Irony Coincidence, Thou Art a Fickle Bitch Person With a Sardonic Sense of Humor

So, I've been kind of railing on the USADA about what I view as sloppy work, violations of its own rules, and needlessly prolonging the Floyd Landis case. And, of course, I think they are on shaky ground with Mr. Landis and are on a path to reform . . . which is a good thing.

So, after all my whining, all my criticisms guess who I am going to have to deal with as a bit player on one of my projects? Oh, yes, the USADA. I need to confirm information for a textbook on, guess what? Testing protocols, documentation, procedures, TUAs, the entire process and permission to reprint certain things will all be discussed.

Funny, ain't it? I've been working on textbooks like this for over a decade now and this is the first time my real life and one of my projects have ever cruelly crossed in such a way.

I wonder if I can quietly slip in a Landis question during our discussions . . . Damn my wish to keep my projects. Otherwise I would ask completely inappropriate questions.

Something's Not Quite Right Here

While I'm sitting here typing up notes the manuscript for a first edition of a text book (Verdict? Very good! Only one chapter needs significant work before sending out for peer review. I think we should all be happy about that. This parenthetical statement has screwed up my sentence punctuation and I'm not going fix it.) . . . Oh, bag that sentence. I'll start over.

While I'm sitting here typing up notes on the manuscript for a first edition of a text book with Hong Kong Phooey on in the background a certain eleven-year-old is checking her stocks.

I know it's a school assignment, but I still feel like I was passed up along the way. She's mumbling about dividends and golden parachutes while I laugh at seventies-era karate dogs.