Last night I had a strange dream involving me, my brothers, and my grandmother all singing "The Chimp and the Woman". And I mean really rocking out, like busting out the harmony parts and everything.

The parts that made it strange, of course, were (a) my grandmother's involvement and (b) my ability to hit the harmonies correctly.

Today I finally met the guy who, through no fault of his own, had failed to get me a job at Astronaut Central in December. He was nothing like I had pictured him - for some reason, I had imagined a skinny, youngish geek with parted hair; I was surprised to meet a portly, balding, bearded fellow of middle age, more like what you'd actually expect a cognitive scientist to look like. His voice doesn't fit him, but I think the first name was what gave me the misconception originally.

Jenn told me on Tuesday, "We need to get you some pals."

She was right on the money, too. A man can only take so much PS2, after all. And her choice of words, though intended to be cute, was dead on as well. I don't need friends. Friends I have enough of; I've always been one to keep my friends few and close. But many of my friends are now far, and I've only got about one in this city at the moment.

They tell you in college that these are the golden years and all, once you graduate you'll have to (gasp!) get up every weekday at 9 o'clock and work straight through until 5! Well, maybe I just went to the wrong college, but I'm finding myself with a lot more free time now than I had as a student. Students are frequently not available to hang out, as I'm sure Bot will agree.

And so the search for pals begins. Tonight I'm going out with two acquaintances from college whom I will refer to as Fighter and Link (after their 8-bit doppelgangers, and with full knowledge that if I refer to them casually as such in a future entry, I'll probably sound like a delusional videogame fanatic.) Like me, they are in that not-quite-real-world limbo: Link is also staff at the university, working on a distant branch of one of the projects I'm working on, and Fighter is quasi-unemployed and applying to grad schools.

These are not close friends, not people that I would, say, tell about this diary, or call up from across the country. But they're good guys, and definite pal candidates. And most importantly, when that whistle blows at 5, they're ready to let their hair down.