I've been away from the Internet for a while, so I've missed the biggest story since Paris Hilton's sex tape. Turns out Ms. Spear's stubble ridden beaver is plastered all over the net...completely exposed in all it's Cesarean scarred glory.
I could not resist finding a pic and taking a gander because, you know, she IS famous and all. I was disappointed find it looked very similar to others I've seen, except in much poorer condition. Imagine that...we all look the same underneath our money and fame.
My conclusion is there is nothing special about her baby maker, other than the fact that it's life support system is worth billions. That may be true, but it has the same curiosity factor as looking at the air intake of a Ferrari Modena...even parts of a famous machine are topics of discussion.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
An Independant in '08
The pig farming and illegal boxing caucus from Wisconsin nominated Bricktop as their candidate for the next President of the United States in a press release issued yesterday.
At a press conference Bricktop replied, when asked about his stance on the Iraq war:
"If I throw a dog a bone, I don't want to know what it fucking tastes like, and if you interrupt me again whilst I'm walking, I'll cut your Jacobs off."
Members of the opposition could not be found for comment.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
One more thing
Since I have not posted in a while, I'm overdoing it today.
Since Hudson died, most of my friends knew that I was hesitant to do any more hunting. My experience with that dog taught me much about animals and their relationship to us.
As such, the only deer I had harvested since her death was in 2004, and that experience only solidified what I was feeling at the time...I had out-grown hunting.
Just this year I started to take bowhunting serious again, though I was still not planning to gun hunt. Something must have happened along the way, because my lifelong passion for the hunt had begun to return. And even though I have chosen not to shoot yet during this bow season, I once again felt I was up to the responsibility of harvesting an animal for food and sport. It was a major milestone for me since losing my handicapped dog.
When I pulled the trigger on this years buck, I felt the old familiar rush of excitement and achievement that had been long absent. I literally shook for 5 minutes on the stand after the shot...as all my assumed absent feelings welled up inside me and burst out in a fit of "buck fever" the intensity of which I had NEVER experienced. It was better than any drug I've ever had. Period.
It is now clear that I have come to terms with whatever was holding me back from a sport I so dearly loved. If it ever returns, I will not hesitate to quit once again.
Since Hudson died, most of my friends knew that I was hesitant to do any more hunting. My experience with that dog taught me much about animals and their relationship to us.
As such, the only deer I had harvested since her death was in 2004, and that experience only solidified what I was feeling at the time...I had out-grown hunting.
Just this year I started to take bowhunting serious again, though I was still not planning to gun hunt. Something must have happened along the way, because my lifelong passion for the hunt had begun to return. And even though I have chosen not to shoot yet during this bow season, I once again felt I was up to the responsibility of harvesting an animal for food and sport. It was a major milestone for me since losing my handicapped dog.
When I pulled the trigger on this years buck, I felt the old familiar rush of excitement and achievement that had been long absent. I literally shook for 5 minutes on the stand after the shot...as all my assumed absent feelings welled up inside me and burst out in a fit of "buck fever" the intensity of which I had NEVER experienced. It was better than any drug I've ever had. Period.
It is now clear that I have come to terms with whatever was holding me back from a sport I so dearly loved. If it ever returns, I will not hesitate to quit once again.
Hell's Kitchen Tuition
ONE of the POSSIBLE paths to future employment enjoyment for me is becoming a Chef. Not a cook, not a part-time hash slinger...but a bona fide, classically trained Chef.
I absolutely LOVE to create, cook, and serve food. It's one of my hobbies I really enjoy. As part of any rational investigation of this path, I began to inquire about schooling.
Le Cordon Bleu is the place for classic French Culinary training, and with a satellite campus nearby in MN, it seems a logical place to start. After a couple of exchanged voice mails, we finally connected for a conversation in which they were very hesitant to tell me about the costs involved. You can't fool me with talk of "Financial Assistance", "Campus Interviews" and "Earnings Potential"...I need bottom line figures to make sound decisions. Call it a mutation from my business experience. After beating around the bush, I finally had to flat out tell them not to call me again unless they were prepared to discuss costs. With that, she choked it out, and it hit the floor like a dropped dish:
The 15 month Culinary Arts program costs $42,500. That does not include any room and board or travel costs, which would be considerable for me.
