There. I said it.

I knocked out a whole host of problems on the site a bit ago, redesigned the css and messed with the backend. Boring, mostly. But the problems had to be fixed. And when I implemented the new super cool drop shadow images, I noticed that although the effect was supposed to work with IE, it didn't. So it looks idiotic for all you users using IE.

Then I remembered that Jill designed her website to deliberately look awful in Firefox. So my already low level of caring dropped still further. Am I punished you for Jill's sins? Perhaps. But I don't (insert Brad's former favorite cliche of mine). Maybe I'll fix it, if I have tons of free time. If not, screw you idiots still using Internet Explorer. Click the damn firefox link on the bottom of the page if you're confused about the debate...

I've been fooling around with even cooler drop shadows. They'll be implemented shortly. Oh, and after Fincher complemented a couple of the titles that appear above, you know the things that say "offensive like tet", "partisan rangers" etc. I decided to add a special one, just for her. And for her uncanny like ability to pick up a rather large error I made the other day, that Helena fixed within an hour. Thanks also to Helena for catching it and fixing it...we almost got away with it! It's a good thing Fincher probably knows the secret anyway.

Hint: it's a direct quote from our beloved ex-mayor!

As Deborah pointed out, evidently you weren't supposed to throw coins in the fountain according to the Park Service:

Oops! On a tangent, I think that there are few simple pleasures quite so enjoyable as a late lunch under the sun, in a beautiful park, surrounded by pretty girls and homeless men, all of whom are busily reading books. It a selfish sentiment, to be sure, but under a perfectly azure sky with a light breeze, the petty problems of earlier evenings seem to melt away. Even the often dry Huxley seemed especially sharp and as I am nearing the end, I'm awaiting some sort of pulp-fiction-esque deus ex machina to link the disparate plot lines and characters together. Something apocalyptic, with any luck.

I found a penny this morning.

Last night I worked until after one o'clock and went home, slept for three hours, then went back to work by five. I finished up almost everything except for one co-worker who might have been the cause of my woes yesterday. I fixed her issue and was finished around nine. Time to sleep, right?

So I walk out and realize that this is the first day the World War II Memorial opens. It opens at 9:30 so I start walking over there, and midway to my destination, find a patina penny, half-green and crusty in the ground of the mall. As I approach the memorial, a large fence still encircles it, but I arrive at 9:25, just as they open the main gate to allow a stream of preteens into the solemn arena.

The side I walked in on showed the District of Columbia prominently, so I was happy about that. The varied quotes worked well, although none were as inspirational as those on either of the two Roosevelt memorials. And then, standing there about to leave, I looked at the wall of stars and remembered the penny in my pocket. I tossed it in, the first of many, to no fanfare. Afterward I snapped a picture of it, but realized no one other than I would care about being first.

On the way back I had a sudden thought about the ongoing war in Iraq. For a minute, I realized that this administration could very well pull out and claim "victory" months before the election. Sure, a civil war would follow but why would the people in the administration care? And since we've alienated all of our allies, not even the U.N. would be willing to go back in. It's almost too perfectly awful, which means it's probably going to happen.

Looking at those battles etched in stone, at the laudatory praise given to America's women workers, I think the single greatest flaw of 43 was his inability to challenge America to do more. Instead of being asked to sacrifice, we were asked to shop. Instead of encouraging people to volunteer for government service, he encouraged people to disparage the government. Instead of trying to get each citizen to contribute a little more, Bush pushed through a tax cut. Instead of honoring our veterans, his name now rests on a policy of pre-emption. It is important for all Americans to realize that one man cannot undo the good will of an entire nation, but he can pervert it. The sooner we get the reins of power back and use them for good, the better.

The war over ideas, of freedom versus tyranny, of open government against facism, of rights over a faceless state, continues today. We may use different weapons, but each blow landed today for the truths America was founded on reverberates through the ages. By continuing to fight for liberal democracy, we are picking up where those world warriors left off: spreading peace and knowledge throughout the land. We will never give up.

A bad day. It's not over yet...

I just wanted to give a quick shout out to Deborah, who had to endure the pain of a particularly fiery hoop jumped through in order to hopefully attain her goal of civil service love. For those people who have been through said poly-centric experience, you understand. For the rest of us (including y.t.) we can only hope we never have to. Here's to you, Deborah!

So Sunday winds down as it often does, and I find myself walking with Brad and Dad into the North End of Beantown. The walk takes a bit of time, crosses the big dig, and covers the Jaime Gorelick FISA memo in the process. Nevertheless, we end up after much consternation at a delightful Italian restaurant which suits our needs perfectly.

