I went to the luncheon thingy, hosted by the Magazine Association of Georgia (MAG, motto: We have a short acronym that actually makes sense, so nyeeeah). It's one of those things where there's lunch and a speaker (topic: marketing yourself on the web), and you sit at a big round hotel banquet table with some strangers and, hopefully, a couple people from your own office who you like. Lucky for me, I was with my cool boss, Kris, and coworker Jeff.

But also at our table is one woman who's really quiet, and a man and a woman from the same printer company. The woman's not too bad, but the man is TOTALLY doing that guy conversation thing.

Here's how that works:

You come to sit down at the table. You introduce yourself around. Guy asks what you do. You (or in this case Kris) tell him. Guy then proceeds to tell you everything he knows about your own professional niche, his history in it, everyone he knows who was in it, how good he was/is at it, everything he thinks he knows about it, interspersing said bullshit with little pieces of info about how big and important his own stupid company is, how big his dick is, and how far he can piss, which is supposed to impress you (or, in this case, Kris, who just happens to be the prettiest woman at the table).

I had a little pad of notebook paper with me to use during the lecture. I wrote "Please shoot me in the head," and showed it to Jeff. He had a good time trying not to bust up for no apparent reason.

You know that true-crime movie "Fatal Vision," with Gary Cole and Karl Malden, about the surgeon who murdered his wife and kids and blamed it on home-invading hippies? And then he got acquitted and bought a bunch of boats and screwed a bunch of women, and then I think he got put in prison again.

This guy reminded me of that character. The professional who's supposed to be charming but has some freak episode just waiting to come out because he's really boring as shit, and one day he's going to realize that he's not the amazing personable guy he thought he was and that everyone's been laughing at him his whole life, and go off.

I don't think the quiet woman liked him much either. I kept changing the subject to non-work related stuff that he didn't seem to know as much about.

At the end of the meal, he handed Kris a business card with a bunch of writing scrawled on back. He told her, "Call me. I have this GREAT idea. Let's start a website for ____________ enthusiasts!" [Enter our very common magazine topic in blank.]

Oh, dude, you are so visionary.

Pardon me while I hack up my chicken breast. (The lunch was actually really good.)

No new Google Bingo hits lately.

I did have a really interesting search result hit. Someone from a Catholic high school searching on "sex with Sara." They didn't stay long.

I've also had "motorcycle cop gay sex" (31st, yeah baby), and "legionairres in action." My Legionairres get plenty action, baby, you better believe it.

Well, enough for now. I'm going to catch a smoke before quittin' time.

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11