WOW! No wonder they don't want to discuss tuition on the phone. I am sure when they breech the subject at the "Campus Interview" they have both financial aid and EMT personnel waiting in the wings for those who don't take it so well.
I absolutely LOVE to create, cook, and serve food. It's one of my hobbies I really enjoy. As part of any rational investigation of this path, I began to inquire about schooling.
Le Cordon Bleu is the place for classic French Culinary training, and with a satellite campus nearby in MN, it seems a logical place to start. After a couple of exchanged voice mails, we finally connected for a conversation in which they were very hesitant to tell me about the costs involved. You can't fool me with talk of "Financial Assistance", "Campus Interviews" and "Earnings Potential"...I need bottom line figures to make sound decisions. Call it a mutation from my business experience. After beating around the bush, I finally had to flat out tell them not to call me again unless they were prepared to discuss costs. With that, she choked it out, and it hit the floor like a dropped dish:
The 15 month Culinary Arts program costs $42,500. That does not include any room and board or travel costs, which would be considerable for me.
WOW! No wonder they don't want to discuss tuition on the phone. I am sure when they breech the subject at the "Campus Interview" they have both financial aid and EMT personnel waiting in the wings for those who don't take it so well.
Thanksgiving Slump
Even though this week is crazy busy with prep for the sale, last week was sort of laid back. The crew cleaning and organizing for the sale were deer hunters, and last week was Wisconsin's 9 day gun deer season. Throw in a holiday...and it made for a lazy week.
For the first time in 10 years I was able to enjoy the entire deer season on any schedule I wanted. It will probably be the last time as well. I stayed at the shack most of the time, even sometimes completely alone. Not that I am scared of the dark or anything...I'm no pansy...but being in the middle of nowhere alone in a shack in the middle of the woods is a little unnerving at first. Think Blair Witch shit and you will get some sort of idea.
On Sunday of the last weekend I managed to get my scope on only the second "shooter" buck I saw all season. I made a miraculous shot (312 yards, thank you very much) and dropped him in his tracks to end my season. J and I cut him up and packaged all the meat, then off to the taxidermy man for a shoulder mount.
I will always remember this deer season because of where I am with my life, but also because it was very nearly the "perfect season". Plenty of time, good weather, great friends and family.
...even if I did leave the TV on all night at the shack to ward off the boogey man when I was alone!
For the first time in 10 years I was able to enjoy the entire deer season on any schedule I wanted. It will probably be the last time as well. I stayed at the shack most of the time, even sometimes completely alone. Not that I am scared of the dark or anything...I'm no pansy...but being in the middle of nowhere alone in a shack in the middle of the woods is a little unnerving at first. Think Blair Witch shit and you will get some sort of idea.
On Sunday of the last weekend I managed to get my scope on only the second "shooter" buck I saw all season. I made a miraculous shot (312 yards, thank you very much) and dropped him in his tracks to end my season. J and I cut him up and packaged all the meat, then off to the taxidermy man for a shoulder mount.
I will always remember this deer season because of where I am with my life, but also because it was very nearly the "perfect season". Plenty of time, good weather, great friends and family.
...even if I did leave the TV on all night at the shack to ward off the boogey man when I was alone!
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Everybody toots
Saturday night we had another wild night of scrabble debate with Tom & Jenny. The intricacies of board games aside, the chili Jenny made was out-of-this-world good. So good, I helped myself to three bowels of the bean-laden gas main.
Imagine my glee when I awoke on Sunday to find an old friend had stopped by for the day...chronic flatulence I call "Toot". I decided to make our day together fun, so right away I called a meeting to plan the days events while I brushed my teeth. My friend was very vocal during this discussion...so much so that I feared my wife would hear he had arrived. Her not liking unannounced house guests and all, I feared for the worst and quickly pinched off the discussion. But Toot had brought his wife...a friend to Jodi...who rudely woke her up. I could hear their discussion heating up. I smelled a fight brewing as they made plans for their day together.
Our first activity was some outside work. Toot, afflicted with a blinding sulfur odor, appreciates the outdoors so as to not draw attention to himself. I have to admit, I appreciate our time outdoors as well, and for exactly the same reason. I dressed for work and went outside only to hear Toot screaming every time I bent over. Coveralls are Toots nemesis, and every man who has similar friends knows why. You see...Toot was trapped. When Toot is trapped he lingers, and lingering is something Toot and I don't like to do together. I shed my coveralls for Toot's sake, and our morning became much more enjoyable. As I worked...he wafted.
