Codes

Me: Do you have hockey this week?
P: Let me check (looks in crackberry).
Me: I am really glad to see you are keeping all your stuff in there now. Now if I ask you about what your schedule is you will actually know.
P: I know. It's a big help. The only problem is when I want to put something in there that I don't want people at work to see. I have to come up with codes.
Me: Codes?
P: Yeah. Like if we have a night planned to play Halo, I have to put in a code word that I understand but work wouldn't so they won't think it's weird.
Me: Uh-huh. (looking at P like he's weird)
P: My Halo code is 117.
Me: Dare I ask why? (
P: Well Master Chief was part of a group of Spartan supersoldiers that all died and he was the only one left. His number was 117.
Me: Uh-huh....so if they know you play hockey and soccer that's ok?
P: Yeah, that's normal to most people.
Me: Do you understand what you just admitted to?
P: (looks at me and blinks)
Me: So anyway, do you have hockey this week?

Friday Crackberry Pic

Ok, this one is not from my crackberry b/c the pic I tried to take on the way to work this AM was for crap.

This is a pic of P when we were in Paris. Taken from a very tall metal structure...in Paris...famous structure. My friend L (not to be confused with sister L) lives there currently but is moving to the country in the next couple months. Her blog is the fist one on my links list but she has not updated in a while (hint, hint). This was my second trip to France and P's first. Next time we go it will be to the countryside to visit L and T probably bypassing gay Pariee altogether. Why? We are ugly Americans who don't speak French and when you don't speak French in Paris (and even when you try), sometimes (not all the time) they do mean things like send you the VERY VERY long/stupid way to Versailles, knowing there is some sort of rollerblading event on the main road that makes the bus you take after the train you take let you off about 2 or 3 miles from your destination.

BTW, totally not our fault, when we told L what happened she wanted to find the train guy that told to go this way and chew him out...in perfect French. I don't think she got the chance though.

Anyway, tonight P will be holding his Halo meeting tonight so I need to figure something out to do with myself. I may be cooking stuff for Mother's Day for next week. Hopefully the committee that is Halo players will not eat it all.

Halo...Again

So there are three grown men playing Halo 3 in my family room. There are usually four but one had other commitments (a life). They will probably play till 7pm b/c P told me they would be playing only until 6:30pm. The only thing different from them and 12 year-olds is the fact that beer is involved. I have even occasionally had one or two of them stay for dinner. Tonight is not one of those nights because up until about1pm, I thought this was a Halo Free Sunday and I planned dinner for me and P only.

You need to understand, I really don't have much against the whole video game thing. I can actually play although I usually end up being a mark for target practice. It's just this has become an every weekend thing and it takes over the house with all the shooting, grenades and blowing up noises. Our bedroom is right next to the action so that is like vibration central...and not in a good way. I came up to the office intending to make it my own but there is so much crap that needs to be done it's a little overwhelming. So I decided to sit down and blog a bit to kill time...well..I think that's about all I have to say at the moment so I guess I'll clean

the office

and hang pictures

and move stuff around

or maybe just sit here and imagine it.

Tired of Halo

"Oh, but it's a good tired." Have you heard that before? I know I have and I am pretty sure I have said it but today...no. I am tired not becuase I had yoga class and then teacher training until 10pm but because the night before P and a few others were playing Halo 3 until 1am...in the room next to the bedroom...where there isn't a real wall right now because the contracter still needs to to finish up...till 1am...did I say that already?
Now, the hilarity of the voices of guys in their 30's playing video games, merrily blowing each other up loses it's charm at about 11pm when you can't even read a mindless magazine because of the noise coming from the next room. When your noise reducing headphones plus sleep CD don't reduce that din, at 12am, charm is not only lost but your mind as well.
Now, since I have to work with 2 of the people that are playing and I play football with the other (P is neither) I can't exactly go in the room and tell them to STFU in my jammies. I could however cut off the power to the room from the kitchen fuse box...

but I didn't. P would kill me and start spouting off about the possiblity of blowing his stereo components to hell, blah, blah, blah. So I didn't do anything but mention to my DH that maybe he might not want to do an event like that again if he wanted to live. I gently reminded him that his new job had a nice life insurance policy that I could use in the event of an untimely demise ("death by stereo"...quick...name that movie!). I think he got the message.