I love bank holidays.

Where we finish a 3-day weekend, enjoy "Looney" Lunches, Ballerina Hippo's, A$$ in the face, and get to the root of P's incredible soreness.

Up…late-ish. A nice pokey morning BS’ing with my roomie. (He asked for diet advice so we dished: "Let’s look at your veggie dip, shall we Tex? 180 calories in 2 tbsp. 170 calories are derived from fat."/"So, basically what you’re saying P is that it’s all fat?" Someone wins a gold star.)

I met Mopes for a Noon Loon Lunch ("You’re very brave to be wearing a white shirt*" and "You’re so going to get the Chicken Caesar aren’t you?" Girl is getting far too adept at guessing my menu choices.) We grabbed java and she showed me her office ("Hmmm, this is what corporate America would have been like if the Germans won WWII?") and gifted me a lil' Ballerina Hippo from the Misfit Toy bin. No elves were spotted. Nor was Santa.

I spent the rest of my day off doing what? Yep. BS’ing w/Tex and having cocktails. (sighs) Life was good. Until we were attacked by Tstestse flies and we both passed out simultaneously for naps. (At least I made it to bed. Boy was laying on the living room floor, cat on his chest, using his briefcase for a pillow) A quick workout later, in addition to some projects where I put some royally messy holes in my walls (Great P. Ever hear of a concept called "measuring" b4 installing shelves?)

I headed out to wire fu with Trev and MD. (Sasha sez "Hi" RSvP) "Falling" was the theme du jour, and we did a goodly amount of crash mat work. The coolest bit? (If I may geek out) They let me do this...thing, where I ran at a rope, grabbed it, swung clockwise around a pit (filled w/crash pads) and grabbed on to the gymnastics "high bar" across the floor. All pirate-y and stuff. I tried to get all fancy and heave myself over the bar like I was a gymnast or... something.

All I did was give myself big effing bruises on my shins and feet.

I'm a clod. : (

The night ended with Sasha and MD up in the rig while we fooled around with out some ‘ography bits. One of the things we blocked wound up with me getting served a big heapin’ helping of "harnessed Ph.D A$$" in my face. This, kids, is why communication is key in both relationships…and wire-work.

Go see some clips of the fun here. In a couple more weeks, you might see P biff royally, numerous times. (And at the very least, see MD break down the mechanics of a forward tuck roll)