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A post, albeit a weird one   
04:05am 24/08/2009
 
mood: drunk
music: None
I am drunk so I can't type well. So forgive me.

For those who like a sense of continuity:
My high-minded notions of giving up smoking and drinking came to nought. I drink like a chimney and smoke like a fish.

I will not trouble you all with deeper thoughts. It would depress you, and it would depres me even further.

Instead, a random thing.

I have an old brown blanket. My grandparents gave it to me some years back. It was meant to be kept in my car to keep me warm n the event of some kind of winter automotive catastrophe.

I do not have a car now.

I do have the blanket.

It does help keep me warm, more often than not.

My grandparents are dead now.

--g
 
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Some thoughts   
02:02am 24/11/2008
 
mood: ConFuckingFlicted
1) Still not smoking. Doing well so far. Underline and italicize and boldface so far. Gonna come back to that one.

2) To a degree, not smoking for the grace of drinking an awful lot. Not unusual for the last year or two, but a bit high for the last month or two. I think. Hard to tell. In principle, once the smokes have been mastered, the oat sodas are the next to go. Not in the sense of totally cutting 'em out forever, but in the sense of backing of entirely for the time being in the interest of achieving a certain basic Zen self mastery--whereby I might have a brew once in a while, or a sake, or a nice Irish whiskey, as the mood may suggest... but rarely, sparingly, on account of it messes with basic mindfulness.

3) Basically I'm filled with what I have to describe as an ungovernable rage a lot of the time any more. Oddly, I'm kind of pleased with that. As an Old Man of 35, it makes me obscurely happy to know that I can still get my dander up about things. Even though Obama's been elected. Which is better than a sharp stick in the eye you know, but on the other hand the Yankee government is fundamentally corrupt and should probably be brought down by armed revolution. It's ok to say that, innit? We still have the First Amendment, right? Plus Bush is a lame duck. We can still say things that fundamentally agree with things that Tommy Jefferson once said, yeah? Not that I wanna totally revolt against Obama, who seems like an insanely decent bloke; I wanna give him a good three months actually in office before I seriously call for revolutions against him... so check with me in like April, yeah? Still and all: there is that rage in my soul, which surprises me a bit (though pleasantly) at my advanced age. I thought maybe it was gone for good; nice to know that the smokes were merely suppressing it, another route via which The Man was Keeping Me Down. That concept in and of itself inspires me to Not Smoke in a big way. Hell, I might go straight-edge, given the chance, if I'm not careful... it's just a matter of doing away with that DRINK! if I can. And if I really want. (Not really a Drug person, despite my HST love... I flirted with the herbal jazz cigarettes a bit on and off from time to time and found that I had like one really awesome experience for every nine indifferent-to-unpleasant ones, so not really big on that thing, and I'm fearful of messing with anything more intense because I have a basically addictive personality plus my head is wired screwily enough as it is... so it's just the Demon Rum to deal with, really... if I wanna go that way.)

4) All things being equal, I oughta just go the revolution route. By and large--and the ungovernable rage only fuels this--I feel like it's a simple matter of fact that I am the Most Brilliantly Diabolical Leader Of Our Time and I should be running things. Why? Why does the phone always ring when you're in the bathtub...? Et cetera. If not for the fact that my hair looks so damned good, I'd shave it all off above the neck and legally change my surname to Luthor. Because I could do it, you know. I could basically take over everything. And there's not even a Superman to stop me. I figure, though, if I did go full-on Super-villain, someone would in fact rise to oppose me... Honestly, that's really all that's kept me on the straight and narrow all these years: the fact that becoming a full-time criminal mastermind involves more physical, mental, and moral effort than I can bring myself to exert.

5) That said... we're verging into the Holidays here. If I was so great a genius as I purport most of the time, I'd have waited 'til January 1 to quit smoking. Because I have the Holidays to survive yet. I have my Mother to deal with, to say nothing of the rest of my family. What kind of eejit would give up smoking before the goddam Holidays? Seriously. I should get up first thing tomorrow morning and buy a pack of cowboy-killers... that's the sensible thing to do. I dunno if I will. But it'd be smart. I could come back to all this general self-interest and healthiness and whatever in '09.

