The only thing worse than using a supposedly "wireless" solution that's slower than dial-up is having no choice but to do it in the Tampa airport because your flight's been delayed since 4:45PM until further notice.
I am not a very happy camper.
Plus the firmware in my .mp3 player flat lined last night, forcing me to download a new version which subsequently erased my entire 30 gig library, leaving me with whatever was lying around on my laptop's hard drive. Fortunately I had a few good things left from some burning I did for a co-worker. Right now I'm listening to The Process of Belief by Bad Religion, which is 100% bona-fied da rock. Here's the scene from the terminal right now:
Yeah, I know...hard to tell, but believe me this is a desperate bunch. The plane is just sitting out there in our field of vision, mocking our every longing glance. Other, more fortunate people enter and leave the assorted gates that surround us. I can see planes passing by as they taxi towards the runway for departures to parts unknown.
And all we have here are free sodas and potato chips.
I ate a bag of potato chips. Sue me.
Elsewhere in the world, looks like the Mets will have the whole winter to think about how, with bases loaded, Beltran could possibly strike out LOOKING. It boggles the mind.
I spoke to Mrs. Voss a little while ago; she is in the throes of an enormous bout of the crankies - it might be better that I'm not getting home until late tonight. The only thing though is, she has to work the weekend, so it leaves little time for us to be together, and I want to make sure I'm there as much as possible during the rough beginning weeks. As much as I enjoy the weekends to myself, I'd rather she have off this weekend so she can just simply rest while I take care of the house stuff.
Began writing up another horror review, this one for an oldie but a goodie - should be up by tomorrow. Also saw that FEAST finally was released on DVD - might try to catch that this weekend for another review.
Okay...flight update. Strong winds are holding us up. With luck we should be boarding around 8:00 PM. Which isn't bad, except I've been here since 3:00PM. Now listening to Robot Hive/Exodus by Clutch. Everyone who claims to rock should own this record. It never leaves my car stereo.
Have a couple contenders so far for Book of the Year. It's currently a three-way between The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy, and Life of Pi by Yann Martel. Right now I'm taking a break by starting Dr. Bloodmoney by Philip K. Dick. And as soon as it begins snowing I start the back-breaking task of reading Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time.
Does it seem like I'm looking for things to say here? Probably. It takes my mind off the mocking laughter emanating from Flight 28, which continues to snicker and smirk from the tarmac.