Whenever I'm in Day Two of an all-nighter and other coworkers ask, "Did you go home last night?" I answer No in the manner that you would answer No if someone asks if you robbed a bank on your way home from church. I'm looking forward to a nice relaxing San Diegan weekend.

Bloggers seem to be all abuzz about Robert Novak leaving the set of Inside Politics. If I had a rat's ass, I still wouldn't give it to you. I'm a miser that way.

I reduced my 401(k) contribution by 9%, and resulted in a take home increase of a couple hundred dollars. I'm putting my future at risk by buying more inane crap now. I think I'm okay with it. Wait? Am I? Yes, yes I am. Ah, I feel better.

I love the portion of the evening when the section of the brain that discerns funny from not-funny shuts off. I especially love the portion of the evening when the section of the brain that discerns funny from not-funny overruns everything. Imagine trying to scream in frustration at 4am and your body only managing to giggle hysterically for three minutes. Stupid cerebral cortex, taking naps when I'm still plugging away at work.

You can buy a traveller at Starbucks, a small bag o' coffee that contains three-quarters of a gallon of any drip they've got on tap. At twelve dollars, it works out to be about a 50% savings versus buying twelve tall drips individually. I knew that I would be kept awake either by the caffeine or by the stomach ulcer. Joe responded that you probably wouldn't want to be awake during a stomach ulcer.

Ron [shrugging]: Meh, I needed to schedule a checkup with my doctor anyway.

So here I am in Day Two of an All-Nighter. I think I typify the guerilla commando mentality that makes my company so successful despite our small numbers. Every task has two things in common: they've gotta be done, and they've gotta be done well. Even if you're in the part of the morning when the section of your brain that creates a pleasing narrative thread completely shuts off.