The Tale of Mister Softee... and other rambles
On my way back from a meeting last week, I picked myself up an ice cream cone. It wasn't premeditated. I felt like a vanilla cone with sprinkles... so I got myself one. Anthony was insulted (in a joking way) that I didn't pick up one for him.

This afternoon, we were on a joint call together. It went fine, but Anthony didn't feel like it went fine. There were some bumps... but they weren't huge at all. Either way, he felt dumb. (He didn't need to feel dumb about it... but he did). So, I look over at him and suggested that we go get ice cream. Because I am never one to exclude... I rounded up everyone who wanted to take a walk down to the Mister Softee truck. For, you see, the Mister Softee truck is *always* downstairs by our building. *Always*

You hear me? *Always!*

So yeah... we start taking orders... collecting money... and head downstairs.

We look to the left... no Mister Softee.
We look to the right... no Mister Softee.
I start to get nervous.
Will we admit defeat?!
No. We cannot.
NEVER!

We take a walk down the block, every white truck we approach with anticipation... only to be disappointed by a standing FedEx truck.

But if we walk back into the office without ice cream, we might get assassinated! So we walked to the other building's caffeteria for ice cream cups. It wasn't Mister Softee, but it was still ice cream in the afternoon on a summer day.

Either way, it made Anthony, Scott, and I laugh our asses off, and we weren't working for a good half-hour. ;)

I love my new team mates.
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Other Randomness
- Phoebe Jr. is a boy... a healthy, 10-fingered, 10-toed, wiggley little boy... AHH... I am TOO excited for words
- I'm having to force myself *not* to watch the coverage of the storm. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that such horrible things can happen, and there's nothing that anyone can do. (Is this an example of Social Darwinism at work? Or just plain old Natural Selection? Hmm...) Whatever it is, it's horrible, and all of the people affected by the storm are in my thoughts.
- Tomorrow is Wednesday, which means that there are only three days until I make my first trip to the land of Terence & Philip
- It's unfortunate that no matter how long ago I graduated from high school, some of the people I went to high school with remain simple, petty, and immature. (No, I'm not talking about you, or you... so don't even go there!) I'm not made of glass... Some of my brainstorms are funny... and some aren't. That's the beauty of a brainstorm... if you think that my ideas are lame (or even stupid), you can tell me... I'm just helping provide you with feedback... 'cause that's what you asked for. I thought that your ideas were a great start, but only that. A start to an ongoing conversation. I'm not going to lie to you... and please don't lie to me. 'Cause we are not in high school anymore... and it wasn't cool even then. The only thing that you lying to me does (especially when I KNOW that you're lying to me) is make me respect you less, and that makes me not want to participate... which is fine... but *rolling my eyes* whatever. I know that I'll participate, I can't not. I'll feel too bad about not particpating. But I'm not going to support you. I'm going to be with my good friends. The friends I care about... who care about me... who are honest with me... who are mature enough to give feedback in a tactful and respectful way, such that I'm not upset with them, but I know that they didn't like my idea. I will just be an asshole about it in my mind. (And the best part is that in the nine years since we've graduated from high school, we've not chosen to keep in touch. And that's ok with me. FINE with me, actually. 'Cuase when we were in Jr. High and High School, we weren't really "good friends" anyway... we were friends 'cause other people in our group were close... not 'cause we wanted to be, or had anything in common. It was weird then, but now that we're older, we can choose to be friends, and, as it's obvious, we've chosen not to be... My life is quieter. It's happier. It's so much less stressful... ugh).

Sorry... I'm also PMS'ing a bit... and need to vent sometimes to get things out, 'cause they do no good if I vent them to people who actually know the person I'm bitching about. (Ok, two of you know this person, and whatever, you've probably figured out who I'm talking about, and that's perfectly fine... but me bitching about it out loud does no good... So I'm bitching to my blog and to Anthony (poor guy), and that's fine.)

If you read this far, I'm sorry... I just needed to get it out.

So now...
I'll
Just
Stop
Talking.