You know you’ve reached a new level in your career when you receive an invitation to a training course that exclaims: “Walk the Red Carpet with the Stars of Criminal Defense!”

The scary thing is that part of me wants to go.

In case you were curious, G and i got a hold of the setlist from the Flogging Molly concert last Sunday. If you want to check it out, here is the pdf.

In comparison to the last time I saw Flogging Molly, this show wasn't quite as good. The band seemed unnecessarily loud and their new songs sounded more mainstream then the old songs. There was more a pop vibe - a more friendly sound. I'm not surprised. Mainstream songs will allow them to appeal to wider audience. Hopefully, though, they won't lose sight of what made them unique.

Dirty Maggie Mae played its first show at The Improv in Addison (north of Dallas) on January 22, 2008. We opened for a comedy show. It was a lot of fun and we did pretty well. More shows and open mics are on the way. I posted pictures on flickr.

Once upon a time, I lived in San Antonio. I lived across the street from a great little pub called The Flying Saucer. I went to The Flying Saucer a few times per week. The waitresses at The Flying Saucer were generally kind of cute. As such, my friends and I made sure to hit on as many of these waitresses as we could. I even went out with one of them. Good times. Long story, that. Anyway, moving on.

Last week, I went digging in the pockets of a jacket I don't wear very often and I pulled out this receipt, almost exactly four years after I received it. After looking at the name, I realized that I have no recollection of Jillian-Marie, which means she may be the only Saucer waitress my friends and I didn't hit on. She was a lucky girl.

I therefore present you with this fossil, this ancient record, this snapshot into the life of a 24-year-old Particleman. On Monday, February 16, 2004, Particleman was likely recovering from a weekend of drunken nothingness and decided to go to the Saucer with his fellow apathetic workmates. He dined on chips and queso, Franzniskaner, and Young's Double Chocolate stout. Particleman then likely returned to his abode, having stumbled across the "street" separating his apartment complex from the pub, located his bed, and fell on it, waking up the next day in the same business casual attire he wore the day before. After a shower, and maybe a shave if he could bring himself to it, he dragged himself back to his cubicle, where he diligently worked on documenting the software documents and running the document website at the Massive Insurance Company.

This concludes our exploration of Particleman's social life, circa early 2004.

My grandfather died on Valentine's Day. He was 83. He had lived through several heart surgeries and astounded every single doctor along the way. He was a miracle of science and determination. That's what you get when you deal with a former 25-year Marine that retired as a Major.

I'd like relate one story to you about my grandfather. This is probably what I will remember the most about him, so it's fitting for you to have as your one story about him. It conveys his character, his quirkiness, his values, and his sense of humor.

My grandfather had a system for giving his grandchildren birthday presents. Multiply your age by 7. That way, everyone was given proportionally equal gifts, and everyone knew what to expect. However, what Grandpa didn't mention was that the system would change once we reached a certain age. Somewhere in our late teens, he started giving us a single, crisp two-dollar bill for our birthdays. He suggested we leave the bills in our wallets at all times just in case we ever ran out of money and we needed a couple bucks.

Thanks to the wonderful technology of electronic payment devices (credit cards) I had no need to use my two-dollar bills. So they remained in my wallet, for years and years and years.

My aunt called on Valentine's Day and told me Grandpa had died. I was on a plane to Tampa four days later. We said goodbye to our grandfather with the Marines by his side. They shot the rifles. They gave my grandmother and my aunt each an American flag. They played Taps. We all cried.

I flew home the following morning at 6:50. Back in Dallas, bleary-eyed and numb, I hailed a taxi at the airport to take me home before heading straight to work. I looked in my wallet and noticed I probably had just enough to cover the ride and a tip. But we got stuck in traffic, and I looked in horror as I saw the fare go up and up.

By the time we got to my car, the fare was too high. I didn't have enough cash, and I didn't have time to drive around with the cabbie and find an ATM. Then I remembered the two-dollar bills Grandpa gave me. I pulled them out, gave them to the cabbie to make the fare, and got out of the car.

Grandpa, I used the two-dollar bills to get me home after I said goodbye to you for the last time. Did you know that's when I would use them? I carried them in my wallet for years, and pulled them out when I needed them. Thank you.