That afternoon Toot and I went bowhunting. Now, Toot rarely goes hunting with me, but frequently accompanies me fishing. Toot himself is the first to acknowledge that his presence can scare deer, and today he was capable of removing paint from the walls. So to make him feel more comfortable, I dressed us in Scent Blocker Plus carbon clothing...kind of like Harry Potter's invisible cloak...only for Toot's kind.
I had to test our disguise, so I called out to Toot. No answer. I could have sworn I felt the door open, heard the rush of air as he entered the room, even a faint whisper of his voice; but the tell-tale sign of his presence was nowhere to be smelled. Perfect. Toot could now enjoy bowhunting without ruining it for me. It was a milestone in our friendship.
By the time we got home, I could tell Toot was getting tired. Appearing stale and weak, he could no longer play as many times in an hour as he once could, and I could sense our visit coming to an end. Despite his pleas for an Old Style (his energy drink of choice) to buy some more time, I told Toot he must move on. Sometime during the night, Toot and his wife "Tweet" silently left our house. And although Jodi claims their smell will linger for days, it's a small price to pay for companionship.
It's always nice to have company, but it's nice to see them leave as well. I'll see you again soon Toot. Thursday night is Mexican night...don't be late.
Imagine my glee when I awoke on Sunday to find an old friend had stopped by for the day...chronic flatulence I call "Toot". I decided to make our day together fun, so right away I called a meeting to plan the days events while I brushed my teeth. My friend was very vocal during this discussion...so much so that I feared my wife would hear he had arrived. Her not liking unannounced house guests and all, I feared for the worst and quickly pinched off the discussion. But Toot had brought his wife...a friend to Jodi...who rudely woke her up. I could hear their discussion heating up. I smelled a fight brewing as they made plans for their day together.
Our first activity was some outside work. Toot, afflicted with a blinding sulfur odor, appreciates the outdoors so as to not draw attention to himself. I have to admit, I appreciate our time outdoors as well, and for exactly the same reason. I dressed for work and went outside only to hear Toot screaming every time I bent over. Coveralls are Toots nemesis, and every man who has similar friends knows why. You see...Toot was trapped. When Toot is trapped he lingers, and lingering is something Toot and I don't like to do together. I shed my coveralls for Toot's sake, and our morning became much more enjoyable. As I worked...he wafted.
That afternoon Toot and I went bowhunting. Now, Toot rarely goes hunting with me, but frequently accompanies me fishing. Toot himself is the first to acknowledge that his presence can scare deer, and today he was capable of removing paint from the walls. So to make him feel more comfortable, I dressed us in Scent Blocker Plus carbon clothing...kind of like Harry Potter's invisible cloak...only for Toot's kind.
I had to test our disguise, so I called out to Toot. No answer. I could have sworn I felt the door open, heard the rush of air as he entered the room, even a faint whisper of his voice; but the tell-tale sign of his presence was nowhere to be smelled. Perfect. Toot could now enjoy bowhunting without ruining it for me. It was a milestone in our friendship.
By the time we got home, I could tell Toot was getting tired. Appearing stale and weak, he could no longer play as many times in an hour as he once could, and I could sense our visit coming to an end. Despite his pleas for an Old Style (his energy drink of choice) to buy some more time, I told Toot he must move on. Sometime during the night, Toot and his wife "Tweet" silently left our house. And although Jodi claims their smell will linger for days, it's a small price to pay for companionship.
It's always nice to have company, but it's nice to see them leave as well. I'll see you again soon Toot. Thursday night is Mexican night...don't be late.
Angel of Death
Macy Black Demon (her Native American name) woke me up at 2:39 AM by propping her paws on my face as I lay sleeping. She must have had a lapse in sleep and thought "what the hell, he's getting up in 3 hours anyway. I think I'll just speed it along a bit". I thought of six painful ways for her to die before I reached the front door to let her out.
I couldn't get back to sleep, so I made two poached eggs and some toast while I watched the Military Channel. I watched for 3 hours. It's going to be a damn long day.
I couldn't get back to sleep, so I made two poached eggs and some toast while I watched the Military Channel. I watched for 3 hours. It's going to be a damn long day.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Insert meaningless title here
What a depressing weekend. I took off work Thursday & Friday...wait a minute...Oh yeah right, I'm not employed. Start again please.
