So its unavoidable now- they havent told the students not to come back... as I suggested... it seems my opinion is not held in regard. Oh well, perhaps I can hang up the goon shoes next year.

Or as soon as something better comes along.

Until then, I've been gearing up to do battle, so to speak, with the legions of momo's that arrive in greater quantity each day. But lets not talk of them, for they bore me and make the vein in my forehead pulsate most rapidly. Once my squad of henchmen (and henchwomen, provided they are both attractive and ruthless) is assembled, I'll quickly correct the momo problem.

Let us instead speak of my sister in California who is living with her Coasty boyfriend. I havent even met this guy yet, and she keeps dropping lines like "you should come visit before we get MARRIED." There goes the vein... time to change subjects again.

We, and I speak now in the grand "American University" we, rent out the pool to a local swim club that offers lessons to little chilluns and their rotund parents throughout the school year. As I am akin to the Keymaster of Gozer in all matters concerning parking permits, the manager of that program must speak with me if she wants to provide her patrons with more options than "slow down, tuck, and roll." Naturally, given my position of authority and uncontainable machismo, she has become smitten with me. Yesterday, in a most coy manner, she brushed aside the chlorine-bleached hair from her face and asked "I was thinking of offering you a free swim lesson." Smiling quickly, she added "You know, if you have nieces or nephews... or children of your own. It's not a bribe." Even though she feigned nonchalance, casually searching the floor for something, I could tell she was enraptured. I have a sense for these things, you know. So I thanked her, and told her regretably "I have no nephews, nieces, or children, but I could always use a lesson." She smiled and left, telling me she would return in a few days to check on the status of the passes she ordered. Perhaps I've forgotten how to swim since being certified as a lifeguard. I might be able to pull that off.

And of course, I may have taken some creative liberties with the retelling of that story. To be honest, vanity isnt my strong suit, she was probably just being nice, I cant accept the offer anyhow (its like a big free cheesburger from McDonalds), theres no way I could pretend I dont know how to swim, and she's probably married anyhow. But those things certainly arent going to stop me from testing the waters.

OK, time to get back to work. Hope all is well with everyone. Dusty, of course, will be sending pictures of this wedding dress so that we can all share in the festivities. Good luck to Matt in his belt test. Sabs- dont let him call you slow, you must fight back publically so we can all enjoy. Jin- congrats on the new gig girlie, I'm sure you'll do great. Brian- you must let me know if were starting a criminal element. I have to give two weeks notice with the Man. Adam undoubtedly has started classes again. Be wary of the Canadian subspecies of momo, they are most crafty. Sandra- I like the paintings, I thought they were tarot cards when I first saw them. Have a good day all.

So our brief flirtation with autumn temps was short lived, and the mercury has returned to hovering somewhere between the 3rd and 4th circles of Hell. In normal Nick fashion, I decided this weekend to spit in the eye of Mother Nature and drive my sorry ass down to Virginia Beach for the weekend. My best friend will soon be deploying to the George Washington carrier group to begin a 4 month tour at sea, and his wife said it was ok if I came over to play. We spent the weekend doing normal Nick/Jason stuff: we made some food (this time it was an attempt at beef jerkey that was met with mixed results), installed and played an old computer game (this weekend was 'Pirates Gold', that after patched only crashed once every hour), and did foolish guy things that make his wife angry (this time was smoking cigars on the deck while she peeled wall paper). But on top of that all, I learned two important facts:

1. Commuters in the Virginia Beach/Hampton/Norfolk area have absolutely no idea how to keep a car from overheating. I must have spent an hour and a half in a traffic jam that grew progressively worse because people havent learned to turn on the heater when the needle gets in the red. It's a ghetto fix, they say, but I ask this- is it more or less ghetto than sitting on the trunk of your car with the hood open in the middle of I64 because you were a fuck-up and let the engine overheat? Momos.

2. Car washes operated by Catholic High School cheerleading squads are the epitome of western capitalism. Jason and I were minding our own business, leisurely driving to and from the cigar shop in his Camaro when these jail bait sirens ensnared us. Pulling in to the parking lot at the Sunoco station, we found ourselves sitting in a line of 6 other cars filled with hapless Y-chromosomes that had been pulled off course by their nubile evil and run aground (Sorry for the nautical references, thats what happens after a weekend of being a virtual pirate). Our turn was nearly upon us when we realized that the intoxicating merfolk that flagged us down were not the ones who would be washing the car. Instead it was their younger cohorts, a group of significantly less gawkable fry, wielding sponges and towels. Little kids, some of whome I could swear looked like extras from the cast of "Annie", waited with toothless grins for us to approach, thus making the thought of retreat impossible. With Mom watching over to ensure that the younger, less couth members of my gender didnt lose control of themselves and do something rash, we shelled out a fiver for a sub-par scrub and drove off suckered. This method, I'm certain, is how all delicate, high-level negotiations should be conducted by our state department. The worst part came when we returned home, and Jason's intelligent half noted the car had been badly washed. "You stopped at the gas station where the cheerleaders are, didnt you? Idiots." Oh well, chalk it up to one more reason why we shouldnt be allowed out of the house.

As Brian can attest, Dark City has been ridiculously hot and humid for the last, oh, month or so. So when we got a nice little thunderstorm on monday, I was diggin' it. If nothing else, the rain provides temporary respite from the humidity (or as this little brunette number I ran into while on patrol called it, the "hot fog"). So when I when I left the front door on tuesday to head to my car in the morning, I was genuinely surprised to feel a crisp, autumn breeze. As were my yarbles, who retracted so rapidly they nearly knocked me over. "What the fuck is that?" They asked in unison. "It must be the beginning of the cold weather, lads." I replied to them reassuringly. "And dont you think you two are over-reacting just a tad? It's still above 60 degrees..." I continued, my hands placed on my hips, presenting a posture of TV-land parental interest.

This little scenario can only get worse, and while you all can still erase the mental picture I have crafted from your minds, I'll change the subject.

I have been enjoying the cooler temps as of late. It makes my job suck just that much less. I can promise you all that the Goon is not long for this current job. I need a change of scenery, something to jolt me out of this bubble I've created. I have to accept that the University, despite their lofty promises, is mired down with ineptitude. If I dont leave soon, that muck will consume me, and I'm simply not going to allow myself to become burnt out before I'm 25. I have to think that I'm meant for something more. I took this job, as opposed to the others I had been offered, because the lure of continuing my education for a greatly reduced cost was overpowering. The first time those schmucks at my college of choice gave me the run around about the program I wanted, I should have left. No more wasting time. I'll keep you all updated.

I have suceeded in terminating (employment wise, dont get any bad ideas) two of the four rat-bastard fuck heads that make my life difficult around here. It only took me two years and change. Before I leave, the other two will follow their momo comrades- this I promise.

Well, it seems I've been left alone in the office until we close at 5. That gives me 45 minutes to cause havoc. I'll post again soon.