The Ms. Pac Man Challenge

Into the bar he walked and across the way he looked. She was there, his nemesis, ready and waiting. Was he ready? Could he challenge her, was it to be a duel to the death? Only one way to know he thought, challenge her now or else, live in fear and denial his whole life. So he did, and they went to the Ms. Pac Man, drinks, and thumbs at the ready.

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Psst… do you know ebXML?

I have a Geekcorps project on the beautiful border between Kenya and Uganda, right near where I went whitewater rafting on the Nile, which requires a Systems Integration Geek for four months starting in May, 2005.

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I am an American Consumer

Its Saturday afternoon, and I am about as far from African Happy as I can be. I am still happy, mind you, but in a way only an American can be, happy in a way an African might only dream of, happy in a way I know you can relate to.

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Twenty Hours of Travel

Bridget Jones is on the telle, doing her thing for the second time, this time with Dutch subtitles. I’m in 31C, laptop out doing my thing, writing my website while hurtling through time and space at some ungodly speed. Now over the Atlantic, soon to be in Washington DC, with Saharan sand still staining my shirt.

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Sunday = Labadi Pleasure Beach

I always felt that my Sunday Boring Sunday in Belfast was the extreme in Sunday shop closings. There, nothing is open on Sunday except church. Well Accra now ties with Belfast in its ability to roll up even the sidewalks on the seventh day.

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