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Home again, home again

So I ditched out of that training an hour and a half early. There just wasn't a thing I couldn't have picked up on my own with some hands-on time and a help file or two. I was the only male in the training: a room full of boxy beige Wintel boxes and a few too many "church secretary" stereotypes. Clearly, I'm not the target audience (nor should I be-- just don't make me go!!!!).

Bus ride home was just too warm and sweaty. I'd filled my daily people quota already, and I'm a big weenie about heat. Bought a new lunchbox while transferring busses downtown. More accurately, it's an insulated lunch sack. But it looks cool, and I don't think the urge to have the coolest lunchbox ever really goes away.

I have no room in my life for P. Diddy. Isn't it like 14:58 on the Warhol stopwatch o' fame for this guy?