Someone in another office was looking for a piece of art that didn’t arrive the way it was supposed to. I checked into it and pointed him to where he could find it, with a brief explanation of the glitch in the system that caused the problem.

The little pissant sends back an email telling me all the ways that we violated procedure, implying that they would never violate procedure (they’re the worst) and that my explanation of how it happened was impossible. Like I’m not the one whose discovered this glitch and fixed about a hundred times.

I feel like getting on a plane and kicking some ass.

It’s not too bad today, but it’s supposed to get hellishly cold (oxymoron?) later this week. Like ICBM’s of Cold War nightmares, a Siberian cold front has come over the pole and is headed right for us. Thursday’s high is predicted as 0. That’s F. Come Thursday when exposed skin freezes almost instantly and your breath ices up on your lower lips, your eyeballs start to hurt because they’re starting to freeze, you will see many men walking around without hats. Probably, I’ll be one of them. I have a black felt Bavarian mountaineers hat that I picked up in Germany. It’s very warm. I had it on as I was walking out the door this morning. My wife snickered, “Tell me your not really wearing that.”

“I am.”

“Well, goodbye, Geekboy.”

I took it off. I’m a slave to fashion.

Understand me, I’m no Randy Moss apologist. But you should know this. It’s a tradition amung those ever so classy Packer fans to moon the opposing team bus as it’s pulling away from Lambeau after the game. So tit for tat I say. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out.

And you have to love the fact that he burned their best pass defender with his ankle so badly sprained I could have probably out run him.