So I hung out with Niebaum, this accountant dude named Los who is way too cool to be an actual accountant, and Stef on Friday night and my brain starting working again in the way that I like that I didn't know I liked so much when it worked that way all the time. I need to spend more time with people who say things like, "Fuck it. That's the way I chew."
Turns out saving the world isn't much fun. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who's surprised that I've come to that conclusion. I'm gonna blame Catholic school for this one. I guess I never got over wanting to be saintly. I know, it's not like I've got much inherent piety to start with, but at least I'm recognizing my limitations at long last. I don't think I can acquire saintliness. Acquiring saintliness is an oxymoron anyway. Duh. You'd think I would have noticed that sooner. Apparently, I'm a little stupid. In any case, I give myself credit for trying something so far out of my skill set that it's a wonder I haven't accidentally given someone the wrong baby.
I bet you've all been waiting for my story about giving someone the wrong baby. You think you're pretty funny, don't you, smart guy? Well, I don't even touch the babies if I can help it. They tend to cry whenever I'm in the nursery anyway. They're like wild dogs. They can sense my unease.
Obviously, my plan could use some work; like, I should get one.
Rather than formulating a plan, let's talk about my new boyfriend. He brings me beers while I'm writing. It's pretty cool how he's going to make me pay for them so he can get my autograph without having to ask for it. It's very serious. If my phone weren't dead from leaving it The Dubliner all weekend, I'd leave it here so I could call him and giggle and have to come back for it. He's got a decent handshake and I like how he says my name. He's not even a foreigner.
On any given Monday, anything can happen.
