[Writing today "because I've GOT TO, Mister!" rather than because I want to or feel it in any way. I'm still vaped from con and unsupportive girlfriend's 36 hour "joke" of dropping off a one year old and then leaving to get a full day spa treatment. But...the reason I haven't had writers block in nearly two decades is because I write SOMETHING even when I don't feel like it/it feels like a chore/I'm not inspired/it's work/etc....]
Me: I need you back.
Me: I want you to head up our R&D department.
SG: (long pause) Okay.
SG: Yeah, okay.
Me: That's it?
SG: Did you want me to say no?
Me: You did say no.
SG: Until your compelling offer.
Me: Oh god, you're thinking of secret experiments with the time/space continuum to go back in time and save The Lieutenant aren't you?
Me: You know our budget is point zero zero zero zero zero zero zero one three percent of what it used to be, and destruction of all notes and equipment was a condition of the Octorian's cessation of hostilities.
SG: Then you don't have much to worry about do you?
Me: Right, like I've never seen an episode of any science fiction show. Ever.
SG: Then back to Jack Daniels and hotel porn for me.
Me: Okay, fine.
Me: I really need your help. I'm sure this is going to come back to bite us in a couple of seasons, but I have a hacker giving out bad advice on W.A.W. in my name.
SG: And you're worried that this hacker will impugn the pristine reputation of W.A.W.?
Me: When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.
SG: I'm pretty sure there's no other way to say it.
Me: Yeah, well. Do you want this promotion or not.
SG: I do. And you want me to have it. But it doesn't mean I'm not going to be sardonic and make fun of your ridiculous sense of fashion.
Me: Well, wear your name tag then, because I'll need to be able to tell you apart from everybody else on the damned staff.
SG: No need. I'll be the one in the lab coat.
And so I came home with the SciGuy--after a brief stop over in San Ramon to hang out at a gaming convention, which I will be writing about soon!