6) Or: I could go ALL THE FUCK OUT and declare January 01, 2009 as my personal deadline for Ruling The World. It'd take some doing--a LOT of it, really--but I could make it happen. I guess it'd fuck up everyone else's holidays, though, so that's a point in its disfavor. Bugger.

7) I am really horrible at closing parentheses, I find.

8) WE CAN NEVER GO BACK TO ARIZONA!!!

So: chew on all that, pinks....

--g
 
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The latest   
05:11am 18/11/2008
 
mood: indifferent
Still getting by. No smokes today. Just one pint of Guinness after work.

I think I'm well past the initial physical withdrawal, now. There's just the psychological end of it to deal with, the part that's just plain habitual. That'll take a little more doing.

It's a funny thing. I tend not to get cravings as such, not in the sense of really actively wanting a smoke. It's more an awareness of something missing, an awkward sensation from time to time of 'I could/would be smoking a cigarette right now, but I'm not.' A sense of being at a loose end, if you will. So then I have to sort of ride out that awkward awareness of not smoking until something else seizes my interest.

Day off tomorrow (which is really already today). Gonna spend an awful lot of time self-consciously not smoking. At least when I'm at work it's easier to keep busy... helps keep the mind off of things. Ah well.

Gonna sleep a bit now, I think.

--g
 
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LJ didn't remember me at first   
03:47am 17/11/2008
 
mood: aggravated
... But I reminded it.

So here I am.

I am thirty-five years old now (as of Thursday immediately past).

This has resulted in a lot of thinking on my part.

As a result, I have now gone eighty hours without a cigarette. I think this could possibly be it for the fags. Dunno. It's happened before. We'll see how it pans out.

I am pretty drunk though, as a matter of coping with the no smokes. I've killed a good 22 bottles/cans (which is to say, 12 oz. units) of beer since, er...

Was that last night? I think probably it was. And I am halfway into another one, and I mean to kill one more 'fore I sleep. So that'll be an even two dozen.

Wish I'd bought a case (30 cans) instead of two 12-packs though.

By the way...

Oh my dear sweet Christ do I want a cigarette right now.

But I'm riding it out.

Don't be impressed. I don't expect you to. We've all been down this road before.

(Though oul' Mickah Mayday witnessed, today, what had to have been a hell of a feat of willpower. I stood there in a gas station and bought some chips and some cheese dip and a dozen brews and a couple energy drinks but not a single solitary smokeytreat).

And that was while undergoing a singular desire to smoke like a total fiend or to destroy EVERY PERSON AND THING THAT I SAW. And I did NONE OF THE ABOVE.

Which oughta count for something, yeah?

Right now I am sorting out those last couple beers ('cos who wants to do something halfway) and eating a chicken-flavored pot noodle.

Said pot noodle claims to have 35% less sodium.

What the fuck, pot noodle? Do I not deserve my full-on excessive amount of pot-noodle salt? Why must I be deprived?

Soon I will be past the smokes, and then I will work on the drinks (mindfulness is important to a Zen master like I oughta/wanna be, dig?), and then the food. But for now, can I not have a pot noodle with excessive NaCl?

Prolly not.

Fuck.

Ah well.

Stay tuned, kids. I'll probably update this a lot, 'cos I'm starting to run out of things to do.

--g
 
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Back.   
11:02am 06/10/2008
 
mood: tired
...from Mid-Ohio, that is.

Got a decent night's sleep. The con was hard work. So was reacting appropriately to the open bar at the VIP party Saturday night. So was coping with the aftermath of that party.

Well, it's back to the oul' grind now, I guess. Got to hit the shower and start getting ready pretty soon here, so I'll say adios for now.

--g
 
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Happy 5th of July   
05:03am 05/07/2008
  ...cos I missed posting on the fourth.

Joe Strummer is specially fitting. Without even realizing what I was doing 'til after the fact, I sought out a recording of The Clash's "I'm So Bored With The U.S.A." after I got home from work.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_UN2tweVZw

That about sums it up.

I got drunk with some friends. Watched some indifferent fireworks.

