Thursday, June 17, 2010

The Longest Break EVER

I don't know about the rest of you, but this break has been dragging on and on and on. And on. And I feel like I've spent most of it either writing e-mails or waiting on them. I've also been working a lot from Tonio, and even though he's got a tablet screen and the entire CS3 production premium suite, I miss Monty and have been counting the days until it reopens.

It must be the work environment. I don't work well when I'm isolated in a single room without anyone to run into on my way to grab something caffeinated, and it shows. I should grab a ferry to the Civic Center and go lounge about at that posh hotel for a day or so while the library's closed. It's not like they pay attention to who's staying at those hotels or anything. It'd sure be nice if the city didn't shut down every day at sundown. Some rain would be nice too, and I'm talking about the sort of rain that cools things down, not the kind that blows in for an hour and then leaves abruptly like nothing ever happened. I swear, the last time it rained, the city was totally dry again no more than fifteen minutes after the sun came out.

At least my tiny apartment has killer A/C.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

My Latest Ingenious Revelation

Well, kids, last week during a well-deserved vacation to Disney World and Islands of Adventure, I discovered that I have a physical condition that an extraordinarily small number of individuals my age exhibit. I've named this condition "Theme Park Tank Syndrome" and will be forwarding my findings to the medical community along with a nice "please don't admit me to an asylum" cover letter.

Throughout my twenty-odd years of theme park excursions, I've found that I can go from the time the park opens to the time the park closes without eating, drinking, or using the bathroom without having to worry about passing out or peeing my pants. At first my parents assumed I'd grow out of it like most normal humans, but to their dismay the condition actually developed further through my teenage years, turning me into a veritable theme park tank capable of skipping roller coaster lines in rapid succession and eating away valuable minutes of my less-thrill-ride-savvy companions' vacation time.

After five years of research into the condition, I've drawn a conclusion that my digestive system, upon entering the gates of a theme park, freezes completely. This would account for both my resistance to normal hunger and thirst and my resistance against extreme gs, hairpin turns, and corkscrew loops. Upon exiting the park my innards resume their normal functions. I've yet to find a theme park that's open long enough to test exactly how long the effects can last and see if there are any negative side effects that stem from remaining in Theme Park Tank Mode for too long. Until then, I will be hopping lines and wearing my fastpasses thin running circles around the Floridian roller coaster circuit, hoping that all those government grants I've applied for will go through and I'd be able to afford to continue my studies.

Honestly, if I find the source for this, I could be saving millions of adults money on park food and barf bags, and billions of hard-earned hours waiting at roller coaster exits for their kids to finish their rides.