Updateyness.

Updateyness.

Yes, I think I figured out who the secret admirer is. It's pretty anticlimactic, though, because the person was just a shy little college student.

In other, more :-| news, I have since unearthed two non secret admirers at work. The hunt brought them out of the closet. I'm flattered and all, but good god, I'm a coworker. And good god even more, I'm a married coworker.

In trying to explain/write-off the recent influx of suitors, John, over a beer, said "you're like the Luxor tower in Vegas." Whatever that means. But I'm pretty sure it was a thinly veiled insult disguised as a thinly veiled compliment, disguised one more time as a thinly veiled insult. Then he and Craig went on to joke about how I must have a giant whitehead on the top of my head, like the top of the Luxor tower. Regardless of what on this good earth he was trying to imply with the metaphor, the discussion effectively brought my ego back down to ground level.

Last thursday night, on a whim, Erik and I decided to go to the Ferry Corsten electronica show downtown. He didn't even go on stage until close to midnight. Good times. I promise, this is the exception rather than the norm, but Scott and Sarah always seem to catch us telling stories about these things and think we have fabulous, spontaneous, rock and roll lifestyles.

To dispell the rock and roll lifestyle theories, Friday night we stayed home and watched documentaries we videotaped. Note that I didn't say DVR'd or TiVO'd. We actually use a VCR still. And we can only videotape documentaries from PBS, because that's the fanciest channel we have.

To counteract the documentaries, I just booked a trip for myself to New York City to meet up with a bunch of swanky and hilarious girls for a bachelorette party. I have never been to New York City. And the trip is next weekend. Good times!

Now I need New York outfits.

Black, I hear, is so New York.

I will be flying Jet Blue and am ridiculously excited about my in-seat television. Maybe I can watch a documentary.