Still waiting to hear from the driving job. Me, and only me, would think a company would call back on a Saturday. I am slightly impatient; waiting has never been my strong suit. I have a 48-hour threshold for almost everything - the 48-hour rule - and then I'm done. I don't remember names or places or conversations after that. And that has led to some embarrassing moments, Let me tell you. Like that one time...lets just say that names are really "important" to some people.
One name I won't forget now is Gaye Delorme. I got to meet him on Friday. I, of course, did not know who he was and just assumed he was an unemployed schmo like myself, sitting around day-drinking. I told him stories. Lots of stories. There's a good chance that I might be a character in the next Cheech and Chong. So, I'm going to say this now before the next show or movie - it's lies, all lies...
It's funny when you start telling stories about your life and realize that, well, it has been an interesting existence to-date. I only sometimes wish I could have done things "normally", but then there would never be any stories to tell. I'd bore the crap out of myself if I was "normal". I guess I just wish that I could step into the shoes of the cookie cutter for a day and talk about the perfect hemi or perfect house I just bought with my perfect husband. You get to hear the cookie cutter stories in the changeroom at the gym in the mornings because they don't actually have jobs to go to, either. Is this what guys really want?
Ah, who am I kidding, I'd never be able to be perfect. That perfect house would be pretty lonely when your perfect husband is off bonking a waitress. And I'd just take that perfect hemi and collect bottles with it. I'd be the envy of all my hobo friends, though. Some things aren't worth giving up, even for a day.
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