the blogging capitol of the world . . .

is apparently Orlando. Going over my stuff from the conference I found a couple of notes for blog posts. Yes, I know this is a new low, but I'm trying not to dwell on that. I felt I should share them with you because if I've turned into some weird blogging nerd, you can bet your sweet ass I'm not going down alone. After all, it's mostly your fault. Before I build the anticipation beyond my capacity to deliver:

• Apparently there have been a number of advancements in alarm clock technology over the past 10 years. In that time I've had only one Alarmie. We are old friends, but he is truly harsh. As soon as it's time, he starts screaming at me as loudly as possible. I get up; snooze him; sleep for nine minutes; repeat. Well, the hotel's alarm clock had a different tack. It employs a gradual waking method. First a gentle be, then a bee, beep, a little bit louder now - beep-beep and beep-beep-beep. By then, I was usually awake, but I venture that after some more beeping a rubber mallet pops out and taps you in the head. I think it was a Michael Graves design. Why do I think that? Because it was white and had big buttons. If it's white and has big buttons, it's Michael Graves. Unless it has a tape deck, then it's a My First Sony Radio.


• Khakis don't hide ink stains very well. In fact, they highlight ink stains. Not sure how khakis handle highlighter stains, but it's bound to happen. I'll let you know.


• I was tagged all week, one of those, "Hi. My name is Roger" deals. I knew this; I was wearing the thing around my neck for 5 days, but that didn't prevent the (in/e)ternal questioning . . . "How did he know my name?"


• Correlated reference in a table function call - TAB1 is not materialized; it's TOP-BOTTOM-TOP. Oh wait, that note's from when I wasn't brainstorming my next blog post.


• Let's, you and me together, establish a statute of limitations on the wearing of "yeared" clothing. Such as, Tri Kappa Gamma Summer Formal 2004. In the airport I saw a guy (not like it would be a chick) wearing an "US Open 1997" t-shirt (tennis, not golf). I'm all for a quality t that's comfortable, holey and pit-stained, but eight years MIGHT make it a little dated. Let's agree that five years is the limit and leave it at that. Unless you're talking 2000 Rocky River Coed Soccer Champs; that shit is timeless.