Day 16: Bacon Nation

After 7 days on a cruise ship and taking part in the hot activities (buffet, shuffleboard...Friends of Bill not so popular, I don't think Bill was giving out bacon), I've come to the realization that the world can be negotiated with bacon. Everyone loves bacon, even when they say they don't. crumbled over salad. Slipped into a sandwich. Heaved onto a plate of eggs and toast. Wrapped around beef and seafood. Breakfast lunch and dinner. Bacon bacon bacon. It is the single most important reason people don't live on deserted islands. No bacon. Hunting down a wild boar is not the same as the prepackaged kind loaded with salt and chemicals. It's the chemicals that taste so good. I say load on the chemicals. Yum. Places like the stock exchange would be happy places if everyone had bacon, "I lost alot of bacon today but, well, hey, it's only bacon." or "I made alot of bacon today, I'm going to open up a sandwich shop." The pigs not so happy. They prefer cheese. I forget what my point was. I don't think I had one. I just wanted to talk about bacon.

As for the jobhunt, I've decided that I'm going to be a truck driver. I hear they are hiring in the Congo. Oh, and Kabul. I'd take Kabul over the Congo, though. Kabul apparently has a Tim Hortons. That's if CSIS turns me down. There is a good chance that they will, checking a door 20 times to make sure it's locked is not such a handy skill in, say, a time sensitive extraction in Columbia. However, I'm certain it is a marketable skill, I'm just not sure how yet. As for Ballerina idea, NIXED, I ate at a buffet all week, and, well, I liked it.

People are like, "Joanne, are you really being reasonable with your jobhunting?" and I'm like, "Do I have to be?". I mean, I'm unemployed. According to society, there is something WRONG with me. And I'm okay with that. People have no expectations of me and they are just happy I can feed myself and that I don't set things on fire. I've recently stopped talking to myself (this morning), but I don't plan on being "normal" (according to North American social norms "I've got a Mercedes" and a "cappucino maker" and I "drive 3 hours to work everyday" and "I max out my Visa on plastic surgery to make up for the fact I'm stressed out 24 hours a day and squint to flush the toilet") anytime soon. There are too many side effects for the drugs. I find it hard to walk with blood clots in my legs. If I were back in Mexico, I'd sit on the side of the road drinking excessively next to a speed bump and collect car parts. That was actually quite profitable on the right stretch of highway. I had fun with that. If I went back to Taiwan, I'd go to kareoke (how do you spell that? Argh...) every night and become a kareoke star and wear pink dresses with mint green polkadots. So yes, being a truck driver in Kabul would be shooting for the stars for me.

But really though, are people even honest in our culture? We are brainwashed into thinking we have to keep up with the Jones'. I'm unemployed, I have no chance in hell. Might as well make a party out of it. I am unemployed. Everyone, stand up with me and say, "I spent Sunday night scooping recyclables and fighting with the homeless dude for bottle territory" and "I washed my car so the new duct tape installation would hold" and "I refuse to change my shirt because it's the only one left without holes" and "I refuse to put pants on when the pizza delivery person shows up" and "My wife has bad hair" and "My husband eats too many french fries" and "my girlfriend is a lush and she scares me" and "my boyfriend might have a drug problem but I can't prove anything and he's weird". There, was that so bad? Oh, and "I like bacon."