Hi, Remember Me?

Well, I did it. I finally got my mother off my back and got back on the horse.

The work horse, that is.

This time, however, I've gone from 'Sales Zealot' to 'Burger Warrior'. Ah yes, the grunt of the Common Commercialist Army. The disposable, the greasy: the fastfood grillboy. In fact, I was so perfect for the job, they phoned back the same day as the interview (today). I am to report to work tomorrow, fresh and early at 9 AM. The order of the day, learn the classic "bump and curl". If you don't know what that is, I'm not going to tell you. It's a major hint as to what fast food joint I'm working at, and if you can guess, I'll airmail you one of their burgers.

As for everything else in my life, well, meh. I got my christmas shopping done today (and under my 30 dollar budget-- 40 if it had not been for a Classic Double from Wendy's). I come to loathe this bastardized commercialist holiday representing a conjured up fictional event more and more every year. Pretty soon, the legend will go that only the good little boys and girls who spent atleast 100 dollars at their favorite department store will get visited by santa-- and if they're especially good, they'll get extra Club-Z points.

As for New Years, I look apon this year's festivities with anticipation. Any christmas proceeds will go directly to the "Get Andrew Good and Hammered Fund", where Andrew will go to the Cambie in Nanaimo with his friends, buy pitcher after pitcher of those most vile, alcoholic stuff he can afford, and get shit faced while listening to some hardcore thrashing punk music. And then there will be much rejoicing.

No doubt my new job will require me to work on New Years Day... you know it's gonna happen. Well, I'll go to work, but I'll make sure I'm good and hung over first. You know... to teach myself a lesson. Yeah. That'll work.

Anyway, off to bed... off to bed. Commercial Assimilation awaits.
Andrew.