Still alive, promise

HOLY shit a lot has happened since I wrote last, in many of the fields I purport to care about. We know who's going to be in the Super Bowl (the wrong Manning and the hot Brady (he is hot, right ladies? Or am I not good at judging the attractiveness of my own gender (also, Harry Connick, Jr. is dee are ee ay em why))), we have had all sorts of primaries (we've figured out how the Democrats will lose the election - run Hillary against McCain, and we will be in the Middle East until half past forever), I've bought all sorts of music (the new(ish) Panda Bear album is so so good...it's like Brian Wilson on crack), and I've been drunk all sorts of times (the fact that you can get a handle of vodka at any grocery store for only ten bucks still is one of God's little miracles). Also, I've slept a lot. Though not last night, which is another story for another day for another blog (such a gross word) that deals with relationships falling apart. So onward.

I've not been writing because my work, my tie-wearing, desk-sitting, Excel-using, multi phoneline-having work, has reached the level of Utter Ridiculousness. That point where you're working so hard, for so many hours, for something so useless, and for so little money, you kinda wonder why you're still there, and then you remember rent's due by the fourth.

But when one of the directors of the company questions why you keep coming in every day, maybe you ought to jump ship.

(Every "you" in that last little rant was actually "me." I don't know where you work. Or who any of the directors are. Or their thoughts on your position. I'm not that presumptuous.)

In other news, hey, have you tried that mozzarella they're selling at that Costco near my office yet? Fucking delicious. I suggest it with tomatoes, basil, finely ground salt, coarse pepper, and olive oil. Yes, I know that's just a caprese salad. But I figured you could use a little culture today.

See what I did there? It was a really subtle dairy joke (what with the culture), AND a really subtle callback to me not being presumptuous by presuming your cultural knowledge! Fuck. I should write for Steven Wright or something.