so the bastard peeled himself out of bed to go to work and the first thing he noticed was that all of the cubicles seemed to have moved 3 feet away from where they were when i was last there. i assume that i was just too damn tired. or maybe it just seemed like a big space compared to where i'm laying my head these days. anyway, the bastard rolls in and puts the coffee ready and got the eyes open. i stroll into the editors office and ask to see the leg lamp. the major award. you know the leg lamp marked fra-geel-lay from a christmas story. the editor chuckles and we talk about how this little bit makes the bad quarter seem less bad because we're behind the eight ball a bit. this makes us all feel a little bit better and like i said it also makes the bastard feel like not every contest is as slanted as a figure skating match. now go have yer weekend, shiteyes.