Difficult Fun

Allow me to reflect, if you will, on my ass. Around this time, a year ago, I was crouching down while a friend (of the truest variety) was painting a blue 'S' on my left butt cheek and a 'U' on the right. We were behind the parking garage, stark naked, with about twenty others, getting ready for the senior streak. The soundtrack to Kill Bill, Vol.1 was playing, Mount Rainier was somewhere in the backdrop, and we were pounding down shots of vodka in preparation for the nude swan song we were about to offer over 200 of our closest, fully clothed, friends and faculty members.
Now, twelve months later, Empire State Building in view, I'm sitting here, on my ass, wearing Banana Republic slacks, with a red pen in my right hand and an acquisition proposal in my left. I'm drinking coffee that could better be described as black water and, because it's Friday, there are free bagels in the conference room. As a matter of course, it's a different location and a noticeably diametric pastime, but it's still the same ass.