I spent most of yesterday afternoon working on Deb's diary. Then we had a marvelous dinner (see Comfort Food) and went off to Terry's going away party.

I got to see old buds from my former queer newspaper days and gave one of them the URLs for Badsnake and Dear Denzel. There were lots of coworkers from here at the magazine too. One was fairly soused and on the drive home, Deb says, "That woman is crazy. We're talking batshit crazy." Well, yes. But it's particularly noticeable with alcohol added.

I picked up the remote for my new TV. Three remotes actually. The hideously abused original remote, the second remote that Terry didn't like, and the third remote (a universal controller) that he bought to replace it. All in a baggie with the television's original instructions. I'll still only be able to get two channels until Direct TV is hooked up (on the 26th).

I sure am going to miss him. He's been a part of my life for six or so years now, often playing the role of my exec editor and doing that very well. *sigh* It was hard to say goodbye.

I've scheduled a meeting with the psyCOO this afternoon to volunteer to go to the convention (Have I got any regular readers in Chicago?) and talk about what we need in a new executive editor. I'll act all proactive and teamworky and shit.

I also talked to coworkers (some of the cooler ones) about the social scene at convention. They said that in previous years they had played Slut Bingo (Hmmm. Could be my kind of game.) and assigned points to different categories of persons one slept with during the convention. I told them we (meaning the family) had a "no one you work with" rule and they didn't blink an eye. Interesting. I will have a room all to myself. I'll be there up to six days. Hinting for invitations here.

Waiting ...