I spent a large portion of yesterday admiring my desk. It�s all warm and inviting� complete with a little accent light. Between the million arm-around-a-girl-but-none-a-girlfriend pictures, and aforementioned �accent light,� they�ll figure it out soon enough. I came in this morning to find my faux wallpaper peeling off. It seems the weight of my nameplate (and He-Man standing on it) was too much.

Is it fun that for the cost of shipping I could�ve bought a whole �nother family member a nice Christmas gift? I UPS�d my mom her Martini set, and my parents� measly surprise gift� a picture of yours truly in a worn-but-cool looking frame. I�d see it as an extremely narcissistic gift too, except that the most recent picture they have of me is like 5 years old. I�d like to think it will be their favorite gift. I�d like to think.

I have a date next week with a guy who�s about to move to town to begin an internship with a law firm. Imagine that� an attorney in Dallas. He�s currently in KY visiting his family for Christmas. Mmm� authentic southerner.

Speaking of attorneys� the date with Matlock is going to be downgraded to coffee from dinner. No need in dragging anything out.

So I saw this ad at the local Starbucks for a small Flash developers� meeting taking place early January. Looks to be a geeky, professional-connection-making good time. (reads: new job prospects, new job prospects)

Venturing to the mall last night, I last-minute-shopped my way into Sharper Image where I purchased a rather lame car air ionizer for dad. His vehicle always smells like dust and dried corn, and he spends a lot of time driving, so I figured that�ll have to do. Afterward, I was off to the West Village Borders for my sister-in-law�s gift. The ever-so-thoughtful gift card. The only thing preventing the West Village Borders from being classified as a gay bar was the lack of a thumping beat and the fact that the guy at the cappuccino bar was wearing a shirt. Each time the door opened, regardless of how enthralled those reading appeared to be, their books dropped and heads turned. After all, the words on the pages will still be there, but the new hottie on the premises won�t.

God bless the gays and our lack of subtlety.