There's something about eleven hour workdays...

that really kick the shit out of you. I wasn't even up for poker, though I went anyway as I haven't for three weeks, and I lasted all of an hour and a half before I decided, "Fuck it." Then again, I'm going out of town next Wednesday, and I didn't want it to be a full month without stopping by. Perhaps the next Wednesday I go I'll actually get in on the first table and play a while, until then it was good to say hi, and call it a night. I'm crashing and it's still early.

Let me sum up my day briefly: Today was one of those days where coworkers above me bought my lunch and dinner. I think because they both knew I had been burning some midnight oil and banging my head against concrete walls without so much as a helmet. When you're new to an organization it's hard (especially when you are titularly unclassifiable) to throw your weight around (for instance if I was known as the Northwest Regional Manager, shit, it'd be over), so most of my approach has been to play nice cop. Ultimately, I don't have a choice in the matter... I have no clout, so my only defense is "Like me so much you don't want to fuck me over." Well, that only gets you so far before someone tries to fuck you. Fortunately everything has worked out mostly, as it were, and today I got accomplished what needed to get accomplished. I just get the feeling that the project I'm working on (which has a due date of tomorrow) is like Jason Vorhees and shit. Tomorrow Night, regardless, I'll be singing Ballads of miscreants.

Fantastic Four this weekend? Maybe so.