Thursday & Friday of last week I decided to do something else, and finished off my bowhunting for the year. I did not get anything, but it was more enjoyable than arguing with lawyers. Joddi and I got together and wasted some time shooting blackpowder rifles and looking for pheasants, but the REAL time waster came when I got home Saturday night.
Cinemax was running a Star Wars marathon all weekend. Episodes I - VI, back to back, and on a permanent loop! Ohhh boy, we're gonna waste some time now! I immediately got hooked and watched until early into the morning. Nevermind I have all of these on DVD. Nevermind I have seen them each 5-6 times. I came from the "original" Star Wars generation...before the advent of DVD and movie channels. You saw the movie in the cinema...and did not get to see it again unless you bought another ticket. Then you waited for years for another installment. They were NEVER on TV, and today's kids have NO idea how much anticipation that system built. Epochs in your life were measured by release dates of the original three episodes.
I felt like a kid again watching all those movies. I watched out of pure spite for all those years George Lucas strung me along as a child. I watched as if seeing my life of 38 years condensed into 14 hours of film.
Thursday & Friday of last week I decided to do something else, and finished off my bowhunting for the year. I did not get anything, but it was more enjoyable than arguing with lawyers. Joddi and I got together and wasted some time shooting blackpowder rifles and looking for pheasants, but the REAL time waster came when I got home Saturday night.
Cinemax was running a Star Wars marathon all weekend. Episodes I - VI, back to back, and on a permanent loop! Ohhh boy, we're gonna waste some time now! I immediately got hooked and watched until early into the morning. Nevermind I have all of these on DVD. Nevermind I have seen them each 5-6 times. I came from the "original" Star Wars generation...before the advent of DVD and movie channels. You saw the movie in the cinema...and did not get to see it again unless you bought another ticket. Then you waited for years for another installment. They were NEVER on TV, and today's kids have NO idea how much anticipation that system built. Epochs in your life were measured by release dates of the original three episodes.
I felt like a kid again watching all those movies. I watched out of pure spite for all those years George Lucas strung me along as a child. I watched as if seeing my life of 38 years condensed into 14 hours of film.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Put me in Coach
I seem to be getting a new summons about every other day. Not that I don't understand why people want to sue me...I do...it's just that being sued is complete anathema to my personality. I've always been an honest and upfront guy. Litigation is for crooks and thieves.
Ironically, being the most upstanding and honest of Humans does not make you immune from being on someones shit list. I've never sued anyone even though I could and should have many times. I guess this makes me stupid. When some of my debtors over the years have filed bankruptcy on ME, and left me with nothing to show for bills as large as $40,000, I had to step back and ask myself who really was to blame. It is the nature of business to consume every thing it can, even when you try to prevent it. The whirling black hole of corporate finance knows no self restraint...it never questions it's own feeding habits...it just consumes as long as there is an available food source. My experiences on both sides of the food chain have taught me the frenzy intensifies when food sources are limited.
Credit limits, while never arbitrary, are nonetheless voluntary. IF I LET an entity feed unrestricted, it will. So who is to blame when there is nothing to pay the bill for the feast? Is it the provider or the consumer? It is almost always a case of absent resources rather than malicious intent that provokes these Corporate banquets, but it is always cooperative ignorance that allows them to continue. Guilty as charged on BOTH counts.
Looking back on all those thousands of dollars the bankruptcy system turned away from me, I tend to favor blaming myself. In those cases I allowed the feeding to continue, blinded by the revenue in the computer, and ignorant of cash in hand. It was "my bad" for the most part, as those bellying to the table were themselves driven by an opportunistic and insatiable Corporate appetite. I enabled through complicity, knowing I was victim long before it was official.
So it is with my current reversal from Creditor to Debtor. I've played compliant victim, now I am apparently malicious perpetrator. The "cycle" is complete, and those manning helms as today's latest carrion can only look forward to enjoying the reversal when their time comes to feed for free. Playing the game guarantees it's survival...and also your turn on offense.
