Walking the Tightrope, Steppin' on My Friends

Here's a picture of me when I was four, after my brother and sister slammed my fingers in the bathroom door at my dad's studio. This has absolutely nothing to do with my post. Man, I need to go out and take some new pics.

I'm getting to this very late. So, it will probably be very short and very lame. Things are much better today. I did my damnedest to remain cranky at work, but it was not to be. My co-worker, John is like one of those cats that knows when you don't like it and won't leave you alone. He kept coming over and bugging me. At first, he just stood by my desk jingling the change in his pocket until I hauled off and punched him. Then he kept annoying me with questions. The first one was okay, because it was something I was interested in.

"Hey, Churly. What's that one Clint Eastwood movie where he's a DJ and he has that scary stalker chick after him?"

"It's called Play Misty for Me, and it's awesome. Don't even get me started on how great that movie is."

Then he started asking me work related questions, and I was suddenly annoyed again. He gets really paranoid that he's going to get in trouble, so anytime all our bosses meet in another location, he's sure they're all talking about him.

"They've been gone a long time. Do you know what they're talking about?" John asked me for the tenth time in about as many minutes.

"Your butt."

"Oh, then they should be in there for a couple more hours."

Laughing at my own joke started cheering me up a little. Then on my break, I went outside because the weather was so perfect and those guys were on the Pentacrest. You know those one guys who tie their little tightrope thingies to the trees? They have it at the perfect height so that if they slip off, they totally rack themselves. Nothing shakes my crankiness faster than watching a bunch of guys rack themselves. Hey, they were all cracking-up too, so I didn't even have to feel guilty about how happy it was making me.