Some of you have asked me what I’ve been up to since fucking off out of the barbecue joint, and how I’ve been doing. Well, thanks for your concern, but I’m doing just fine; the only odd thing is getting used to functioning on a mostly diurnal schedule like much of the rest of the world, but I’m still kind of programmed for late nights. Thanks to being currently unemployed I can come and go as I please, so I have happily wallowed in the hedonistic luxury of sleep whenever I like, interrupting my rest only to look for work, both in person and online. But fuck the full-time job search for now; I haven’t gone anywhere for a real vacation in nearly two years, and I certainly don’t have the scratch to so right now, so I’m mostly taking it easy for the time being.
My former co-worker, Joy, gave me an Amazon.com gift certificate as a going away present, and I used it to finally obtain the hard to find CD of the "best" of British comedy punk band Splodgenessabounds. The album's a truly bizarre and merrily sophomoric overview of the group's strange ouvre, including such non-hits as "Blown Away Like A Fart In A Thunderstorm," "I've Got Lots of Famous People Living Under the Floorboards of My Humble Abode," "Whiffy Smells," and of course the immortal "Michael Booth's Talking Bum," so that album has become the unofficial soundtrack to my recent liberty, therefore I extend hearty thanks to Joy.
I’ve been to the movies, I’m going to see AVENUE Q on Broadway next weekend with me mum — she’s paying — I’ve hung out with long-unseen friends, and I gotta tell ya, I love it. And while I’ve gone drinking socially, my once-legendary tolerance for the tequila and beer combo has receded to human level due to me not drinking to alleviate boredom and a general sense of my life going nowhere, so if you and I go out to hoist one, don’t expect me to be sucking down the cactus juice like I recently did.
Anyway, that’s what’s going on.