Ironically, being the most upstanding and honest of Humans does not make you immune from being on someones shit list. I've never sued anyone even though I could and should have many times. I guess this makes me stupid. When some of my debtors over the years have filed bankruptcy on ME, and left me with nothing to show for bills as large as $40,000, I had to step back and ask myself who really was to blame. It is the nature of business to consume every thing it can, even when you try to prevent it. The whirling black hole of corporate finance knows no self restraint...it never questions it's own feeding habits...it just consumes as long as there is an available food source. My experiences on both sides of the food chain have taught me the frenzy intensifies when food sources are limited.
Credit limits, while never arbitrary, are nonetheless voluntary. IF I LET an entity feed unrestricted, it will. So who is to blame when there is nothing to pay the bill for the feast? Is it the provider or the consumer? It is almost always a case of absent resources rather than malicious intent that provokes these Corporate banquets, but it is always cooperative ignorance that allows them to continue. Guilty as charged on BOTH counts.
Looking back on all those thousands of dollars the bankruptcy system turned away from me, I tend to favor blaming myself. In those cases I allowed the feeding to continue, blinded by the revenue in the computer, and ignorant of cash in hand. It was "my bad" for the most part, as those bellying to the table were themselves driven by an opportunistic and insatiable Corporate appetite. I enabled through complicity, knowing I was victim long before it was official.
So it is with my current reversal from Creditor to Debtor. I've played compliant victim, now I am apparently malicious perpetrator. The "cycle" is complete, and those manning helms as today's latest carrion can only look forward to enjoying the reversal when their time comes to feed for free. Playing the game guarantees it's survival...and also your turn on offense.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
I've become my Dad!
As I sort through a 10,000 sq foot building housing 79 years of debris, I find myself reluctant to dispose of things that are clearly junk. I've become Bob...the consummate pack rat. My father Bob will absolutely NOT dispose of anything...even if the only value left in it is the particles of matter waiting to be recycled by the cosmos. It's still worth something to him. Bob's affliction is partly a result of the times in which he was raised, but mostly it's a genetic family trait thought to be recessive and tending to skip every other generation...until now.
I look at the sheer volume of things slated for disposal and think I am throwing away money based on the volume of junk alone. I mean, in a pile this big, someone should be able to scrounge a couple bucks from somewhere, right? Of course, I know I am wrong. Nobody except a sub-Saharan tribesman would use the computer stuff we are tossing, and they would probably use it to carry water to their families. Old manuals for software (many dating back to the DOS era), hundreds of old disks, obsolete BNC routers, broken monitors, switches, mice and keyboards...you know...Ejunk. But stack all this crap into ONE PLACE, and you begin thinking you should start a store. In my office, I sort have done just that, as I find myself spiriting away junk to accumulate based on the premise that it has intrinsic value if none financially.
I have 52...yes 52 stray IEC power cords for computers and misc related gizmos. 24 stray "wall wart" power supplies that the gods of computer trash only know where the poor, unpowered device it mated with is lurking. I have dozens of parallel cables, slightly fewer serial, and 1 lonesome USB without a machine. Don't even mention the cardboard box of just phone cords. Must be hundreds. My God, did they EVER throw anything away here in the 60 years prior to me? But this shit is on the SHELVES in the local Wal-Mart. Whaddya mean it's junk?
Remember the hereditary affliction Bob's syndrome? This was a family business, you can guess the answer to that one.
I look at the sheer volume of things slated for disposal and think I am throwing away money based on the volume of junk alone. I mean, in a pile this big, someone should be able to scrounge a couple bucks from somewhere, right? Of course, I know I am wrong. Nobody except a sub-Saharan tribesman would use the computer stuff we are tossing, and they would probably use it to carry water to their families. Old manuals for software (many dating back to the DOS era), hundreds of old disks, obsolete BNC routers, broken monitors, switches, mice and keyboards...you know...Ejunk. But stack all this crap into ONE PLACE, and you begin thinking you should start a store. In my office, I sort have done just that, as I find myself spiriting away junk to accumulate based on the premise that it has intrinsic value if none financially.
I have 52...yes 52 stray IEC power cords for computers and misc related gizmos. 24 stray "wall wart" power supplies that the gods of computer trash only know where the poor, unpowered device it mated with is lurking. I have dozens of parallel cables, slightly fewer serial, and 1 lonesome USB without a machine. Don't even mention the cardboard box of just phone cords. Must be hundreds. My God, did they EVER throw anything away here in the 60 years prior to me? But this shit is on the SHELVES in the local Wal-Mart. Whaddya mean it's junk?
