It's not rain. It's the spittle of the lesser gods. Cthulhu Fthagn!

I think this is actually one of the few episodes of M*A*S*H* that I've never seen before. Hawkeye was in love before. Who knew? You stay up long enough, you get to see some quality Re-Runs.

Monday night, I sped my way down the 605 to I-5 to the 805 down to San Diego to surprise my friend Erika for her birthday. She thought that I wasn't going to show, and nearly tackled me when I walked into the bar.

Her friend owns the place, and was keeping her in High Spirits--in the most literal sense, and was making sure that the rest of us were getting liquored up. I, myself, was taking it easy, as I was facing a long trip back up, and the next day at work.

Hung out with Erika, J (mtyvlcro), Diana and Vince, Nancy, Erika's roomates and Maggs--

Literary debate, television junk culture quips, more literary debate, a short skirt and thigh high boots, and a naughty sense of humour. SMITTEN! SMITTEN! Though I'm told there is a line. Always with the line.

( A side rant on lines )

Had a good time hanging out with folks, and then, before too late, zipped my way back up to the home place. Left at 10:30, and made it home by midnight. But didn't go to sleep until late, because I'm stupid.

I'm really liking the job. Liking it more and more. I just want to be useful, which I wonder about sometimes. I was re-assured that it will be a while before I feel useful, so that's something. Somfin' good.

I should go and read now. Or sleep. Sleep would be smart. Oh, how I wish I were smart.

Why am I in such a good mood? I dunno, but I like it.