. I’m on my second peach-vodka-and-cran, I just downed a basket of fries, and the sun is shining, life is extremely, extremely good right now.

I’ve got a party for a coworker that’s happening soon (like now) and I promised I’d show up, but money is tight and the vodka’s going down well, and with drinks and food there I could spend roughly half of my monthly paycheck in one evening. Hmmm.

I’ll probably show up for fifteen to twenty (you know, give them a taste of the 2N) then bounce. I’ll probably come back here and continue the getting drunked until Rebecca calls me and then I shall have a partner in my drunkedness. The Family is out in Auburn tonight at yet another coworker’s birthday party, and I just wasn’t feeling it. I was supposed to be in Victoria this weekend. I was supposed to be out having a fabulous time in the motherland. That was until I broke my arm and couldn’t afford to take more vacation time.

Which brings me to the next piece of fabulous news!

My arm is NOT broken! Woot!

It appears that the first night in the emergency room, the exrays they took were not clear enough to clearly identify a break. So they assumed there was one, splinted me up, and sent me on my way.

I then had an appointment with an orthopedist on Friday, prior to which I got MORE exrays taken (and can I just say, I think they dream up the MOST uncomfortable and awkward poses by which to torture someone with a gimpy arm that doesn’t like to bend.

*****

Holy shit!

The wierdest thing just happened as I was sitting here writing this blog!

My uncle, who I haven’t seen for over three years, just walked in to this bar. Apparently he drives a taxi and was here to do a pickup and I happened to be here at the same time.

I’m wierded out.

There’s a story here. Perhaps blog worthy, but not just yet. Suffice to say that the last time I spoke with my uncle and his wife, it wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t pleasant.

Apparently he (sans the wife) works and lives here in Tacoma now. He’s a taxi driver. With a degree in computer programming and a resume that includes working at Boeing for several years.

He’s a smart man. Well. In some cases.

He drives a taxi.

Holy crap.

I need to go have a smoke. I’ll continue the rest in a bit.