Oh dear. Alas I find myself the victim of a classic 'life' cliche. Life's like a box of chocolates, it's the thought that counts, yada yada yada... The other day I went for a long walk. On my own. On this walk I thought about stuff, and made decisions about stuff. Just 2 decisions. Which, is more than enough decisions for one walk. Still, I'm sticking to them and have starting implementing them slowing, but surely, this week. So to clear up the metaphor - "The decision is like the stone that caused the ripples of 'cool things' to flow through my week." said the Dalai Lama. "Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions. "He also said "The purpose of our lives is to be happy and to get to the Woolies sale really early, when the doors open. "
Dalai Lama - Proud supporter of the Fluffy Bunny Organisation.
Making the decision was the hard part. The rest feels kind of easy at this stage. I feel another metaphor coming on - "Deciding upon the destination is the tricky part, might as well enjoy the journey." James Earl Jones said to me. "Stick to the path you have chosen, or you might get lost. Which would suck balls hectically." He also said.
James Earl Jones - Proud supporter of the Fluffy Bunny Organisation.
James also said: "When I'm feeling down, I like to say - This is the world of CNN - to myself, and read fluffy bunnies. I just love it."
At a boozy girls lunch on Saturday, a girlfriend of mine who bartender's at Tiger, Tiger (did some tard with a stutter name that place?) She claims that bartending is seriously hard work, way harder than my job, that she deals with far more assholes than I do and keeps her cool. Them is fighting words. Advertising isn't what it was in the 80's (far less cocaine and company lunches), but it sure ain't a freakin picnic! There are assholes swinging from the rooftops, ego's the size of the everest and plenty a tard in this here swine flu infected building! (Maybe a bit of exaggerating for dramatic effect, but I was well tipsy at this stage.)
Bet : Said friend will get said Advertising wench a shift at said night club establishment, probably this Saturday. If I don't loose my cool with alleged assholes and make more tips than said friend. I win.
I intended to practice pouring drinks at home for the Captain this week and may consider some fake tan (Uniforms on the skimpy side.) as preparation.
But back down! NEVER!
Like Braveheart, without blue face paint, I charge into the carpeted, puke drying on the walls pit of assholes.