Oh, and I've been smoking for the last day or two, horrible bollix that I may be. Don't worry, though--had to pay the rent today, so I'll be free of smokes for at least a week. That should do me. It was probably a temporary aberration.

Probably.

Since I live in the USA, where I can almost just about afford to live after a 40 hour work week.

Almost. Assuming I forego luxuries like smoking. Or drinking beer.

Or eating.

None of which I will do in the next seven days, in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

GO TEAM USA!!!!!111eleventyone!!!

Maybe things will be better under Obama. Or maybe not.

They'll just assassinate him anyhow.

McCain, who would have been a kickass prez eight years ago, is simply the Republican anointee for 4-8 years of More Of The Same, and Obama's a Martyr Waiting To Happen.

These are the choices we're given.

I like Obama, really. I just fear he's Doomed like JFK. And McCain will be our New Nixon.

Either way, invest in some good anal lubricant (figuratively? literally?) 'Cos Here It Comes Again.

I'm So Bored With The USA.

(Plus: Lyrics...)
Yankee soldier
He wanna shoot some skag
He met it in Cambodia
But now he can't afford a bag

Yankee dollar talk
To the dictators of the world
In fact it's giving orders
An' they can't afford to miss a word

I'm so bored with the U...S...A...
But what can I do?

Yankee detectives
Are always on the TV
'Cos killers in America
Work seven days a week

Never mind the stars and stripes
Let's print the Watergate Tapes
I'll salute the New Wave
And I hope nobody escapes

I'm so bored with the U...S...A...
But what can I do?

Move up Starsky
For the C.I.A.
Suck on Kojak
For the USA

(Strummer/Jones)
 
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By the way...   
03:26pm 26/06/2008
 
mood: exhausted
Just to have something to post here, I'll mention that I quit smoking again (though most of you Constant Readers will be aware of that already). I have had a few odd moments of weakness--maybe half a dozen cigarettes in the two weeks or so now that I've been Not A Smoker--but they're fewer and farther between.

Most of those smokes came while I was pretty drunk, too, interestingly. It seems that drinking less would be a good way of smoking less. But on the other hand, not drinking less keeps me from wanting to kill people while I'm smoking less.

On the third hand (is it the third? I've lost count of how many hands we have in play here), I am totally broke 'til tomorrow morning, so all discussion of smoking or drinking is entirely moot since I can't afford any of that at all at all. Which perhaps detracts a bit from the heroism of my abstinence.

Anyhow. Just sayin'.

--g
 
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Six months later...   
11:31pm 09/06/2008
 
mood: relaxed
Well.

Ok. So I got kind of into this other site which rhymes with 'SchmySchmace' and so insofar as I do any blogging or what-have-you, I've been doing it there. So I might have forgotten to do anything with this for a while.

Not that that's a new phenomenon, but, you know, at least I have kind of an excuse this time, even if it is a shoddy one.

On an unrelated note, I've been back to trying to rock a pompadour with a DA of late, with middling success (DA pretty decent, pomp varies depending on the moods of the Hair Gods). But I've discovered that there's a dude up North Olmstead way who runs a barbershop dedicated to this type thing, serious 50s grease-laden hairstyles a specialty. Very big with the rockabilly/custom car scene. So I'm gonna have to check this joint out, get some Professional Help with my tonsorial issues.

(It should be noted that, with the weather having gotten warm lately, a pompadour slathered with a thick layer of "pomade"--which some of us will know as a hair product mainly of image-conscious black gentlemen--is neither a practical nor a comfortable hairstyle. But I persevere, despite an intermittent desire to shave the lot off and have done with it.)

(Mick, if you tell me I look like a waterproof Liberace or ask me if I got this thing smogged, I will smack you.)

--g
 
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Okay, okay   
03:38am 15/12/2007
 
mood: tired
It has been brought to my attention that I have not updated this thing for a while.

Under other circumstances, I might have let this go, but the person who brought this to my attention is someone I have a certain amount of regard/and or time for, so there you have it.

