2. Last night was the annual Safety Committee dinner, where those of us on the safety committee get together at a fancy restaurant and show how safe we can be by drinking until we pass out. Our occupational safety advisor was going off about his big fancy house, and one of the guys on the committe stopped him dead (and cracked me up) by delivering this line in a perfect Chicago accent:
"Whoa, there. Slow it down, Trump."
3. As more writing deadlines approach, and as my crappy novel gets less attention, it becomes clear to me: I need a job where I can work only four days a week and still make the same amount of money. Oh, and also still get benefits. Or, ideally, a job where I can work no days a week and make the same amount. HELP A BRO-HAM OUT.