I've long been planning to start my own cult, but now I'm starting to get the idea that it's really all been done, and there are
plenty of groups who have done the work for me. I went to a dance given by the
National Kidney Foundation on Friday in honor and benefit of my sister and other transplant recipients and wannabes. She's a
transplolympian, and they need money to go to Louisville, KY next year. By the looks of things at the party, they'll be able to rent elephants to ride up there if they want.
On an unrelated note, here's a picture I came across today. I don't know who's in the pic, but I'd like to meet her.
I came close to vacuuming the floor today, even going so far as to remove the instrument from the closet and relocate it to the floor in need. I guess I don't wanna rush into something like that. The roaches might stage a coup if I messed with their turf.
Nothing much is new at work. I got a call from a 32-year-old man, who has no phone, no job, no credit card, no bank account, and no mailing address to speak of who is desperately searching for a...wait for it...
blue lightsaber. We don't have any in stock, and they're only getting to the distributor on the tenth, but he'll call us back and ask later if we have it. I could've sent him to Nashville if I'd felt like it.
I keep getting an urge to
go get four bagels for $3.41. It's one of the cheapest ways to get full I know, and I don't have to clean up the kitchen afterwards. Not that I would clean up the kitchen anyway, but this way the floor doesn't stick to my feet.
I would comment on something relevant to the rest of the world to the rest of the world, but I'm kinda out of the loop.
Deep Throat has been revealed, but so far that doesn't have any significance to most of us. There are enough current scandals to worry about that I'm ready to forgive Nixon.
I need new dancing shoes, from what I can tell. That or better socks, b/c I abused my feet the other day at the shrine place. Fortunately I was
prepared for such a contingency. I'm so bored.
Sharper Image still hasn't rewarded me for any of the ideas I've submitted, so it's time to send them some more. Seeing as how the
Halfbakery doesn't protect the ideas submitted to it, somebody sooner or later is gonna make money off them. Now I don't think that that's a particularly nice thing to do, but I'm a nice guy, and if anybody is gonna steal someone's idea for profit, it might as well be a nice guy. That way, the money goes to somebody who can use it nicely, and not avaricially. Then again, most of their ideas are worse than mine.
I'm rapidly approaching the deadline to give two weeks' notice before City Stages. Surely there's another job that pays at least this well that I can line up before then. I'm working on an incentive program for the headhunters, maybe something involving a free
cheesecake to the first one who lands me a paying gig.
Oh, yeah, Leslie showed me a great thrift store called the Foundry. I got a new (to me) leather jacket for $15, and a silk shirt for $0.99. Plus the tie I wore to the shriner shindig. I'll find the pictures later; they must've gotten lost between my camera and computer.
I've gotta go to the bank, because somebody in HR still can't wrap his mind around the concept of direct deposit. A check is still money, but it has an implied message of "I really don't want to pay you, but this the closest I could legally come. Have fun at the bank."