What to say? I suppose I've been bitten by a touch of seasonal affective disorder or what have you. At least that's my current excuse. I mean that in both the sense that the change of physical seasons has messed with my general humors, and in thse sense that the holiday season kind of disgusts me on some level. I've been hiding in the Scoobcave a lot of late, and have not been overly inclined to exit it.

Work has not helped much, since my tolerance for Xmas shoppers has long since been reached and breached. My experience thus far this Xmas shopping season has been that, through a staggering defiance of the laws of probability, the vast majority of Xmas shoppers seem to have (to a one) recently experienced some form of debilitating head trauma. They are all dumber than posts, and are getting dumber by the day. That combined with (what I feel is) the disgusting commercialization and capitalization that goes hand in hand with Xmas has done nothing to improve my present disposition.

I will however note that had a couple of decent weekends not long past, largely involving getting to see some very old and very dear friends. I don't see enough of them, no, not half enough, so that was nice.

I also ate an awful lot over the course of those weekends, which has had an effect on me; my stomach, long accustomed to being poorly fed if at all, now demands food in copious quantities on an alarmingly regular basis.

Now we approach the Big Holiday itself. My Xmas spirit is not overwhelmingly powerful at the moment. Apart from knowing that I have a week and change of alarmingly stupid Xmas shoppers yet to deal with (and I will note here that these people have by and large not been rude or unpleasant, just very very stupid), I also face the fact that Xmas will require me to deal with one part of my family quite closely (something that is sure to bring much annoyance) while simultaneously coping with serious guilt from another part of my family precisely because I am not likely to be afforded the chance to deal with them.

I feel sure that everything will sort itself out, mind you; in a vexingly Xmas-special-ish fashion, my misgivings about the Big Holiday usually sort themselves out and I end up having a reasonably pleasant time of it all. Scarcely a Scroogian reversal of my feelings on the matter, but something moderately (and disgustingly) heartwarming all the same.



Perhaps I will start to update this thing a bit more frequently. It does me some good to write now and again, of course, and there is something pleasantly cathartic about this kind of vague generalized ranting....
 
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What are you, dense or retarded or something?   
08:18pm 14/10/2007
  I'm the goddamn Batman!


Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0
created with QuizFarm.com
You scored as Batman, the Dark Knight

As the Dark Knight of Gotham, Batman is a vigilante who deals out his own brand of justice to the criminals and corrupt of the city. He follows his own code and is often misunderstood. He has few friends or allies, but finds comfort in his cause.

Batman, the Dark Knight

92%

Captain Jack Sparrow

71%

Lara Croft

67%

Neo, the "One"

67%

William Wallace

67%

The Amazing Spider-Man

63%

Maximus

58%

James Bond, Agent 007

54%

The Terminator

54%

El Zorro

42%

Indiana Jones

42%


(Sorry if I've neglected this thing a bit lately. I've been busy.)

--g
 
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Facts   
11:44pm 07/08/2007
 

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Scoob!

  1. All the moons of the Solar System are named after characters from Greek and Roman mythology, except the moons of Uranus, which are named after Scoob.
  2. Tradition allows women to propose to Scoob only during leap years!
  3. Scoob can sleep with one eye open.
  4. Scoob can jump up to sixteen times his own height.
  5. Scoob is the traditional gift for a couple on their third wedding anniversary.
  6. Scoob is only six percent water.
  7. The number one cause of blindness in the United States is Scoob.
  8. Julius Caesar wore a laurel wreath to cover up Scoob.
  9. Scoobology is the study of Scoob.
  10. The moon is 400 times closer to the Earth than Scoob, and 400 times smaller.
I am interested in - do tell me about
 
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I exist.   
11:41pm 07/08/2007
  Boy, that was a long time to go and be sad.  
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Sad   
04:02pm 12/04/2007
  Kurt Vonnegut died.

This news shook me to a surprising degree. He has always been a favorite author of mine, and yet in some weird way I was not fully aware of that fact. Hence the surprise.

The first Vonnegut book I read was Breakfast Of Champions, which I stumbled upon at a fairly early age--probably not more than 12. It was appealingly weird to my even-then-warped mentality, but also very sad. I have felt much the same about every book of his I've read since (which, to my chagrin, is far from all of them--must rectify that soon, I think).

