I have... did it today, as a matter of fact. Concurrent with yesterday's depo, which appeared to be a 1:00 o'clock document custodian at first glance, turning into a 250-page overnight rush somewhere around 7:00 p.m., I also started getting panicked voicemails to cover a crucial realtime depo in Jackson, Mississippi this morning. Sometimes I like to see if I can burn the candle at both ends while it's resting on my kerosene-soaked groin, so I took the assignment.

So I caught the early Southwest flight over to Ole Miss, picked up my rental and started following Mapquest's scavenger hunt-esque directions, which led me to, of all places, a truck stop. Insult to injury, the flight attendants' safety speil lasted longer than the depo, and in less time than it takes to spell M-I, Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, I, Crook -- ah, screw it -- my presence was no longer required. Seems "crucial realtime depo" has varied meanings to different folks.

But everything happens for a purpose. There was a local reporter already set up to take this plum job, who turned out to be my senior class instructor from Stenograph Institute of Texas. After wet-nursing us whiny brats, she finally realized "How hard can it be if these schlubs can do it," enrolled in theory and is now a working reporter. It was worth the trip to see her face when she walked back in the room and saw me parked at the table. We had a nice lunch, reminisced about old times, and I was back in Houston before the kids got home from school.

"It is no coincidence that in no known language does the phrase 'As pretty as an Airport' appear." - Douglas Adams

Okay, I know, damn near two months off is inexcusable, but in my defense, it's been a crazy seven weeks. Did a four-day power trip to London for depos, spent a week in Vegas for the STAR Spring Conference and chilled out in San Fran and Napa for my birthday.

The high point of the SF trip was sitting in the studio audience of The Screen Savers, a live computer help show that airs on TechTV. I wore my most hideous lounge shirt, the one that looks like a patchwork quilt made from Scarface movie stills, which caught the eye of Leo Laporte, one of the hosts, who then introduced my wife and me on an international cable show as Tony and Carmella Soprano. It was our 15 seconds of fame, lemme tell ya.

But as interesting (or not) as all that may sound, didn't really have a great "Depos that Suck" story come along until last week. Had a realtime job that started bright and early with content so dry you could make a shirt out of it. I actually considered using ventriloquism to hurl insults among counsel just to get the party started. We plodded along until 5:30 p.m., at which time the fire alarm goes off comingled with my favorite words when I'm in a high-rise, "This is not a drill." Everyone grabs their essentials and we head for the stairs. About one flight down, the videographer gets tapped to aid a woman one week post knee surgery, so I set about schlepping my laptop and what felt like a fifty-pound Sony broadcast camera down the next 19 flights.

Of course, we get to the lobby, and it's a false alarm. So we head back up to 20 and keep trudging forward to 8:30. 12-hour realtime days are tough enough without a half hour of calisthenics tossed in for good measure. As you can all guess, the worst was yet to come, once the exertion was allowed to settle into my out-of-shape gooey butt, I spent the next two days stumbling around like a constipated octogenarian, groaning with every step.

To my few loyal frequent visitors, sorry about my playing hooky. I swear I'll get my act together!

"Total absence of humor renders life impossible." - Colette