Your happiness won't find you underneath that canopy of trees

Without much fanfare King James was dethroned yesterday. He had showed up to work late yet again and Karen had had enough. She performed the deed without anyone present, which surprised me. Last week she had been so spooked by James' demeanor that she was considering calling the police before she fired him and she wanted at least me and two other people there when she confronted him. She wanted him gone so badly, she fired him without anyone there. It was just the two of them in the building. He didn't put up much of a fight and left after Karen handed him his final check. Karen's got a bigger set of balls than most men I know. I know I was relieved when I heard the news this morning. It would be an understatement to say I was dreading having to fire James myself.

For what it's worth, I think James is a pretty good guy. Sure, he freaked both Karen and I out on several occasions, but his laugh, when it was let out, was something to be heard. It showed he was human, if nothing else. Oh, well, what's done is done. And despite the fact that I don't think James is as bad as Karen makes him out to be, he needed to be let go. There was a palpable sense of a piano being lifted off our collective back in the shop today. I just hope the next guy is an improvement.

There will be more lopping off of heads in the weeks to come. Karen and I decided enough is enough; the inmates will no longer be running the asylum, and those who don't get with the program, will be unceremoniously booted to the curb. Hell, yes!

Of course, I say that and then I think about how, despite their incompetence, fond I am of most of my crew. I won't shed a tear or sink into regret if any one of them gets fired, but I will sincerely wish them the best. Aw, heck, maybe I will shed a tear or two. Go ahead, call me a Nancy-boy, I know you want to.
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I love my new bed and sheets so much! These sheets are something else, I tell you. Whenever I get beneath them, I feel like I'm getting a massage. Okay, it's definitely not like a massage, but it feels good and I'm too lazy right now to work up a way to accurately describe the sensation. And besides, who the hell wants to know how my sheets make me feel? I'll tell you what, if you really want to know, contact me, and I'll write a special blog about my sheets. Don't think I won't, readers.

I toyed with the idea of posting a bulletin on myspace about my new sleeping arrangement. It would have gone a little something like this: " Attention ladies: I have a new FULL sized bed and some sexy sheets that make you feel like you're getting a massage, or something. I will be accepting applications for a copilot. You owe it to yourself to find your way into my bed. Act now, before it's too late."

I only toyed with the idea because I'm not sure how effective the bulletin would have been. It would have at least been better than those other inane bulletins people post. Who knows, maybe after a couple of glasses of juice, I'll be able to muster the courage to set the wheels of my burgeoning love life in motion.