MMM 255: 2017, aka the best year ever

Because for an entire calendar year, Hillary! will never be president.  Today is New Year’s Day (Observed) at my office, so I’m going to try and get a workout in, do some office rearranging, and tidy up so that I can begin the year with a fresh, energized perspective.

How are you starting your year?

Shades indoors?  Weird.

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Big Phat Poat

Long time commenter and flyboy Phat expressed a fondness in the last poat for Michael Steel, and since he’s looking for entertainment I thought I’d not judge but accommodate his proclivities.

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MMM 244: Minimal Text Edition

Tired, sore, typing sucks.  Going to go read.

Monochrome and veiny.

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MMM 235: The end of the drive

Not of MMM, mind you, but of my time in this weird job.  There are some parts of it I’m definitely going to miss (like my coworkers, and being able to kinda sorta talk about my job and having people be interested in it), and some parts I really won’t miss (like commuting past the airport, not having my kitchen right there for lunches, not having my gym nearby).  Friday (or possibly earlier, depends on when we determine that I’ve sufficiently brain-dumped to coworkers and management) will be my last day in the industry.  I am definitely going to miss the people.  They are generally great to work with even if we couldn’t talk about much else, and to a person they really want to solve the problem.  It’s been really nice to be part of a team that is focused, competent, and positive.  If things don’t work out with the new gig, they have said they’d have me back.  I don’t know that I’ll take them up on that, but I wouldn’t feel awful doing so.  Even if it’s “just a a job”, it really isn’t a bad one, I just think I’ve found a better one for me.

Okay, time for some abs.

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Saturday Shakespearean Sonnet

Let’s just get this out of the way right upfront:

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Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with that, on to the poetry:

O, fake internet friends, how they slack off
When the long week’s toil is done and ended.
Whether they do Crossfit or just jack off,
The blog on weekends moulders, unamended.
Exceptions come, sometimes, from our Jimbro
Or if the Puppeh isn’t chasing tail.
But too often we are stuck in limbo
And Friday’s buxom freshness starts to fail.
I know well that all of you have lives
While weekends find me cloistered here at work.
But thirty-some hours on a poat is jive
Yeah, “jive” is weak; you write the next poem, jerk!
So ends my verse, now let comments commence,
And maybe push this down some hours hence.