I return from the washroom to find Adriana seated next to Brad. My firt impression, which should be taken with a grain of salt, is that she is very attractive. Remove grain of salt now. Over the next couple of hours, as we move from a discussion of Adriana's jet-setting past to the utility of ultrasound equipment in detecting blood clots, from the vagaries of Italian drivers to the often understated desire of y.t. to hang with people capable of going the distance, everythign seems perfect. The appetizers were almost as delightful as the conversation, the main dishes even more so.

Not being a revisionist historian, I will merely comment that Adriana captures perfectly the qualities most would wish to possess in a singular individual; she is graceful, cosmopolitan, intelligent and attractive. For Brad to have achieved such a stunning coup seems difficult to believe, until I remember that both he and I have never been known for an inability to overachieve.

Besides, this confirms my thoughts made years ago to Helena and Brad regarding the order of certain events. The ante may have been upped, but I am not one to fold.

At the end of the night, we parted company, with each of us looking forward to an unexciting day ahead of us. My return to the district took far longer than I had anticipated but was buoyed by some new tunes I acquired during the process.

Now, I sit here, post saint ex experience, post d darko, post everything. I am forced to reflect, a situation I never enjoy. Turn the page.

Sunday dawns, bright and clear. I dress, then roll with my dad over to Cambridge, at which point I discover that despite the warm sun, the air is very, very cool. Did I mention my shoes? I didn't...tangent time!

On the trip down, about halfway through our trip to New Jersey, we stop in a rest stop. While there, I happen to notice a strange man with long, flowing white hair plus an equally prodigious beard and a bright blue hawaiian shirt covering a large gut. Normally I'd have blinked and moved on, except for the fact that Friday afternoon, while having lunch with Fincher, she'd elbowed me to notice the same guy who was watching a new science museum open up. We'd been rolling around the streets of DC until we found this bizarre scene of kids in line, a live band belting out tunes, and old people dancing. Old people dancing is only one step above old people smoking, which is the worst combination of things ever. While there, we noticed the crazy man, who appeared later in New Jersey.

So after we get out of the rest stop, we return to the car and notice it smells bad. Really bad. Turns out my running shoes, which I had thoughtfully doused in a bucket of ammonia, had become a nightmare of vicious gas. Lacking a bag to throw them in, we had to suck it up and deal until we made it to Boston, when we threw the two of them into a drawer. Saturday when I opened the drawer above the shoes I noticed it smelled awful: the pungent shoes were starting to corrode our entire room! I knew then I needed to score some new trainers in order to trash the old ones to get rid of the horrible odor.

Saturday Brad and I browsed for some shoes, and Sunday I planned to finally purchase some, courtesy the parental unit in tow, whom I'd bought dinner for the night before. And so we find y.t. and friends at EMS at 11 in the morning, freezing, but willing to buy new shoes. EMS was closed. So we roll over to the local ABP, which not only possessed the idiotic DC lack of credit-card ability, but also any brain cells at all: the people running the store seemed dullards to the last. What should have taken two minutes took ten, and finally we were sitting outside, warming ourselves basilik style until EMS opened.

Brad met us shortly thereafter, and we snagged shoes socks and other items before heading to lunch to make use of one of Brad's numerous gift cards which had been burning a hole in his wallet since 2001. Yeah, that's right. So we end up at Legal, with a chatty UVA grad who seemed more interested in talking to the three of us than in providing quality service. Quite annoying. At least the meal was tasty. All three then split up, to study, attend a product demonstration exhibition, and hit the saunas at the hotel. We planned to get together later, and have dinner with Adriana.

Unfortunately, that story will have to wait as I'm late for some saint ex. love. But it'll be worth it...

So here goes. Friday afternoon I get buzzed that my ride is arriving a couple hours early, so I run around like a madman, depositing checks, finishing up work and packing my bags just in time for half of the 'rents to pull up outside. A few minutes later, my rent check is getting thrown into my landlord's door and we're off to the races.

The drive was long and uneventful, managing to pit the two of us against every single rush-hour traffic jam in existence. I-95 is never fun, but having to wait to get up to Boston was especially annoying. I'm glad we left a few hours early; otherwise we'd have been a blot on the asphalt around two in the morning.

Having arrived in Beantown, we crashed.

The next morning, upon rising, I discovered that my travelling companion had departed for his surgical conference. A hour of hilarity followed in which I went downstairs (we were staying on the 18th floor), discovered the parking ticket was not in the front seats, went back upstairs, discovered said ticket was not in the room, went to the 3rd floor, where I was told my dad was "on a break starting at 11:30" to which I replied, "it's only 11:20 right now" to which they replied, "yes, so he's already on break now" to which I stormed out. Ignoring the sage-like wisdom of the conference organizers, I ambushed said parental unit outside his class at...11:30, went back to the car, and discovered the ticket had been sitting in the back seat all along. Yay!

