Back to Life, Back to Reality

Chicago was awesome. The game was ridiculous. Reuniafest was everything I’d hoped for and then some. I didn’t get to see everyone I wanted to see since I was only in town for two and a half days, but I got to see a decent number of y’all, which was great.

I didn’t want to come back, and I so do not want to go back to work tomorrow. Stupid reality.

Anyway, a few odds and ends from the weekend:

– Nate and I stayed with Mark, and that led to my favorite Inappropriate Joke of the weekend, which was that we were off having threesomes, but they were the worst threesomes ever because absolutely no one was getting what they wanted.

– [whining]I hate my foot. Hate hate hate hate hate. It hurt all weekend, I kept having to sit on barstools instead of actually standing to talk to people, I repeatedly had to leave early because it hurt, and I blew about $50 on cabs I probably wouldn’t have blown if I could walk more than a few blocks without feeling like my leg was going to fall off. This horseshit better end soon.[/whining]

– Man, I’ve gotten spoiled living in California where you basically can’t smoke anywhere indoors. My throat is still killing me from trying to shout over the music in several smoke-filled bars, and all my clothes smell like they spent the weekend at the bottom of an ashtray. You guys will love life when the ban goes into effect at the beginning of the year.

– So for those of you who heard me panicking about the potential writers’ strike, here’s a fairly good summary of why TV people in particular are panicking about this.

– On the flight back, as we were coming in for a landing, I got some sort of air bubble in my sinuses, leading to some of the most excruciating pain I’ve felt in several years. And I include everything involved in my foot ridiculousness in that. Fortunately, it managed to dissipate by the time we landed, but I’m still feeling residual pain. Ow.

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