I was so hungry at work I almost ate a brightly colored battery because it looked like candy
Hello everyone out there! My has it been long since I've been in connection with the world. As for a lame excuse to my absence, it would be that my computer decided to die... more or less after I punched it. I've been staying sober (no I was not forced into AA by loved ones) more often, a shock to you, me and my liver. But mainly I have been spending my time preparing from what I'm doing with myself in December.
Options of Vegas-Showgirl danced into my head, of staying in Florida and retiring my soul, or to DC to undoubtedly remain a poor political beggar until the ripe age of 35 when I finally stop making minimum wage. As one option (FL) seemed only to make me cry, I weighed each one. Vegas had a nice hefty 5lbs to it right from the start. I clearly pictured myself driving down the strip with the top down on my Jeep, looking oh so cool as I'm pulling into work, of course as a dealer in a casino. Partying all night at the hot spots in town and basically wasting a year of my life partying like Mick Jagger (sans heroin). Somehow, even though my liver belongs in Vegas, I chose the path that seems more sensible, going-oriented, adult and fucking boring. But hey, life's crazy no matter where you live. Although it does crush my hopes of being in a Vegas show act before I die.
Hopefully by February I'll be soaking up some snow in the state of Maryland, desperately trying to find a job where I don't have to serve food, living in an apt so close to DC that I wont be able to afford a stitch of furniture or for that matter, running water and electricity. But I will be able to stand outside the White House knowing that only a quick frisk by security away is the very house Hillary Clinton will occupy, again, in a little more than a year from now.
So come visit me in a few months and after some time's passed you can meet my new neighbor/best friend/employer, Hil.
Options of Vegas-Showgirl danced into my head, of staying in Florida and retiring my soul, or to DC to undoubtedly remain a poor political beggar until the ripe age of 35 when I finally stop making minimum wage. As one option (FL) seemed only to make me cry, I weighed each one. Vegas had a nice hefty 5lbs to it right from the start. I clearly pictured myself driving down the strip with the top down on my Jeep, looking oh so cool as I'm pulling into work, of course as a dealer in a casino. Partying all night at the hot spots in town and basically wasting a year of my life partying like Mick Jagger (sans heroin). Somehow, even though my liver belongs in Vegas, I chose the path that seems more sensible, going-oriented, adult and fucking boring. But hey, life's crazy no matter where you live. Although it does crush my hopes of being in a Vegas show act before I die.
Hopefully by February I'll be soaking up some snow in the state of Maryland, desperately trying to find a job where I don't have to serve food, living in an apt so close to DC that I wont be able to afford a stitch of furniture or for that matter, running water and electricity. But I will be able to stand outside the White House knowing that only a quick frisk by security away is the very house Hillary Clinton will occupy, again, in a little more than a year from now.
So come visit me in a few months and after some time's passed you can meet my new neighbor/best friend/employer, Hil.