Edged in Blue

Yesterday marks the 42nd anniversary of my escape from the womb.  Does this mean I was Stewie Griffin?  Oh, hardly.  I literally came out ass first, so I’m more like Bart Simpson (except I can’t ride a skateboard.)

So how am I celebrating ticking off one more year before I start getting junk mail from the AARP?  For starters, I spent the morning running around dealing with various state agencies, ending up with the Attorney General’s Office for some mortgage paperwork.  Those of you not following Hillary’s slow fade might have heard this was probably the worst possible week to go there.  Ironically, the AG’s employees sound rather happy.  (”Hey, gang!  Governor Strickland has just suspended mandatory thong Fridays!”  “Great!  I was sick of losing my lunch over Hal in his Speedo.”)  I hear Attorney General Dann got a call from Elliot Spitzer, saying, “Dude, really.  Just walk away.  It ain’t worth it.”  (And then Spitzer’s supervisor at Wal-Mart fired him for making personal calls on company time.)

The upside is I only worked half a day yesterday, after which…

I spent a lovely evening at an English place in Norwood called The Pub with my new family.  For one day, I was excused from getting my ass handed to me on the Wii in Brawl and allowed to drink as much as I wanted (which is not nearly as much as I used to.  Bouchercon is gonna kill me.)

As some of you know, I’ve been having a very strange year, but a very good one personally.  Now if I can just get things going professionally again, life will be really sweet.