The joys of getting old. I had two beers and a scotch yesterday, and not all in one sitting. I think they were spread out over about four hours. I had a beer celebrating the retrieval of data out of a dead computer, then a late lunch down in the grand metropolis of Scappoose, Oregon, and finally had a scotch while we tried to download data from a bullet chronograph into a laptop.

That led to a nice migraine headache. Another hobby down the tubes. My liver will probably be happy for it. I wonder if they’re giving me Anabuse instead of Gleevec.

There really isn’t much else going on during the summer doldrums. The woman I was pretending was my girlfriend (we had lunch once in a while, nothing more) is traveling the country and then is off to India for a couple of months. The attractive women at the gym have quit coming now that it’s so darn hot out. And you’d think there would be more attractive women working downtown.

There’s a modelling agency across the street from where I work and we can see in their window. The kids I work with find it quite interesting, but I finally decided it isn’t all that much fun looking at teenage girls with eating disorders. It beats looking at the 400lb guy that also works there. He likes lifting his shirt and scratching his huge belly and you should see him eat a sandwich. I should say, “You should see him INHALE a sandwich.” It’s all quite disturbing. I think he could eat a couple of the models and still be hungry.