Angst, Christmas and the Death of Wheezy AGAIN

I opted for walking the dog this morning having enjoyed snuggling with my wife a bit too much. My fancy iPod nano recording my every step. This walk consisted of 3,146 steps and was 1.53mi long, burning 187 calories and if you buy that wisdom then keep reading bucko! Since I got the gift in October I've taken 479,753 steps - in your face nameless person! As Layla and I walked in the morning drizzle I pondered the current political environment of fear and loathing, honestly, why does Harry Reid hate unicorns? Haters gonna hate I guess but I thought everyone liked unicorns.

Last night Wheezy found herself trapped in a cave with a giant she managed to piss off, probably because she was sent there to kill him by some bigwig Jarl. Look, it's a living, don't judge her. She's perpetually broke blowing her winnings on training, weapons, and housing not that they help much. To the casual observer, unfamiliar with Wheezy's fighting style it might appear that she was taunting her sluggish opponent with her ritual, "Neener, neener, neener - missed me, missed me now you got ta kiss..." WHACK the giant's club finally connecting with her like a dock worker's bat will connect with an occupy Wall Streeter's rib cage if they don't unoccupy those ports. By the third time she respawned Wheezy had learned her lesson, pumping ninety arrows into the giant having it crash, Goliath like, at her feet. Another 100 gold pieces towards that patio furniture she's been eying but first she has to buy the house.

My boss dropped off Christmas, er holiday gifts for his staff today since he's taking the next two weeks off. His Birkman red leadership style nicely offsetting my Birkman blonde by beating me to the punch. Actually by forcing me to act. I eye the generous gift thoughtfully and in the spirit of Christmas darkly mutter, "There will be... retribution!"