I hate stoner humor just as much as the next guy...

but dude, my room number?  420. 

I had to laugh.  (But I had to wait until I was away from my boss.  He wanted to LOL, too, I could hear it in his voice when we exchanged room info, but he was polite enough not to make me uncomfortable.  Because we both know the facts.  But we both try not to address that particular elephant in the room.) 

So now, here I sit, in room 420 at the Holiday Inn Express in Columbus, OH, sipping on my first beer of the six-pack of Leinenkugel's Oktoberfest (what was that about this being a dry road trip?) that I had my boss stop at the gas station so I could procure (what was that about not being a drunk in front of your teetotalling boss?) with a stack of billing that still needs to be completed before lights out (it's 8:43 right now) and a host of emails that must be addressed (because my stoopid blackberry died before we'd left the Louisville Metro city limits making it impossible to keep up with the flow of incoming messages) and all I really want to do is curl up and go to sleep.

It's been a long day.  We left at 12:30, but didn't get on the road for another hour due to delays (dropping my car at home, stopping by his house so he could get an extra change of clothes, lunch).  Then we stopped at the Cincinnati office for an hour so I could meet the people with whom I interact almost every day yet had no faces to put with the personalities.  That was fun.  Then we just drove, and drove, and drove.  The conversation was good.  It usually is with the boss.  He's a good person, even if he is one of THOSE.  We can't all be completely awesome. 

We had dinner at a local pizza franchise that has been his favorite since childhood.  We split a pepperoni, and it was good, even if i would've preferred less pepperoni.  Then he stopped for the beer, we got to the hotel, got our room assignments (giggle) and said adieu.  And then facebook nearly didn't let me log on because it didn't recognize the computer from which I'm internetting.  But I got logged in, and now I really do have to go do that effing billing and finish with those dumb emails so I can go to sleepy time. 

G'night Moon!

OH!  And did I mention that I'm so ghetto that I'd filled the bathroom trashcan with my beer and ice before I noticed there's a mini-fridge under the TV?  No?  Cause I am, and I did.