Our IT guy handed me a disc today and asked me if I could read it on my Mac. It’s a 12-year-old CD of sound effects from the Hanna Barbera archives, recorded in some proprietary format by a company that evolved into the folks that make ProTools. Anyway, the discs are filled with sounds any 18-45 year old kid would recognize, from Fred Flintsone’s feet making the car go to Muttley’s teeth chomping Dick Dastardly’s ass. Good fun for customizing alert sounds.

Oh, P.S. “That’s the way girls like Lynndie are raised.”

Heh. Here’s an article about something on our minds… The heck with it. We’re going to have a big fondue pot and let people pick their own hors d’oeuvres. (free registration may be required)

Well, That Helped. So Bush got on Arab TV yesterday and yammered on about how “…the people in the Middle East must understand that this was horrible.” No shit! He didn’t apologize for a goddamn thing, though, which is a fantastic lesson to teach our kids, country, and neighbors on this planet.

I spent about two hours working on some freelance last night while Jen was sleeping, and I have to say that I am extremely happy with our new office. This morning I got up early, made coffee, and sat down to another hour or so of edits. The sun was rising through the atrium windows over my desk, and the cats quietly paced around my feet; for the first time since we moved in the new house, I felt like things are coming together the way we want them to.