The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

If the 2008 CEO could somehow travel back in time and converse with the 1987 CEO, that poor bastard of a 14 year old’s head might explode. Or, if he could find the the wherewithall to accept me and my red Japanese made time machine as actual reality, he could be completely and serenely happy like a Buddha. He’ll develop the belly later.

Scene: 14 year old CEO walking toward his house. Suddenly, flaming tire tracks appear on the pavement next to him and from out of nowhere a red Suby materializes, smoking and hissing, fresh from its journey through a rift in space/time.

CEO: Kick ass! 88 mph! That flux capacitor and the plutonium that the Ohio rep FedEx’ed me worked like a charm! 1987!! Whooo-Hooooo!!!!!

1987 CEO: What in the motherfuck just happened here? Where did that car come from? [removes Sony Walkman headphones from head; loud punk rock still audible] Who is that fat douchebag in the weird red car and why does he look oddly familiar? Why is he looking at me and smiling? That car is pretty damn sweet, but if he offers me candy and asks me to take a ride with him I am gonna kick that dude square in the nuts and then run.

CEO: Hey! You, in the Vans and the Gotcha shorts! C’mere!

1987 CEO: Uhh, no thanks. [takes step back, prepares to either run or kick some pervert ass as the situation warrants]

CEO: Whatever. Stay over there if you want — it’s all good. I’m you, here from the future. I just wanted to let you know that everything turns out OK, and that you should keep on doing whatever it is that you are doing.

1987 CEO: [internal monologue] I wonder if this guy is on PCP? [out loud] Awesome! Thanks future dude! I’m gonna get on home now I think!

CEO: Hold up, don’t leave — let’s catch up a bit. What are you listening to there, amigo? If I remember right it is probably Black Flag? or maybe the Dead Milkmen?

1987 CEO [thoroughly confused, in brain] Whoa. He couldn’t have heard that from my headphones yet I do have “Wasted Again” in the Walkman. What the hell is going on here? [out loud]. Uhh, Black Flag?

CEO: Awesome. Sorry I can’t say much more than this, as the rules are the rules after all. But I can tell you this: On August 28th, 2008, you will spend a good portion of your evening in the unfurnished living room of your beautiful Portland mansion, cranking the the exact same music you are listening to now, ‘dancing’ with your two boys. They will both laugh and laugh and laugh for several hours before falling dead asleep. Your lovely wife will be home soon. You will have rarely been happier.

1987 CEO: [stands there with mouth open for a while, slightly catatonic]

CEO: Well, gotta go. That 2006 Kentucky Derby is not going to bet on itself. You be cool, and be careful: remember, you’ve got, if not a bright future, at least a fun and interesting one. Hasta! [Red Suby peels out and disappears once 88 mph is hit 6.2 seconds later]

1987 CEO: I really need to stop sniffing glue.

I’d like to issue a public thank you to the CEO’s Chief Healthcare Provider (aka “Dr Indy”). Saturday evening at the wedding of two of Kjel.org’s favorite folk (which was awesome by the way — congrats you two!) the good doctor asked me about the leg wound. I told her about it but declined to show it; people were eating after all. You need some drugs! she said after hearing me describe how it wasn’t healing and was in fact getting worse. You allergic to any drugs? No? Sweet. I’ll phone in a prescription for some Keflex. Where do you want to pick it up?.

I will soon again be the picture of perfect health. Thanks Doc!

Just because me and a guy at work were talking about it today. When that ball went in I fully expected to see multiple explosions and Bill Murray in a camouflage hat slinking away.

Tiger’s famous chip on the 16th at the 2005 Masters:

Even though Kjel.org has been at the new HQ for a week and a half, we’re not really fully moved in yet. Mainly this is because I am a lazy bastard: once the move was about 80% done I threw up my hands and said I’m spent. This is bad, and unfair to the CFO, so I am going to make a public promise: by the end of Sunday I will have powered through a significant portion of the remaining move-related tasks. How’s that for a rock-solid commitment?

I blame my lethargy in part on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder:

Some number of weeks ago I suffered an accident. The incident in question resulted from a particular melange of factors: uneven ground outside of a beach rental home, a stairwell missing a railing that I was therefore unable to grab, and a heroic intake of cocktails by yours truly earlier that evening may even have played a role. Suffice to say, I took a nasty fall. I was able to shake off* the resulting concussion, sprains, and other injuries for the most part. The CEO’s thick skull can be a blessing in addition to a curse sometimes. What I didn’t do correctly though was to adequately clean up the injury on my ankle and over the course of the next few weeks I think it got infected. It is finally healing now but I still have an ugly looking owie about the size of a nickel on the outside of my left ankle. And the debillitating flashbacks.

