First Kool-Aid

Yeah, it's been a while since my last post.....

So what?

I'm not abandoning you. I simply have a life is all. Ok, that's a lie. The truth is, I'm incredibly lazy and generally don't like you. Wow! I feel like such a weight has been lifted off my chest. I can stop living this lie. This lie of liking you. Tolerating you. All the while trying to conjure latent psychic abilities and simply will the life from you. Ok, maybe not that far. It does seem a bit harsh. Maybe just give you a headache or something.....

It's been an interesting week. Of course, as per my custom, I'm not going to tell you all about it. Just give you a little tidbit cause I'm a prick.

When the opportunity came up to take a first aid course, it caught my attention. Why? I'm not sure to be honest. The opportunity's come up a plethora of times before but only now did it actually catch my eye. And so I registered. I learned. I laughed. And now I am certified to give first aid. Scary thought, I know. I think the highlight of proceedings was given the abdominal thrust maneuver to a woman whom I'm sure is under 5 feet. If she isn't, she's barely over the cusp. In truth, it was a valuable lesson to learn as I'm 6'5 and it's more difficult for someone much larger to perform this act on someone smaller than vice versa. As it happened, I had to get down on one knee to do it. Probably more comfortable for her than my first idea. Which was to simply pick her up and go about things like that.

Ah, saving lives....

Remember. It's important to place the casualty in the recovery position in certain instances. Particularly if it's a dude as it's just easier to get at their wallets that way.

Class dismissed.

On another note, it's less than a week until my mama arrives to visit. Considering the fact that I have not seen her in about.....4 years.....ish, this is a bit exciting. My real motivation for flying her here was so that I could get some home cooking. Don't get me wrong, I eat very well as it is. My roomie and I are pretty damn skilled at whipping up a number of culinary delights. She more than I, but I've taken the opportunity to learn (there's that word again!). However, I think we can all agree, there's nothing quite like moms homemade whatever.

I'm salivating at the thought already.

I'll share a little (non) secret with you. I'm not a big fan of Christmas.....or any of the holidays really. Though I will admit that the food and drinking are a delight. So, with the holiday season fast approaching and despite my own personal feelings on things....

I do hope you and yours have a wonderful time whatever you may be up to and wherever you may be. I also hope you stay safe and don't do anything stupid.

Moving on....

A dear friend was sweet enough to procure a fine bottle of Highland Park for me. It'd be rude of me not to enjoy it.

Cheers.

People's Gots Faces

It has begun!

The new job, that is. Remember? I mentioned it back a couple of weeks ago? A few posts? Ah fuck it, yeah, I know you don't read this tripe. But I write it anyway. You know why? Because I'm batshit insane!!

*ahem* Sorry.

So far the new job goes well. I actually have to turn the wheels inside as I'm the new guy and really don't have a clue. Three days in and nothing has caught on fire. My coworkers are great fun and extremely helpful and also have demented senses of humour. Know how I know. Apparently we're getting a remote controlled tarantula to serve the dual function of serving as our mascot and delivering post-it notes back and forth. How sweet is that?! Early favorites for name bestowed upon the little critter include Steve and Thursday.

My boss scares me a little, however.

Training was a frightful and harrowing experience. She would loom over me, oozing scorn. Carefully watching each keystroke and mouse movement I made. The moment something I did failed to meet her, quite frankly, Goddess like standards, she would bludgeon me with a stool screaming "Nein! You vill do eet zis vay or I vill conteenuu to puuneesh you." Admittedly, the beatings sort of had an oddly soothing aspect to them. I had to admire her dedication and precision in finding the most painful spots imaginable to strike. You just don't see torturers take that kind of pride in their work anymore.

I joke, of course. There were no savage beatings or fucked up German accents.

There were muffins! I think I like these people. I think they tolerate me. Which is really more than I could have hoped for.

Please don't fire me.