CHNEPR has become a place where I proclaim thing about which I am proud, and sometimes things about which I am ignoble.
Sometimes such proclamations fall under both.
See, this morning, in a groggy, half-awake-taking-my-Doxycycline, I made an impulse-buy. I paid $50 for a t-shirt. Actually, $50.50 for this shirt:
What’s so special? Wellllll, it’s a limited run of 75 shirts—I am a T-shirt afficionado—and it comes with year long membership to Daring Fireball. Not only is Gruber one of the most popular people on Twitter, but he’s a damn good writer, and web designer. And a mac user to boot.
With a subscription, I get full, unbridled access to customized RSS feeds.
Adds the InMo, “Now why won’t this tape hold my glasses together?”
So why am I compunctious? Aren’t I a self professed geek? I’ve spent more on a bottle of wine. I’ve spent more on lap dances in a 6-song window of time.
“Vegas, baby. Vegas.”
Shut up, InMo.
Thing is; this afternoon a groundskeeper came into the office, hoping for a weekly bonus. He always smiles, says, “morning,’ when he’s sweeping, or cleaning or wiping, no matter the hour of the day. I don’t think he understood that bonuses are based on merit and are fairly subjective, certainly not earned every week.
It was then I realized that this shirt cost me little bit more than the amount the seven groundskeepers collectively earned today.
At least it will look better on me than the dude in the picture.