"When I found out about blue angel farts I ate beans until I farted"
True story. It didn't work though, not enough power. I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew that.
Last week I was in a really good mood because I felt a creative surge and I finally got back into alfredo sauce. Then at the end of the week I was applying for these jobs and if you've ever used workopolis.com, you may know the frustration I felt. I made my resume real nice and perfected my cover letter and then when I uploaded the darn thing (resume) it screwed up all my formatting and it ended up looking like utter bull trash. I tried and tried to fix it amidst several couch punches then finally gave up and applied anyway. So if the big wigs down at "Job X" see my resume and are like "this guy's resume is childish" then "workopolis" (the worst city in the world) is to blame.
So on Friday I was at Toby's Famous Eatery for a co-worker's send-off and the plan was to have a few gold fizzies then head to nearby Sneaky Dee's for our friend's CD release party. But the line was too long so we stayed at the Tobe-miester's and talked about Cool Whip ads.
"Now it's a dream"
That shit is made of oil and sugar.
The rest of the weekend was spend on NHL fantasy drafts and general sitting around. AND I did some homework. I think I have this first assignment by the balls. I had to go to an art store to buy some bristol board for this thing and man, I'm out of my element in those places. Put me in a music, sports, book, toy or thrift store and I'm the Pedro Marinez of consumers. Put me in an art or fashion store and I'm a regular Oil Can Boyd.
I don't what or where anything is and I always have this fear that someone in the store will be like "let's have an art jam" and I'll be like "uh okay" and then they'll find out I can't draw at all and that I have no business being in such a store, confirming their suspicions.
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