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Tiki Nacho Revelation

I had to get out of the apartment. 15 of Sears’ Finest/SOs crowded into the living room to feast upon taquitos, chips, dip and dreamcicles and watch the British Guy get beaten up by Mayweather. I peeked in around Round 5 to see blood and guts pouring from the British Guy’s eyes in all 60″ HD glory.

Luckily Hansley happened to also be getting his Holiday Party on. I busted into that joint and was pleased to find the appetizer quality greatly enhanced now that Woman is on the scene. Xomb found me and we talked for a long while as we usually do about this, that and Xomb’s obsess with R. Zombie. But Xomb was pretty blitzed, meandering through desert junior college, air conditioning-heating, Free Mason symbology and his desires to make a horror-short. Horrible thoughts of superiority danced in my head. (Even though I know if I were eight years younger, I would so be into that kid.)

I found G and her leprechaun therapist to the criminally insane BF and chatted with them for much longer than I should have. Do you ever have the feeling that people are going to be talking about you behind your back and say, “What was WITH that person?” Which is weird because of my otherwise keep-to-myselfness. But I don’t know. I like G and her leprechaun therapist to the criminally insane BF. Did I seem too desperate?

Then again, they did offer me a spot on their sports team even though I claimed (truthfully) horrible hand-eye coordination and an unhealthy interest in the snack bar menus at sporting events. G even offered to send jobs my way. Upon which I found myself saying that I was not interested in production or post-type work. What is wrong with me? A few years ago I would have thanked my lucky stars to be in a position where jobs were ripe for my picking.

I don’t know. There’s something about the phrase EXECUTIVE PRODUCER that now makes me physically nauseous and mentally starved, Especially in the “reality” based arena. I can’t imagine a bigger waste of time. I know I’m running on fumes financially and the ship has almost completely sunk but I still can’t just DO something that I imagine will be an insignificant contribution to the big picture.

I suppose there’s many ways to spin that so it doesn’t seem so self-righteous. And then there’s this… the lowest of the low levels of post is the transcribing and logging that I do now. The reason why I don’t mind it is because I don’t need to care about what I do. I only need to meet the deadline with reasonable accuracy. I guess it’s kind of a backwards approach to be searching for an interesting job that has absolutely nothing to do with anything you remotely care about.

The end picture, of course, is to be self-sufficient by meaningful means. And believe you me, the cogs are in the works. (Did I butcher that idiom?) The tricky thing is devoting my powers to making that happen while simultaneously maintaining a livable wage. And by livable I mean relatively low maintenance.

If I could live out of my car and have the trunk fold out into a nice bed, that would totally be cool with me. Of course I’m assuming that I’d have really straight hair that wouldn’t need a lot of attending to.

Things with which to live:

  • Notebook
  • Mechanical Pencil
  • Ballpoint Pen
  • Colored Pencils
  • Laptop Computer
  • HD Camcorder
  • I-Pod
  • Camera
  • Cell phone
  • Bar of Soap
  • Socks and basic clothes
  • Flashlight
  • Mess Kit
  • Purse and/or wallet
  • Mosaic Supplies
  • Sleeping Bag
  • Food / Fresh Water source

I suppose the list above also assumes I have a roof over my head.

This blog has been brought to you by Tiki Punch and Nacho Cheese Doritos.


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