By the time you read this I will be playing Beatles Rock Band with my parents, an experience which I admit was a large reason of why I bought the game. Of course I am actually typing this some seventeen hours prior, so what I’m actually doing right now is checking my moogle mail in Dissidia and contemplating whether or not I have the funds to pick up the next few Discworld books and some cheap PSP games off Amazon. (“Not this week,” says the mean little voice in my head. He’s probably right, but you know, fuck that guy.)
The new job is going swimmingly. It’s not particularly demanding work, just your typical call center stuff, and after this week I’ll likely be done with it and will have moved on to whatever odd jobs a call center needs done for the poor sap who gets stuck with (i.e.: specifically requests) the overnight shift. Then my life will settle back into its nice, comfy quasi-nocturnal rut and all will be right with the world.
People tell me the Peemeister stuff is the best stuff on my site, and flipping through my archives I’d say I have to agree with them. It’s a little disheartening to think I won’t be adding any more. I wish I had committed myself to this frequent update schedule back ’round 2005 when I was in the prime of my Peemeistering years, because I feel like my fuzzy memory is holding on to a lot of stories that I never got around to writing about for reasons like “it is grey outside today” or “Subway ran out of bacon” or “it is Thursday”. Now that writing is part of my daily routine (seriously, the reason I’m awake right now typing this is because my head would not let me sleep until I got up and took care of it) I’ve got this mercifully stress-free but nonetheless boring job that doesn’t make for interesting stories. Hindsight, 20/20, etc.
I did talk to a guy today who asked if they’d have to take his heart out of his stomach to do an EKG on it, and I told him no, that’s probably not how it was done. I don’t know how his heart ended up in his stomach anyway. That’s not where those go, right?