And the Current Traumatic Stress:

Fast forward to last night. The CEO is giving the two lads a bath. The Intern is done, and is crawling around the bathroom while I work on his brother. The bathtub has no non-skid and is really pretty slippery, so when the Jr VP is standing to get washed I keep a hand on his side to make sure he stays vertical, while my other hand scrubs away with a soapy washcloth. The Intern sees an opportunity to strike while I am otherwise occupied. He picks up a bath toy resembling this little fellow

and proceeds to stab the hard plastic tail into a certain healing (had been healing, anyway) wound on my ankle. I screamed like a 10 year old girl at a Hannah Montana concert, all while trying to avoid having the Jr VP slip and trying to evade additional thrusts from the Intern’s improvised shiv. It was touch and go there for 10 seconds or so, but I got the Jr VP seated in the tub.You’ll do well in prison I told the AK as I picked him up and sentenced him to his crib. He’s lucky that the head warden (aka the CFO) disagreed with the solitary confinement and sprung him. The kid is only a year old I guess but still, he drew first blood, not me. Added to the list of rules at the HQ: No Stabbing Daddy. Gonna have flashbacks about this one too I think.

* Shaking off the concussion took a minute or two. I jumped up right after hitting the ground and but was not at all solid on my feet as I climbed up the stairs. Big thanks to JPink in NoPo for preventing an instant replay of the previous unpleasantness when I reached the top.

Mofo is it hot today. KATU:

Heat wave expected to peak today with temperatures well above 100
PORTLAND, Ore. (AP) - Temperatures all over Oregon are expected to shoot past 104 degrees today, making it one of the hottest days in Oregon in years. And relief won’t come until Sunday: 100-plus degree temperatures are also expected Saturday. The National Weather Service has issued an excessive heat warning through late Saturday. A high pressure system creeping up from the desert Southwest is dominating the region and bringing the record-breaking temperatures. Thursday’s reading of 102 degrees at the Portland airport smashed the old record of 97 degrees. Temperatures Friday are also expected to be in record-breaking territory with the old mark at 98 degrees.

Yesterday afternoon. Driveway of the new house at 5:15 pm: approx 102 degrees. Inside? 71. If I make it to my deathbed without having ever truly snapped (ie I never climbed a belltower with sack lunch in one hand and a scoped rifle in the other) I will strongly credit central air conditioning for my lifetime of excellent relatively stable mental health. The CFO and Messrs Tanqueray and Schwepps should get a little bit of the credit as well.

Kjel.org is now moved into the new HQ. Hiring professional movers was the smartest thing I’ve done in a long time. We’d still be doing the move today if I hadn’t. As it was, the pros had all of our stuff unloaded in the correct rooms of the new house by noon on Saturday. By moved in I in no way mean unpacked — I have a bad feeling that process will take another several months. The TV is working and the fridge is full of beer so we’re off to a good start at least.

Kjel.org signed papers this morning formalizing the sale of the current HQ. The buyer signs tomorrow. If he somehow screws up this deal this late in the process I am going to murder him. Literally, I will kill him. Full-on take his life. I mean it. I even know which gun I’ll use to do it. I might go home and clean it right now, in fact. Or I might have some sharp words for him and egg his current house.

We move on Saturday. Things are a little tense at Kjel.org. I am desperately craving an afternoon of fishing by myself (well, not actually alone. A Super Big Gulp full of Slurpee and Bacardi may accompany me) but it is just not gonna happen in the foreseeable future. Please forgive me if I snap at you. Or completely snap as the case may be.

For those of you who don’t know, the CEO changed jobs a month or two back. I’m still at my same office in SW Portland, but I very explicitly (in the course of business I swear a lot) work for the L.A. based parent company that owns my previous employer. Please allow me to use three words to describe my current work set-up: Awesome. And Totally Awesome. My boss and his boss (CEO of the company) are in the City of Angels. They don’t ever visit Portland.

Related: today at work I wore what I like to think of as “business shorts”. They were clean and expensive (got ‘em at Nordstrom after all) but still they were shorts, Tommy Bahama label be damned. In the Portland office anyway I am finally at the point where I can wear whatever the hell I want to and nobody will lift an eyebrow. Sweet. Basketball shorts and Def Leppard t-shirts are in my very near future I think.

The Jr VP is sitting on the couch next to Daddy. Everything is calm. Not for long.

Jr VP: “Daddy, let’s play rough!”

CEO: “Huh,wha-”

Daddy’s ability for speech leaves him when the first flurry of blows land. Jr punches Daddy repeatedly, laughing like a maniac the whole time.

Jr VP: “Daddy! Daddy! We’re playing rough! Yay daddy”

CEO, able to speak again: Ow! Stop! Ooof! Ah! Don’t hit me or anyone else there ever again!

The lad stops his abuse and goes back to reading his book.

Jr VP: OK. Sorry Daddy!

CEO: Just don’t do it again. Dear God please don’t do it again.

Daddy unsteadily rises from the couch to get advil and some ice.