So it’s not Wednesday. It feels like it: I’ve already blown through half my work hours allowed for the week at the Daily Dot and a fat lot of good it did me so it’s time for a little break.
Welcome to Honorary Hump Day.
Here’s a great video from our old friend Mark Day, who made a lightning visit to Burning Man (not that we’re jellus) and is now looking more Californian than we’ve ever seen him. Congratulations, you’ve made a nearly full recovery from your Hebridean upbringing. Stay till the end for bonus AWWWWWW.
When first one begins to make new life choices, there is only one place for an intrepid change-maker to start: self-analysis. And for quality self-analysis, I always turn to internet quizzes.
You tend to be very obsessive. Once you focus your attention on something or someone, it’s all you think about.You are also very secretive. People don’t know much about the life that you lead.
You are attracted to weak people. You may want to prey on them, but you also may just want to help them.You need attention, and you can get desperate if you aren’t getting attention from the right person. You’ll do about anything to get noticed.
Check, check, check, and CHECK. That’s the hard part over with.
Next stop: the wardrobe department! As you can see from the GPOY at the top of the post, that’s all taken care of.
Sadly, the bottom has dropped out of the formerly-lucrative blackmail market. In a world currently enduring its sixth season of Jersey Shore, there is no market for shame whatsoever.
This leaves me with the unanswered critical question: how in hell do I make a living from this particular assortment of talents? I hate the thought of going into politics!
Welcome to Sunday. Sunday is, quite obviously, the most important day of the week.
It is the day the restaurants close.
In an age of over-adequate labour supplies and chefs, sous chefs, and assistant-sub-sous chefs, there can, of course, be only one reason for EVERY FUCKING RESTAURANT I WANT TO GO TO being closed on a Sunday. TWICE IN A ROW.
Everyone on staff has gone off to worship.
Cthulhu worship
For those of you picturing neat rows of Episcopalian pews filled with shiny, freshly-scrubbed food and beverage staffer faces, allow me to shatter your dreams now. Think back to the last time you were at a good restaurant. The bartender, the waitstaff, the chef, the buspersons…did they look familiar from church? Did they even look like the type of person who goes to your church? I think not. I very much think not.
Yet, Sunday closures. Therefore, they must be Cthulhu worshipppers. It’s the only logical conclusion. When everything impossible has been eliminated whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth, and you KNOW those people don’t show up at your church, now do they? So does it really matter what flavour of damnation they choose, whether it’s Lutheranism or SisterWifeism or Whateverism? No. But restaurant staffers, if they’re clever, know exactly how to play the angles. They know how to pick a winner and glom on to him like there’s no tomorrow, which is why Gordon Ramsay’s busboy is the same as he was twenty years ago, only with more scars.
Hence, Cthulhuism.
Cthulhu Worship for doubters
Now there’s a religion that pays out for your investment. The stars are going to align almost any day now and when they do, acolytes of the Cult of Cthulhu such as myself and all non-fast-food restaurant staffers are going to be on the top of the world, along with loathesome, towering monstrosities of which you’ve never dreamed in your worst nightmares. If you really, truly doubt that Cthulhuism has infiltrated, influenced, and irrevocably changed mainstream culture, listen up: has there not been a VAST increase in the number of women insisting on being eaten first?
What can I say? Between travelling to Ruralopolis again for a mini-working-vacation and writing up the Julian Assange Follies (or should that be the UK Foreign Office Follies?) for the Daily Dot, all overnight, I can’t say I’m well-rested.
Which is too bad, because apparently I have a wedding to plan. See you all on a nice, secluded beach in Ecuador soon. We’re registered at Jane’s Defence Weekly; we want matching night vision goggles. Can’t think what for…
As a human being I can’t fly like a Dove,but my unspoken,mesmerizing memories can fly around this Universe….and in this way I can fly with the support of my Wings of Memories…
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