Just for Butcher

I'm a big pushover. You know that I'd probably come back from the dead if I was asked. Probably. Unless there was free stuff there. Then you'd be out of luck. Sorry, that's just the way things are.

So the new job is . I'm still in training, but today I actually got real work to do. REAL. WORK. I prefer that to sitting around attempting to look busy. I'm kind of a freak that way. And I got to listen to calls for a long time today, which is good since the process for writing them up is long and exacting and badly documented.

My cousin is getting married this weekend. She e-mailed to remind everyone to bring a picture of themselves for the guest book. I think that's a great idea. There's nothing better than threatening your guests with polaroiding them into immortality. It'd be funnier if everyone wasn't going to be dressed up in fancy going-to-wedding clothes. Really, considering that you've bought some kind of fancy gift for the happy couple already, dressing up should be optional. "Wow, I really like the wife beater Jimmy wore to our wedding." Maybe that's the secret to this bring-your-own-picture deal, you don't have to worry about looking snazzy since they're already going to remember you in whatever you're wearing in the photo.