Vonnegut wrote himself into Breakfast as a character, in a metafictional kind of way, as an omniscient narrator as well as a quiet observer of the events unfolding around him. He basically sat and watched the weirdness happen, fully aware that the weirdness was all of his own devising. Toward the end of the book, the character Kilgore Trout--an aging, unappreciated science fiction writer (and a sort of alter ego for Vonnegut himself)--encountered Vonnegut and became aware that he was the source of everything going on. He realized that Vonnegut was his creator, and upon fully grasping this fact he desperately pleaded with the author:

"Make me young, make me young, make me young!"

That bit has always stuck in my mind, and as the years go by it only echoes in my mind with increasing force and poignancy.

-----

I'd have to say, on reflection, that my five favorite authors (in no particular order) are:

--Kurt Vonnegut
--Douglas Adams
--Patrick O'Brian
--Hunter S. Thompson
--Harlan Ellison

Of them, only Ellison is still with us.

There is something terrible in finding that one's heroes are dying off with alarming frequency.

I'm going to go and be sad for a while now.
 
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Food for thought   
01:07pm 23/03/2007
 
mood: pensive
Two hundred and thirty-two years ago today, a great man said:

Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

I will comment no further, but invite you to think on its relevance to our American society today...
 
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There Will Be A Test   
10:36pm 14/03/2007
  You have 42 minutes and 11 seconds to complete this test. Show your work. You may begin....

...NOW!!!

1. Can you cook?
2. What was your dream growing up?
3. What talent do you wish you had?
4. Favorite place?
5. Favorite vegetable?
6. What was the last book you read?
7. What zodiac sign are you?
8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
9. Worst Habit?
10. Do we know each other outside of Livejournal?
11. What is your favorite sport?
12. Do you have a Negative or Optimistic attitude?
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
15. Tell me one weird fact about you.
16. Do you have any pets?
17. Do you know how to do the Macarena?
18. What time is it where you are now?
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
21. Would you be my partner in crime or my conscience?
22. What color eyes do you have?
23. Ever been arrested?
24. Bottle or Draft?
25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?
27. What's your favorite bar to hang at?
28. Do you believe in ghosts?
29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
30. Do you swear a lot?
31. Biggest pet peeve?
32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
33. In one word, how would you describe me?
34. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?
 
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Simple things   
02:18am 13/03/2007
 
mood: giddy
music: "Train In Vain"
Well, today was long and boring and tiring. There is to be a Visit From (Big) Bosses at the store on the morrow. This means that all us poor peons got to spend a lot of time trying to prettify the place and generally cover up its deficiencies so that our (little) bosses can look good.

I am of the considered opinion that one best manages by keeping things in tip-top shape and well run at all times, rather than just When Someone Is Looking. But that's just me. I'm cynical on the topic, mind, 'cos I got to stay over an hour and a half past closing time to get things squared away. Anyway, the store is tolerably well run; we do good business, and we make customers happy more often than not. I will state a preference for Functional over Pretty, if you force me to make a choice (and it ain't like the store's a total sty to begin with, you know).

But that don't matter. I am happy, cos 1) I ran across Paulie and the Arm today--quite randomly, although I needed to talk to 'em (at least Paulie) so it works out well. The Force, we find, is my Ally.

And 'cos 2) I sussed out how to play "Train In Vain" by The Clash just now. This is no kind of really amazing feat, now; it's hardly the most involved and tricky song in the world, but then, I am a really lousy guitarist, so for me it's a nice accomplishment. Plus it's a good goddamn song.

Therefore: happiness and contentment, on balance.
 
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It Still Hasn't Gotten Weird Enough For Me   
11:59pm 09/03/2007
 
mood: Pro (turning)
music: "Sympathy For The Devil"
(WARNING: This entry contains black humor about elderly, infirm household pets that some may find offensive)

Last night, I was depressed. On a John-Schuck-As-The-Painless-Pole-"What Has A Guy Got Left That He Should Be Living For" kind of level.