Remember the hereditary affliction Bob's syndrome? This was a family business, you can guess the answer to that one.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Pheasant frenzy!
The results of the pheasant hunt at Forest Ridge would NOT tell you I was the class B sporting clays champ. I think I missed the first 5 roosters I drew a bead on!
I took out my trusty Stoeger Uplander Supreme grouse gun for the day...and it proved anything but trusty. Apparently, highpower payloads this gun does NOT like. I would shoot one barrel, then the other would not fire on the inevitable follow-up shot after my miss. Never had that happen with much lighter partridge loads in this piece.
The Uplander is never hunting pheasant again, or anything else requiring a high-brass, max dram payload for that matter. I don't care how light and easy to carry it is. At least I could blame my gun for the escaping birds.
18 hunters bagged around 65 pheasants for the day. It was a far cry from the 90 birds we bought and were released into the 400 acres, but enough to get 4 or 5 birds per person for the freezer. John's lab Chyna was in rare form again, accounting for nearly all the flushes in our group of 6 hunters. She was incredible, finding and flushing 29 of the 30 birds released into our 95 acre field. Now if only the shooters had done their part that well! Anyway, the food and the company were great. I walked enough to easily get into the guiness book of records for distance traveled by a hominid, but it was good for me.
I took out my trusty Stoeger Uplander Supreme grouse gun for the day...and it proved anything but trusty. Apparently, highpower payloads this gun does NOT like. I would shoot one barrel, then the other would not fire on the inevitable follow-up shot after my miss. Never had that happen with much lighter partridge loads in this piece.
The Uplander is never hunting pheasant again, or anything else requiring a high-brass, max dram payload for that matter. I don't care how light and easy to carry it is. At least I could blame my gun for the escaping birds.
18 hunters bagged around 65 pheasants for the day. It was a far cry from the 90 birds we bought and were released into the 400 acres, but enough to get 4 or 5 birds per person for the freezer. John's lab Chyna was in rare form again, accounting for nearly all the flushes in our group of 6 hunters. She was incredible, finding and flushing 29 of the 30 birds released into our 95 acre field. Now if only the shooters had done their part that well! Anyway, the food and the company were great. I walked enough to easily get into the guiness book of records for distance traveled by a hominid, but it was good for me.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Help me Matt Foley!
Well here it is already November 1st. Man how time flies when you are being tortured. A couple of months ago John K. asked me to a pheasant hunt on November 4th. For $80 a person we could reserve the Forest Ridge Hunt Club for a day, have a nice steak dinner, and enjoy the company of about 20 of our closest friends.
Who knew the shit storm was right around the corner?
Little did I know at the time I accepted that I would be up to my rectum in this whole mess. Thing is, right now I REALLY need to go do things like this. Even though I shouldn't, I'm going to take the time off and have some fun to keep my sanity. Saturday should be a great day.
I am still no closer to having any idea what to do with the rest of my life, and that's a nagging pain always in the back of my mind. If I was the consummate multi-tasker I could accomplish lawsuits, closing a business, having an auction, and being overwhelmed with tasks that have deadlines all at the same time as I reflect on my future aspirations and ponder my true course in life.
Yeah right...and pigs will someday fly from my ass. Until then chaos reigns supreme, with sometimes a barely coherent thought of the future in the moments before sleep consumes my exhausted mind. Going out of business is hard work. I'm ready for the "going" to become "gone", if for no other reason than to free my mind to think of other things.
Who knew the shit storm was right around the corner?
Little did I know at the time I accepted that I would be up to my rectum in this whole mess. Thing is, right now I REALLY need to go do things like this. Even though I shouldn't, I'm going to take the time off and have some fun to keep my sanity. Saturday should be a great day.
I am still no closer to having any idea what to do with the rest of my life, and that's a nagging pain always in the back of my mind. If I was the consummate multi-tasker I could accomplish lawsuits, closing a business, having an auction, and being overwhelmed with tasks that have deadlines all at the same time as I reflect on my future aspirations and ponder my true course in life.
Yeah right...and pigs will someday fly from my ass. Until then chaos reigns supreme, with sometimes a barely coherent thought of the future in the moments before sleep consumes my exhausted mind. Going out of business is hard work. I'm ready for the "going" to become "gone", if for no other reason than to free my mind to think of other things.
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