Belize, Day 3

Today I drove the 4Runner to work.  I figure if I have to move the thing every few days, I might as well do more than drive it a couple of feet and practice my parallel parking skills (which are already awesome, PS BTW).  Plus, this can be payment for babysitting it for the week.  Anyway, it's like driving a LazyBoy on wheels.  A LazyBoy with a built in remote control, kegerator and bidet.  Well, maybe not that far - the 4Runner doesn't actually make you a beer.  But compared to the Jeep - it's like riding on clouds.  Sexy, big ass, mow you down if you get in my way clouds.

We're doing some pre-test practice runs for an upcoming GVT at the lab.  Basically what happened today was a couple of guys pulling on a couple of strap wrenches in a manner than had them all giggling about masturbation.  And all the associated comments.  It's official: boys never grow up.

And since I discovered I was pretty much dead in the water until the help desk figured out how I could edit some Matlab files (that is, of course, after they figure out what Matlab is), I took the online health assessment, which is something Boeing mandates annually.  Good news is that they give you $50 gift card to some merchant of your choice (Hello, Amazon!), bad news is that then the "health coaches" call you every three days to see how you're doing on improving your life.  This year's assessment gave you an end score and things you can improve on.  Even with a score of 96 out of 100, they still told me to drink less, exercise more and lose weight.  Epic fail.

Fat & Lazy Alcoholics, unite!

Bernie then told me he wasn't even going to bother to take the assessment, because he didn't need his computer insulting him like that.  I don't blame him.

Last UnderDog volleyball game is tonight.  I've decided that I really don't like rec-league volleyball.  I've definitely gotten better in the last six weeks, but I'm not having any more fun than when I really sucked.  It might even be worse now, because my teammates make a big deal ("Awesome job, Jeny!  Great shot!  Good work!") when ever I get the ball over the net.  And they keep pressuring me into blocking spikes and spiking at the net myself.  Um, no.  I might have a little bit of badass in me, but I like my nose intact as is, thanks much.  And there's inevitably always someone on the other team that played seriously in college or high school and is jumping around "staying loose" and aiming to break my nose at the drop of a hat.  Jerks.