Just now, my sister-in-law came downstairs and gave me instructions on what to do if the cat should die. This deserves some explanation... the cat (which is called Mouse) is like 15 years old, which makes him roughly 3,072 in people years or something. He is diabetic and he is blind and his control over his excretory functions is not all it once was.

Out of what I assume is a cross between Bowing To The Inevitable and Bowing To Compassion For Suffering, Josh and Maggie somehow acquired some type tranqulizer, intended to humanely and mercifully release Mouse from his admittedly rather diminished and painful existence. Today, they finally (after several days of hesitation) worked up the nerve to administer said drug. And so they did.

Repeatedly.

The first such treatment occured 'round noon.

It's now just past midnight.

Mouse has had SEVERAL doses of this allegedly potent Nepenthe, this wondrous Balm in Gilead.

Still, he lives.

Maggie assured me that her, er... source... assured HER that there was enough horse tranquilizer there to kill a llama.

I did not make that up. These are the words Maggie used.

A llama.

In a fit of Eddie Izzard/Monty Python-fueled wit, I asked what size llama.

Maggie didn't know, but she seemed confident that the llama in question would be (as llamas often are) larger than a cat.

It seems to me that Maggie has been Burned By Her Dealer.

I am fearful that perhaps the concoction which has been administered to Mouse is some kind of Haitian bokor's-paste type stuff.

Which means that Zombie Cat lives upstairs now.

I am, therefore, further fearful that Zombie Cat may take a notion to eat my brains.

Maggie said that if Zombie Cat should seem hungry, there were several cans of cat food upstairs that I might (again, her words, not mine) throw at him.

I assured her that I would, in all probability with very great force.



The point of all this is: I LIVE for conversations as weird as this. THAT is what I have left to live for.

Because, as the man once said...

It Still Hasn't Gotten Weird Enough For Me.

Res Ipsa Loquitur. Mahalo.

--g
 
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Res Ipsa Loquitur   
06:51pm 04/03/2007
 
mood: mischievous
Your results:
You are Lex Luthor
Lex Luthor
89%
Dr. Doom
82%
Magneto
77%
Apocalypse
74%
Mr. Freeze
65%
Green Goblin
58%
The Joker
57%
Dark Phoenix
54%
Poison Ivy
53%
Catwoman
51%
Juggernaut
46%
Kingpin
43%
Mystique
42%
Venom
41%
Riddler
40%
Two-Face
38%
A brilliant businessman on a quest for world domination and the self-proclaimed greatest criminal mind of our time!


Click here to take the Supervillain Personality Quiz



(OK, I might have cheated a little to get the answer I wanted--I said I was bald, which I am not, though I have been; and I said I was a 'businessman', which is probably stretching a point far beyond its inherent elasticity. But then, who expects the Greatest Criminal Mind Of Our Time to be totally honest on this sort of thing?)
 
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Nothin'   
10:29pm 26/02/2007
 
mood: indifferent
That's what's goin' on. Not a sausage. I got nothin'.

So that's why no journal entries of late. Just not much going on.

Though I get to go to see Kevin Smith on Friday, so that'll be cool.

And also: I guess at work they've been authorized to move another person up to Official Full Time Status (lots of part-timers there work 40 hours or darn close, but they don't get the Full Time moniker... the difference mainly being that the full-timers get slightly more/better benefits, although the part-timers' benefits ain't all bad neither). And I've been asked if I want to be that guy. So that's cool. I also got a reiteration/reaffirmation that I'm on the track to move toward becoming the lead Office Supplies dude when the position becomes vacant, which may be in four months or so (and moving me to full-time status is another step along that track).

So that's what's up.

Later, kids.

--g
 
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The Long Weekend   
01:29am 18/02/2007
 
mood: drunk
music: "Complete Control", The Clash (in my head at least)
I had one of those just now.

It was eventful in many ways, not least of which was that Mike and Pam got married.

I am too drunk to type right now (you don't know how many times I had to go back and retype this thing to make it work out OK).

I also SERIOUSLY need to hit the sack, cos I gotta be at work in like six and a half hours. ANd work all day too. Fucking Presidents' Day Sale.

I miss my friends a lot and don't get to see 'em enough. I oughta fix this.

Cheers.

--g
 
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