Blargh. BLARGH I SAY!
I don't want my brains to go anywhere. I kind of like them all smushed up inside the skull. It's a very cozy and convenient packaging solution for the age-old problem of where the hell should I put all these brains. Skulls are good, and skull integrity is important to not losing one's brains.
This puts me in an awkward position. My brain-stuff wants to go flying everywhere and nowhere at once, to break free of the chains of rational thought and just sort of blorp around, like Calvin's oatmeal. Yet, were it to do this, it would probably take some actual brains with it (since, as has been said, I don't know of a way to separate them). I do not relish the idea of my brains splattering around, nor going blorp.
I have a huge meeting on Monday morning, at some unholy hour, like 9 AM. This is because I live 6 hours away from my team, who will be sitting around belching loudly and feeling sleepy, having just come back from a large lunch. Being German, no doubt this lunch will consist largely of high-carb, high-protein goodies like potatoes and sausage, and probably a copious quantity of beer.
This will make for a very interesting meeting. I will be groggy, 90% asleep, and likely incoherent, having just dragged my arse out of bed. They will be groggy, 90% asleep, and likely incoherent, having just eaten, and wanting to haul arse into bed. Miscommunication should be rampant, and I sure as hell hope that they remember to duck away from the camera before belching upon it.
OK, yeah, I made all that up. I don't think of my team as uncivilized brutes who are going to burp sausage-chunks onto the camera during a videoconference. Yes, I've been to Germany. Yes, I know that's not what they really eat for lunch [grin] Hell, we're not even having a videoconference - pure IM. But you gotta admit, this mental picture is a lot more entertaining than thinking of a bunch of gamedev geeks sitting around in front of their computers typing away about camera angles and spline interpolation, no?
After that meeting, I will be forcefully coerced by the government to surrender a sizable portion of my finances to them, so that my money can be whisked away and applied to something terrifically beneficial to all of American society, like nuclear toilet seats. By this, of course, I mean to confess that yes, it's April, and no, I still haven't done my damn taxes. It doesn't even take that long (I use tax software now) but I still hate it, and being a lazy procrastinator, I usually leave the torment until close to the last possible moment.
Once I'm done being raped by the burly man that is Uncle Sam, I'm going to pack up and head down to Florida. It isn't really going to be a vacation per se, since I'll be taking a lot of work with me. However, my parents are also packing up and getting ready to move from Florida to Indiana, so I'll be down to take care of some of my last little cruft that they've been keeping in the house, and generally saying fond farewells to the ol' homestead. (By this I'm being utterly facetious, since I lived in that house all of two years, and generally have no powerful attachment to it, aside from the fact that me and my father once had to break in through my bedroom window after locking the keys indoors.)
Mostly it's an excuse to have a family get-together; my two sisters and all four nephews will be present as well. It should be chaotic and deeply traumatizing, if not slightly entertaining and sentimental. Then we'll set fire to the place as a nasty welcome to the poor buggers who bought it, and all drive off in a blaze of glory.
Alright, my signal-to-noise ratio has approached approximately Prolific Bullshit, so I'm going to quit burbling and go extricate my grey matter with a cordless drill.