You'd think someone died.

I wasn't in Indianapolis for more than an hour before I heard the news that Colts defensive stud, Dwight Freeney may miss the remainder of the season. As if everyone here wasn't mourning the team's back-to-back losses as it is, this has people on the verge of tears. I thought the bartender was going to cry in my bourbon.

Good thing this place doesn't have any tall buildings...

Anyway, I got home from the comedy club, er Seahawks game, last night (Seahawks have now shutout 3 of their last 4 opponents on Monday Night Football) after ten o' clock and was settling in to post some pictures from the game (I finally remembered to take my SLR to a night-game) when Kristin reminded me that I had yet to pack.

"Yeah, I know. That will take 5 minutes."

She then reminded me that I had to be at the airport by 4:30.

In the morning.

So it's with baggy eyes that I sit here typing in a Radisson hotel somewhere in the north side of Indianapolis. I tried to order room service earlier but nobody picked up the phone so I called the Guest Services number to see if they could help me. I was told room service ended at 10pm. The clock on the nightstand read 10:02. So I asked if the free coffee in the lobby was fresh -- it was only natural that the first detail of the hotel I noticed was the small sign announcing they proudly brew Starbucks coffee -- but was told that they had actually just taken the coffee down for the night.

Apparently guests seeking services after 10pm are S.O.L. In retrospect, I'm actually surprised the woman at the front desk didn't admonish me for being up so late on a work night.

Defeated, I went into the bathroom to make a mini-pot of the vile-tasting coffee in the cellophane package. How anybody can use powdered creamer outside of an emergency situation like this is beyond my ability to comprehend. I feel like a druggie slumming for a fix.

Okay, maybe coffee is addictive. I'll agree to whatever you say, just get me some beans!

Oh, and from the Department of Things My In-Laws Don't Want to Read, Kristin and I tried to calculate how many times we had sex over the past 14 years. That was a rather interesting conversation, the details of which I will keep to myself. I'm not the type to kiss and tell. Or am I?

That was really uncalled for. I apologize for that. Then again, I was never known for my restraint. Read this blog long enough, you're bound to stumble on some stuff you just wish you didn't know. Heck, I feel that way about it too. And I'm the one writing it!

Anyway, I have some meetings scheduled tomorrow and I know that the editorial team is taking me out for lunch. Mexican, I think. I haven't seen everyone since last year's E3 (aka THE LAST E3 EVAR) so I'm really looking forward to it. Like I said last year, the only reason I ever looked forward to going to E3 was to hang out with my editors. I'm only here for one night though. I fly home tomorrow evening and then it's right back into crunch mode, as I have to positively, absolutely, no excuses allowed get a book done by next Tuesday so we can get it to retail by mid-December. It's a really fun project I'm working on, which I'll write about once it comes out. I'll have some copies to give away next month, so stay tuned.

Lastly, I lost my fantasy football game by one point this week for the second time this season. Man, that irks me to no end. The 49ers were so lousy last night that Hasselbeck only needed to throw it a half-dozen or so times the entire second half. One more pass for one more yard would have given me the point I needed to at least tie. Fortunately, I did win this week's go-around in the Salary Cap League I'm in so it looks like I'll be collecting $20 from the Commish tomorrow.

That's almost enough to cover half of the cab ride back to the airport.

Two thousand, three hundred.

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