Many thanks to our Maximum Leader, Mr. & Mrs. FLG and Buckethead for a very pleasant evening’s non-virtual reality meeting.   (And special thankts to Mrs. FLG, who is that jewel of the blogsphere, a tolerant, nay – even indulgent, spouse.)

The food and drink flowed like milk and honey, while the conversation was both sparkling and informative.  Among other things, I learned that my utter lack of preparation means that I will be complete toast when the mutant zombies launch their inevitable attack. 

Oh, well.  If nothing else, perhaps I can at least sacrifice myself so that somebody else has a chance to make for safety.  Who knows – maybe there’s a martyrdom in it for me.  How does “St. Robbo of the Eaten Brains” sound?

By the way, to the drunk hockey fan (one among legion) who asked me half a dozen times on the Metro ride home, “Dude – shish Orange Line? Shish shtopt Vienna?”  – I hope you made it home in one piece, buddy.

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