Knowing how you love it when I offer you some bullshit excuse for being far too lazy to post, I offer you this not particularly amusing, not quite a story about what I'm up to.
So I wandered off from Save the World after they offered me a 26-percent pay cut to take a job that would've had me doing 33 percent more work (and a big goofy wave to occasional Save the World readers Molly and Slim, and former Save the World reader and consummate lifesaver Amelia). I been on vacation since, except for the parts where Save the World CFO Iosef Stalin keeps calling me to do little stuff (I did jack a few consulting days out of him for periodically exciting Databoy and Bam-Bam by ringing my phone).
I spent four days in Maine, communing with the moose, my father John the Daftist, and stepmum Lucretia Borgia. There was lobster, there was a boat ride, there were fiddles, there was a lot of veering around the Maine coast in John's Prius looking for food. I had fun, but by the end of the four days Ilse was smearing the walls with graffiti written in feces and blaming an imaginary talking poo. Okay, I'm lying. I had fun for about 24 hours. But the thing about Ilse? God's own truth.
I'm also looking for a job. It appears that good things are happening, but I can't discuss them yet, lest appearance become ether. Two more days. Two more days, and perhaps we'll have another amusingly named workplace. We'll see.
And now? It's 10 AM and Databoy and Bam-Bamm are still asleep. Why am I blogging?
Futbol blogging later. Ta.