It’s settled. There’s now money on the table, so I can say with certainty that Brian, Andy, and I will be heading to Japan in September. We know just enough Japanese to get ourselves into horrible, horrible trouble.

All the anime I’ve watched has prepared me to talk like a drunk, mentally disabled, sixteen-year-old Japanese schoolgirl. Andy’s planning to go around saying HAIIIIIIIIIIIII all the time. Brian’s planning on ditching us ASAP.

Of course, if I’m going to be out of the country for a few weeks next month, that means that the mega-project I’m working on for my office needs to be up and running (and debugged) before I leave. And that means that I’m going to be busting my chops from now until that program is finished. “Real developers ship,” they say. I’m presently in the middle of a giant triage process, trying to determine what absolutely must get done, and what we can deal without if I don’t have enough time to get around to it.

And then there’s the little matter of the third actuarial exam. This one is actually supposed to be difficult, and it also costs a non-trivial amount of money to take. Going into it without being prepared would be expensive folly—and I’ve barely cracked the first of its multiple required readings.

…

I am not wanting for tunes, however, now that I’ve been reacquainted with The Beat of the Bay. I first heard San Francisco’s dance remix station while visiting Craig, and I couldn’t get enough of it then—and I can’t get enough of it now. Go go phat beats!