My computer has been in the computer hospital since December 16th.
The delay is not the computer's fault; the blame for this protracted illness lies solely upon the shoulders of my certified Mac service team member, S.
My lovely wife E and I were up in the City of Champions sniffing around, and found ourselves at the doorsteps of a Chili's Restaurant. Yes. The same Chili's who employed N'Sync to sing "I want my baby back, baby back, baby back, baby back, baby back, baby back, baby back ribs!".
In the middle of dinner I had a pretty serious lapse of wits and suddenly dropped my fork and reached down to my lap to fasten my seat belt. E wasn't quite sure what the hell I was up to, and to tell you the truth, neither was I. I regained my senses in the middle of searching the bar's bench seat for my lap belt just in time to see my wife quietly asking herself if she made the right choice in marrying me this past October.
Why it happened? I can't say. The Smokey Chili Cajun Chicken Something-or-Other wasn't that awesome.
In fact, it wasn't awesome at all. The only thing I can think of, is that the bar's bench seat reminded me of the bench seat in my new ride--a '68 Chevy.
So sexy. Dual chrome exhaust. 350 Engine. AM/FM radio. We're thinking of calling it: Betsy (E's choice); Lucky (B's choice); or Betty (our compromise). Any feedback would certainly be appreciated.
I'll be back in the swing of things once my computer gets it's shit together.