As a man, I am often am manipulated by women. (Bear with me here, even if it isn’t true, it makes for a better story.) I end up going out when I don’t want to and having no fun. I help my ex move into a house with her new boyfriend. I helped my friend Sun move a huge and heavy hide-a-bed. And my sister makes me do even stupider things like pick up dog poop.

Well, today I got two frantic phone calls from a woman who was having networking problems. She told me to call her as soon as I got home. Twice. I got home, wolfed down my dinner, and called her. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. And then watched 24 and now here I am. Time to hit the hay. If things go the way they usually go with this woman, she’ll have fixed things on her own. She just likes to panic.

Well, tomorrow Dave is supposed to measure me. I dunno. Who wants to know how much larger his belly is than his chest? Heh. Well, we’ll see. This is stage one of “putting on the 10 pounds.” If I’m lucky, it won’t all be all on my keister, though the padding could help me in my hard job of sitting around at Megacorp.