The mundane part of my visit over, I hit the gas and told the soup sipping suckers to kiss my ass. A bridge later, I was in Cambridge, home of the world's worst parking situation. With Brad's capable assistance, we parked in the only parking garage and prepared to be screwed later by the exorbitant fees.

Walking around Harvard Square reminded me of a recent foray to Woodley Park; Brad kept getting hailed by everyone in town, as if he had presciently deployed his friends at key corners to say hello in advance. The best occurred when an attractive woman stopped, in the middle of a busy street, and said hello. Brad ignored her. She remained paused, and said hello a second time, tilting her head in the process. For a brief second I thought she must know me but I elbowed my cold companion just in case. He came to his senses (we were, I must admit, at that point, burdened with a couple of extremely greasy bacon cheeseburgers and fries) and introduced me, whereupon another person happened to run into us. We moved slightly out of the way of oncoming traffic, then dispersed, us to our lunch, and them to their various engagements.

Next we ran into another friend, whom Brad insisted I had not only met before, but insulted. She seemed nice, and after some banter regarding the latest "talent show" we parted ways. Our lunch was still warm when we jaywalked across the road to sit in front of the Charles. The extremely windy Charles. Boston is apparently about 4 weeks behind DC, seasonally. Their cherry blossoms were just beginning to bloom, a pity since the gusty winds almost blew our lunch and their petals away in seconds flat. The incredibly beautiful weather made up for the tempest though, with sunny skies and perfect temperatures.

After lunch Brad continued his tour, ending with some purchases back in Boston. A wardrobe change, the pickup of the mutual parental unit, and we were at a southern barbeque joint in downtown Boston. The ribs, alas, left a little to be desired. From there I would learn to avoid food from "home" and to stick to what Beantown does best: fish. The only knock on Brad's delightful friends (that comes to mind quickly, at least) was their aversion to fish. Weird, in my opinion.

After dinner ways were parted once more and Brad and I travelled back to Cambridge to attend a friend's b-day bash. Not knowing any of the company, I kept my expectations low. A lengthy walk, the purchase of party favors and spirits, followed by another lengthy walk, all led to the apartment in question.

The place was lavish, located on the fourth floor, and included a bedroom, a living area and a personal fireplace. All for one guy. A cake was deployed, along with well wishing all around, and then a game. Since I had been warned of another game, the one chosen actually turned out to be quite enjoyable, with almost all of the included people participating. By the end, when we were ready to move to the next spot, I had almost no ability to determine Brad's friend's actual names, instead replacing them with curiously cute nicknames. No, it's not irony, but it is strange to write about now, on this particular website. The rest of the evening whenever I looked around at Brad's friends, I couldn't shake the naming scheme from my head.

As far as individual personalities are concerned, most of Brad's friends were quite cool, all were wicked smart, and most were able to go until winning time. I was saddened to discover that Adriana would not be joining us, but the good conversation and fun almost made up for that loss. (At the time, I thought it did make up for the loss, but after meeting Adriana...) From our departure of the lavish apartment, we headed to a place called the RedLine (feel free to correct me, Brad) where there was tolerable music, limited dancing space and a crowded bar. Brad's friends rapidly self-segregated, with most of the women dancing and most of the men, voyeur-like, watching them in the same manner the boys with remote control sailboats would act towards their craft the next day. Not a knock, just an observation.

As the evening wore on, I ran into an ex-district person who had attended a few werkz parties, we chatted briefly and shortly thereafter the few and proud departed for greener pastures. A special mention must be made for the two people who went the distance, accompanying Brad and myself to a dinerish location which closed down a short time after our arrival. It was no pizza-mart, but we were able to sit down, instead of being forced to roam in the streets, 'Morg style. After we walked outside I said goodnight to the final threesome, and boarded a cab ride for an uber-expensive trip back to downtown Boston. The cab driver, in a move bizarre even by DC standards, decided to hop on the MassPike, thus costing us an extra dollar in addition to ten additional minutes of time. What a loser. I made it back and crashed, preparing to rally for Sunday's fun.

Here comes Sunday...

Still not done updating image code...Beantown adventure descriptions will have to wait. Also, super-busy at work...which is why I threw up this image.

I'm thinking of making all my images 640 x 150...which would complicate things somewhat. Or, maybe, I'll make a new database...of images that appear on the front page that don't appear in the second picture project.

I only posted this picture because I was going through my images and I noticed that, behind Trish, there's this guy with his mouth wide open. Really amusing.

I'm back. Details later.

Oh, yes. One item: Adriana is elegant. For the record.