Well it’s December 22nd, and we survived the Mayan end of days.
Or did we?
Yesterday. I responded to what I’m guessing was 52 meeting invites in Cubeville. The invitations were for a standing meeting which takes place at the same time every Tuesday.
Why 52 separate invitations instead of one with a repeating occurrence, you may ask.
The reason is because the company is about to switch from one email program to another. The concern is that the transition of software will not preserve repeating calendar entries.
Ladies and gentlemen, I submit to you that this is just one of the signs of the Mayan Apocalypse when the 21st century can’t produce programming sufficient enough to transition repeating calendar entries from one piece of crap software to another.
There are doomsday preppers (or preppies, take your pick) in their bunker right now getting a gas mask covered piece of wood over this fact.
In the meantime, I feel it only necessary to call attention to the fact that today, 12/22/2012 is the sixth anniversary of 12/22/2006. Isn’t that wonderful?
It was on a windy Friday morning on this day six years ago that the kids and I arrived at the Humane Society in time for them to open up so as to adopt a puppy we had seen the night before. His name was Buddy, he had just been neutered, and unlike his junk, was up for grabs. We had tried to adopt him the night before, but it was too close to closing time for us to git-r-done.
As the joint opened up that morning, I made the mistake of being polite by holding the door open for a young couple and their Ginger child. It was a mistake because the couple had been there at the same time we were the previous night. Squatters rights applies at the Humane Society, and the young Ginger child wanted Buddy.
Dagnabbit.
After wandering around the joint for a few minutes, we found Blossom and Buttercup in one kennel. They were Buddy’s littermates.
Juniorette selected Blossom. Within about 8 hours, Blossom was renamed to Faith and we were set for years to come with a high strung Lab Jack Terrorist destined to finish her life with fewer toes than with what she started.
Happy Anniversary you little goofball.
