Semper Fi

Interrupting my boss's daily life: going surprisingly well.

New, more personal goal: Learn how to fly.

First of course, I'm going to need to get a bird morph. I'm thinking some sort of raptor. Does anyone here know off-hand which raptors are native to this area? I want something that's not going to attract too much attention.

Question of the day. How do you protect someone with the IQ of a rock and the self-preservation of a lemming?

One of my - many - jobs as head of security is to protect the bank president. For all that it obviously entails, that also includes making sure he knows ways he can help to make himself safe in his everyday life. I have been working for this man for years now. I started small, because God knows while the man has a knack for business, a four year old has more common sense than he does. And he still doesn't get it. Either that, or he's a sadistic little bastard that does get it and is just trying to get me to have a break down and strangle him in the middle of the bank.

I told him not to have predictable patterns. Simple, right? Don't use the same route to work everyday. Don't go to the same restaurant at the same time every week. I'd be happy if he could just get down the basics. But I find out today that his idea of "avoiding predictable patterns" is to order a different McDonald's breakfast sandwich everyday. At the same McDonald's. At the same time. Every. Single. Day.

Which means I will now be rearranging my life in an attempt to thoroughly screw up his. The man won't avoid patterns on his own? I will make him rearrange his perfectly ordered days. Will I enjoy doing it? Probably more than I should.

I am taking requests. I know there are people far more devious than I am. Suggestions, especially on how to make him skip his McDonald's breakfast stop, are more than welcome. Creativity is the name of the game here, people.

You know those conversations you overhear that you wish you hadn't?

Today, as I was walking past the break room: "Opinions are like testicles. Kick them hard enough and it doesn't matter how many you have."

...I don't even want to imagine how that came up in conversation.

Baxter got out today. I ended up having to go to work before I found him. I was worried he was going to get hit by a car or something. To my surprise however, when I got back home, he was waiting at my front door. With the headless body of a squirrel with him. Apparently, his hunter's instincts haven't been dulled by years of living inside. Or getting Meow Mix served to him twice a day.



So Baxter is back inside where he belongs. But he's eying the squirrels outside. I don't think he'll be forgetting about today for a while.

There. I did it. I am registered. And I did it without killing the annoyingly perky photographer who kept trying to get me to smile for the picture on the card. It's a fucking registration card, not a family photo. I don't think she was quite so perky by the time I left.

( Private to ARC )

This is Wesley Erikson. Leave a message. If I don't call you back, it means I don't want to talk to you. Don't call again.

People are stupid. In what world does taking a gun into a bank seem like a good idea? I don't care if you're seventy, and it's unloaded and you somehow got it into your head that you need to store it in your safe deposit box. Having a teller take you to the vault with the safe deposit boxes and pulling out a gun is. NOT. A. SMART. THING. TO. DO.

God, I was so tempted to go Boxer and pee on her leg after everything finally got settled.

To make matters worse, the neighbors asked me to baby sit. I said no. Then they sicced their six year old on me. What the hell am I supposed to do with a six year old girl for four hours? Because I'm not playing house. Or... whatever else it is kids these days play. I swear, the Marines could call me back right now and tell me they're shipping me off to Iraq and I'd take that over this hell.

( Profile )