Maybe it was YOUR fault I got sick, because I only started going down on Thursday. It's all your fault!!

Nope. Must be BigLibraryBoss's fault.

Or maybe Amyliz's.

I'm afraid I have to be heretical and say I think Fleuvog makes ugly shoes.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to be agnostickal and say I think Fleuvog sounds like some German Natural Philosopher's name for "an dis-ease that afflicts the nasal passages and sinufes with an enflammation followed by an sloughing of the sheath, coupled with an imbalance of bodilly humours."

Since MiracleMan has some unexpected time off work, I hope he's working on that teleporter. If he hurries up and finishes it before tonight, we could all still go to Jilli's party!

Bring me precious tritium! In return, I will not only finish the teleporter, but present to you Spider-Man, alive but unconscious, that you may take your vengeance on him for, allegedly, killing your billionaire industrialist father who may, or may not, have been a super-villain.

Yup, Miracleman's got time on his hands.

Yup, Miracleman's got time on his hands.

You can be as much of a smart-ass as you like, Connie. I will have you know that by Day Three of Gleeful Exile from the Hellish Black Tower of Ennui and Rage I have:

Cleaned the house, top to bottom.

Submitted five (FIVE) writing samples for writing positions at G4 network

Updated the whole resume thing

Begun a new resume solely for post-production work, for submission again at G4.

Dealt with the EDD stuff, including arrangements to have back debt paid.

Arranged already for a number of freelance oddjobs with Sean, Drew and people none of you know.

Done all the laundry.

Mopped every floor surface in the house.

Gotten up every day with Emeline, dressed her, made her breakfast and brewed fresh coffee for my wife, the Empress.

Note, if you will, the first entry and the last three entries. I point them out, why?

Because, I?

Best. Unemployed. Husband. Ever.

Best. Unemployed. Husband. Ever.

Yeah, but mine can cook. And make armor. And Elizabethan garb.

Hee. Also? Adorable as Pete.

ETA: Though wait a sec...isn't this whole "caring for the family" thing what got you fired? Man, I can see why they wouldn't want a guy like that around.

Rolling. Eyes. Forever.

Yeah, but mine can cook. And make armor. And Elizabethan garb.

I can cook. And I could make armor...POWERED ARMOR, WITH BOOT-JETS, LASER GUNS AND ABLATIVE SHIELDING...if only y'all would cough up with the, ahem, aformentioned precious tritium!

I cannot, alas, make Elizabethan garb. I buy that shit at Doctor Doom's yard sales.

Nope. Must be BigLibraryBoss's fault.

Or maybe Amyliz's.

Wait, what?! I'm innocent, I swear!

::runs away to hack up a lung and blow my nose::

Edited because Miracleman really *is* the best unemployed husband ever. Mopping floors. I'm impressed.

ETA: Though wait a sec...isn't this whole "caring for the family" thing what got you fired? Man, I can see why they wouldn't want a guy like that around.

Now, now, it makes sense if you think about from their point of view. It goes something like this:

"I am a soulless robot drone, enslaved by a heartless, uncaring, monolithic corporate entity that daily grinds my spirit away a bit at a time. My life is grey and meaningless...food tastes like ash and sand...television is harsh colorful light in a box that I must watch without ever knowing why...and those that surround me, both at work and at home, are faceless wraiths, empty husks of people equipped only with gaping maws that howl out a constant stream of 'FEEEEEEED USSSSSS'. My life is a barren hellish landscape.

"And this man...this BASTARD of a man...enjoys his life outside of work. He bring light and color into the sacred tomblike workspace and curses its mien, rages at its attempts to crush him and...on purpose...chooses at times to NOT SHOW UP that he may tend to people whom he lo--lllllll...lur...I can say it...whom he....LOVES!!

"We must kills him, my prrrecccciousss, yes, we must kill the evil human-man who has color and happiness, we must crush his breath from him...

"But we are tired, preccciousss Bottom Line. So tired.

"We'll just fire his ass, instead."

I said, "Yeah. I wore them for hours when I was in San Francisco." Then I thought about it. "Then again. I was drunk most of that time."

Hee! Yes, yes you were.

I take it this is another one of those liquers that tastes like licorice.

Anise-esque, yes. Much more herbal and less sweet than Jager.

Miracleman really *is* the best unemployed husband ever. Mopping floors. I'm impressed.

pays for MM to come up to SF and clean her apartment, stocks mucho booze in way of bribery