New Job

A lot of people don't know what it is I did for a living. In order to feed myself and keep my flat, I must work. And work I did. Basically, if I broke down what I did in the simplest form ever, I used to tell people how to spend their money. Yes, I was an investment broker of sorts. It sounds so fancy. But it was a living hell. Working with people is one thing, dealing with their money and advising them on what to do with it goes beyond terrible.

That said, all through college, I worked at a coffee shop. I kept the job on weekends and the odd evening for the shit of it. Really, I enjoyed the kids i worked with and didn't mind smelling of coffee beans all the time. Not to mention, people always seemed appreciative when you handed them the hot piping cup of caffeine. Some days, I felt almost godly.

Well, as it turns out, I was ranting to my boss at the coffee shop about how soul sucking the investment banking scheme was and she insisted I apply at this tiny, hole in the wall pub near the coffee shop who was looking for a hostess with the mostest. As it turns out, she dated the bloke who owned the joint and put in a good word.

Then I got to thinking, perhaps this is what social networking is all about. Connections and such. I have a long way to go before I figure out this internet business.

I make less money waiting tables, but I'm a lot happier.

Sometimes you have to make a change, even if it means cutting back and not having the fancy bottle of wine and boxing it instead.

Cheers to the new job!

Where Have I Been?

Let me start this long story out with my realisation that Facebook is not for me. I know it sounds ridiculous. A social networking site where millions upon millions of hapless souls log in everyday to share what they’re noshing on and what abhorrent thing happened to them on their way to the office. And it isn’t for me? Shocked me too. As we all know, I adore eating and complaining.

With the plain truth to the side, I must admit, it was the impersonal aspect of the whole kit and caboodle that drove me away. In the end, I found myself cross-legged on my bed, clad only in a Twisted Sister t-shirt, hair unkempt and greasy, wondering where is the social aspect to this social networking thing?

I felt as though I was speaking into a spinning vortex of absolute nothingness, with only my best chum answering back. And I could do that with my mobile. No social media needed at all. Surprising, right?

Then, I got a pep talk from a couple Pankhearst girls. Actually, they insisted I swiftly removed my head from my arse and get back to the world wide web. Not because they missed me, but because I promised to help them with this project they plan on publishing. You know, stories about cars and girls, or scars and curls.

And as this take goes, just as I was about to sign in for the first time in months, literally the very day, I got in a hit and run. After making a pancake of this elderly woman, I simply drove off. Alright, that was a fib. What happened was much less glamorous. A teenager on a scooter hit me. I didn’t die, but I did break my left wrist, the one I use the most.

Hunting about and pecking for words on a keyboard did not appeal in the least.

So, I watched a mountain of movies, listened to a mishmash of music, and healed. Honest, it’s still a bit tender, but here I am, making my grand return. At least I have a hundred and sixty-two movies to write about. And so I commence, tossing garbage into the spinning vortex of nothingness.