Stories of a short, fat bastard.

We stop because we're told we can. We have permission. It's like when we won the America's Cup, and Hawkey told us we could take the day off. Of course it's a bloody stupid excuse, but when you've got an excuse to bludge off, you take it!

It's just horses running around. We went through the motions today, but nobody really cared. It was an excuse to have a glass of champagne and stop thinking about Object/Relational mapping for a while. We took fifteen minutes out to watch the race and have a drink, then we shrugged and buggered off back to programming.

I won twenty bucks in the sweeps, which paid for some beer.