Did I not tell you???

Y'all should know. I just wrote the best post ever, but I magically deleted it because I'm working on a laptop that has secret delete hotkeys. I'll try to recreate it.

So....I got back to my office after a long day of trying to explain to investment bankers that the magical sum you believe you are entitled to and the amount you actually have a chance in hell of convincing a jury that you are entitled to are very different things, and so you should consider the actual cash money on the table. Investment Banker Dude still thinks in terms of justice and fairness. Isn't that cute?

That was followed by drinks and snacks Chez Boss's Hotel, which is a mere 20.6 feet away from my post-modern meta-hipness Hell (the plates on the wall* are a bit much...

(Note: well-lit work space)

...but I must give props for the shag carpet in the library). Anyway, I walk into the lobby and the joint is blaring the 80stechnoeuroindustrialcrap I imagined it should play not 2 days ago. Think Cube Squared. Or don't. The Viceroy Hotel in Santa Monica affirmatively answers the age-old question, "Can you be too designed?" Why, yes. Yes you can. Even the ceramic brittany spaniel desklamp agrees.

Anyway, I'm blogging late at night because I finally broke down and decided to incur the wireless internet cost at the hotel. I had refused to incur the $10.95 per day because I was assured that the AT&T aircard I brought with me meant that I would not have to incur the cost, except that the software wasn't installed on my laptop. I tried to install the software, but no one would give me administrator's rights. IT in NY was kind enough to insisted for 3 days that the software was installed, so on principle I wouldn't give eurotrashhiphotel the pleasure of charging me for internet access.

At one point, my office manager told me that I had to log onto an internet-based software system in order to access the internet.

--------Just chew on that one for a spell-------

Finally, the NY office IT guys sent an LA office IT guy into my conference room to confirm that it isn't installed.

Hmmmm. Now can I get an apology from NY for all of the names they called me behind my back? I believe "that dumb bitch from CT" needs a little love.
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* Shut up, Corrie.