As I try to clean up as many loose ends as possible before I resign from my current place of employ it seems like I’m the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke. (this is me pausing whilst some of you remove your minds from the gutter and stop mentally chuckling like Bevis and Butthead.) What I was trying to say before I so rudely interrupted myself was that the more I try to clean up the more that comes at me. I’m at the tipping point between trying to do a good job and not caring at all. Tonight for example I attended an industry group meeting where I was tricked into being on the board and I swear that the head of it was experiencing some type of brain event at the table.
He was four beers deep but without knowing him I’d say that wasn’t even a blip on his drinking radar so when he kept repeating the same point over and over again I almost lost it. I was searching my tired brain for a tactful attack strategy but luckily one of the other board members broke rst and told him that he thought we all understood after three explanations. Good thing too because I was trying to polish something like Would you shut the e up so we can get the hell out of here?” And now I’m sitting here typing this as a way of delaying a pile of asspain.
In other potentially crazy news I have a new hobby and that is obsessively stalking CanAm Spyder Roadster auctions online. I think this might be my mid-life deal but I can’t stop. I need to stumble across a bulk buy on these ridiculous reverse tricycles so my friends and I can ride around like like and alternative lifestyle scooter club. I even want a helmet with a scary clown airbrushed on the outside hockey goalie style. A man can dream.
That’s the optional trailer to hold all of my worldly possessions once they perfect TV glasses.