I'm Home...
I think that just about says it all, except for the fact that I am now in the process of searching for a job. It has to be some of the dullest drudgery out there. Oh well. There isn't anything I can do about, so why complain?

On a completely unrelated topic, I was watching the original Star Wars (before George Lucas gave us all the prequel trilogy crap) yesterday, and I was immediately struck by how my most recent attempt at a relationship could be compared with the rebel attack on the first Death Star. Picture this. The girl is the Death Star's exhaust port. I would be Red Leader. I've just seen some poor soul in a Y-Wing get blown away, and now it's my turn. I get my wingmen, and I go for it. Without too much trouble, I have circumvented the automated defenses (i.e., her friends and room-mate). Score. Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. I activate my targeting computer. Almost there. Meanwhile, my wingmen are being systematically destroyed by Darth Vader (my rival for her affections), who has come up behind us with deadly intent. I achieve a targeting lock and fire my proton torpedoes and pull up. Next thing I know, Vader is on my tail and is in the process of forcibly blasting laser beams through my ass just when I thought I was in the clear. And my torpedoes missed. Wow, but I am a geek. To think that I relate this sort of thing back to Star Wars of all things. Isn't it humorous?