Coronation Street. I spend $10 a month for a BritBox subscription to watch just that.

Nice pair of sunglasses. Wanted them, didn’t need them, bought them anyway. My wife thinks they look nice on me. Win win.

Not as bad as when you think, “That first time was probably a fluke…I’ll try drinking again.”

Some things are in our control and others not.

Epictitus, The Enchiridion

Boston is further north than NYC.

I’m in a fight club, but I’m not supposed to talk about it.

At the moment, it’s that I’ve been awake since 2AM because I can’t shut my brain off about an issue I think might come up later this week at work, that I have no control over, yet can’t help but feel responsible for.

And I would really like to just get some fucking sleep because I’m not being paid to worry about this shit right now.

I’ve had my Hotmail account since 1999 when I was in high school and it still works well enough. It’s what 99% of my accounts or web presence is tied to. I still occasionally get emails from old friends or forum members I haven’t heard from in years who only know me at that address.

I’ve spent (to me) a significant amount of time getting the folder structure, auto-sorting rules, and junk mail filters set up the way I like them. I just can’t be arsed to do that all over again for some new address that will also be considered uncool in a few years time.

I do have a couple more ‘professional’ emails, like first.last@respectableprovider.com, but they just forward to my Hotmail account anyway.

I have a hoodie with a little tunnel sewed in it to route your headphone wire down to the phone pocket.

Not sure I fully understand the question, but does your water heater have (or can you add) a sacrificial anode?

I am an English monoglot. Years ago, was working overseas in Kuwait when I experienced a sudden onset of testicular pain and swelling. Went to the hospital and got taken to an elderly Arabic ultrasound technician to examine my junk. After a few minutes of smearing cold jelly on me, he says something…in Arabic.

I do not understand.

He repeats it, this time poking me in the fupa.

I look confused and try to adjust my position on the table to give him better access, hoping this is what he wants.

He sighs, searching for the little English he knows. Finally he says, “Like pooping…but not pooping!” and wags his finger in my face. That’s how I understood he wanted me to tense my lower abdominal wall so he could check for a hernia.

Season tickets to Manchester United.

Here ya go

That non sequitur caught my attention, too…best guess is they’re referring to the Carter Administration trying to stabilize the dairy industry with subsidies in 1977 which led to a massive backlog of cheap, processed cheese stuff that Reagan unloaded on welfare recipients throughout the '80s.

I don’t even remember why now, but just a couple days ago I looked up how long ago Harris Yulin died…still alive.

I think it’s a metaphor.

Nick Lutsko - All Shook Up

I’ve tried to focus more on “being friendly” than “making friends.” It’s definitely beneficial to be cordial and stay on good terms with people. The last 3 jobs I’ve gotten have been through networking and direct referrals from old coworkers. I hate bowling but I still accept the invites to the semi-annual charity bowling events at my old workplace because I like catching up with some of the old guys and I want to keep my options open if something open up.

I also think it partly depends on whether you’re just punching the clock or if you have career aspirations. I’ve known plenty of guys who were buddy-buddy with everyone then got promoted to a managerial/leadership position and struggled because they didn’t know how to maintain professional distance.

As far as dating at work…after a couple rough experiences in my early 20’s I’d say never again. Echo what someone else said, “don’t do it at a job you can’t afford to walk away from.”

Football Manager. I’m a simple man. I don’t like starting off as a top team, it’s always more fun for me to download one of the extended databases and take an amateur Sunday League team to the highest heights. I’ve been managing my current side, Wakefield AFC, for almost 20 years. I’ve led them up the ladder from the Northern Counties East League Division One to the Championship.

I remember the first time we averaged more than 100 fans in attendance per season. I remember the first player we sold for cash (veteran midfielder Jack Sang, for a whopping $2,400) instead of letting go on a free. I remember our first ever televised match in 2030 during our Cinderella run in the FA Cup. It was a respectable 2-1 loss to a team 3 divisions above us, but the $250k share of the gate receipts saved us from bankruptcy. I can picture the statue they’ll build someday of Seb Bolton, who scored 116 goals in 223 appearances between 2026-2032 and led us to back-to-back promotions. I’m currently trying to shepherd the development of youth player Tony Okonkwo, a 6’5" center forward who very well could become our first homegrown million dollar man.

I have always wanted to go back and visit a pub in ancient Sumeria or somewhere, just to listen in and see how much people haven’t changed over the eras. People complaining about their boss, making rude jokes, singing off key…I’m sure it’s all there.

One of the earliest known jokes archeologists have found starts off, “A dog walks into a bar…” No one today understands the punchline, but I’m fascinated that style of joke has been around since the dawn of human civilization.