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February 5th, 2008



I worked from home today, and I actually didn't edit at all today.


Rather, I:

  1. Devised the meeting minutes from last Friday's Editing Council meeting, using a combination of the slides, my notes taken during the meeting, and the audio tape I made on an analog tape recorder. Pause. Rewind. Replay. Pause. Play. Pause. Rewind. Replay.

  2. Participated in today's Tivoli Editing Council meeting.

  3. Called into the first 10 minutes of the ITIM ID team meeting.

  4. Devised a prototype of a monthly communique to send out from the Editing Council, starting some time in 2008.

  5. Corresponded with Loretta about annual re-approval of a document that I don't think is in use any more.



Before making my salad tonight, I chopped, diced, or sliced: tomatoes, cucumbers, black olives, mushrooms, and celery. I still had sharp cheddar cheese, carrots, pineapple, scallions, and red pepper left.

I finished up the lettuce and the bottle of Irregardless' Lemon Tahini Dressing.

Upon finishing, I remembered that I'd also wanted to put in some raisins and dice up a hard-boiled egg that I had cooked.  Darn.



Robert checked in on AIM in just enough time to point out the beautiful sun-setting sky and how nice it was outside to me, which I would have missed, of course, without him in my life.

If it's not on my Palm Pilot calendar, it's probably not gonna happen.



I love this from The Week:

    How Fabio Got the Last Laugh

Fabio is nobody's fool, says Karl Taro Greenfield in Details. To detractors, the Italian-born model is a running gag—a metrosexual whose bulging muscles, capped teeth, and flowing hair are practically a parody of beekcake. But the joke is on those who mock him, Fabio says, because he was always in on it himself.

"I was using the industry. I used the fashion industry, the whole business, for money, for chicks, for a lifestyle. But I never let them use me."

Now 48, he says that he was "a testosterone machine" during his heyday. "Oh my God, I was going through models like crazy. I would be at [clubs] and there they were, 200 of them, all lined up. I could choose." Fabio says he now has just about everything he wants—a five-bedroom house in California, a collection of rare cars and motorbikes, and five dogs.

"And the chicks," he adds. "I still get the chicks."

Mostly he dates would-be actresses. "They're always complaining about their work, or how they are not working. About this casting or this part they are hoping to get, and I have to say, 'Come on, you're a f----ing waitress.' I don't say that, but I think that, you know, because I'm a gentleman."

Men are pigs—gay or straight.



I worked out from 8:00-9:00 this evening, during which the lunk alarm sounded once, and many more chapters of In Cold Blood were read to me.

Today's workout stats:
Machine
Type
Minute
Duration
Calories
Burned

Elliptical

60

835


I found out tonight, asking at the front desk when I checked in, "I'm sure it's the hundredth time you've been asked today, but what are they building over there in the parking lot?"

"It's a Sonic," he replied.

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