After enduring a long week of barbecuing and dealing with the public, my much-needed time off begins. As previously stated, with the exceptions of a pre-planned ten days in the UK last May, my regular days off per week and exactly one sick day, I have been at the barbecue joint every single day since a week before it opened last year on St. Patrick’s Day, occasionally covering for my boss or the other kitchen guy, and I have reached my limit. I need to detox.
Ever since my career in comics came to an abrupt and unceremonious end, I have endeavored to figure out “what next?” and as a result I have neglected several aspects of my personal, non-professional life, and during my break I intend to remedy that. I’m not traveling, but am instead going to concentrate on actually organizing my apartment for the first time in about three years, going out to the movies, doing some more writing, spending quality time with a favorite lady friend, hanging out with a pal from high school who is for all intents and purposes my brother, and getting as motherfucking stoned as humanly possible via some seriously stinky buds that can be smelled from across the room — just the smell of my backpack after obtaining said smokables is enough to get me arrested — and simultaneously breaking in a spectacular new hookah. And if the mood strikes me I may also brew up a batch of my famous fully loaded gumbo (hopefully Alaskan King Crab legs will be available at the local fish market).
So, my time off will amount to putting things in order, pussy, and partyin’, and, MAN, am I ready for all of it!