The tension becomes unbearable

So here it is, the last day of work before I go on vacation. I'm sure that it will be an easy day, full of leisurely cups of coffee around the water cooler....what?...you need this now, it's an emergency? Oh, you've known you needed it all week but forgot to pull it out of your ass until just now? And your unavailable in a meeting all day so I can't clarify your circuitous, sanskrit request? Sure, happy to.

So a few weeks ago, I put my actual motorcycle in the shop to get some work done on it. Well, of course I hear nothing back from then until 2pm today. "Hey, your bike is done" -- "Hey, can I pick it up after I get back from my vacation that I"m flying out for at 8am?" "Well, we're undergoing bankruptcy reorganization, but I'll try to..." "I'll be right there." Bankruptcy... really?

So Michael's family is telling him that we're going to get there too late, we're going to miss the flight.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stop, stay in control. Paranoia big destroyer. I need a vacation from preparing for my vacation.

So we'll get into Vegas a little after 10, go straight to the Harley shop and pick up the bikes, and ride to Red Rock Canyon. We're staying downtown near Fremont street for the first Vegas leg, so that Michael can see the seedy, old Vegas. The California doesn't have internet in the rooms, so I'll have to hunt around to post tomorrow night.

Oh, and what the hell is the deal with Rhythmic Gymastics anyway? Balls, sticks, ribbons, writhing young girls, it's a combination toddler birthday/strip club. Totally beyond me.