MacDuff Mortified

I know last entry, I kind of let myself off the hook by saying,
“nothing noteworthy has happened.”  While that may be true, I also
distinctly remember an entry I made 4 or so years ago (holy shizzle 4
years ago?!?!) wherein I resolved to write more about feelings and
opinions rather than goings-on.  It’s about time I listened to
myself better…

And that doesn’t just apply to xanga, I guess.  I’ll do it next time.

This is section contains the boring part.  Skip it.

Anyway… I am once again jobless.  Yes, I’ve quit my job
again.  Well, this situation was a bit more pressing than last, at
least that’s what I tell myself.  Basically, I had used up all my
sick time within the span of 6 months, and that was unacceptable
according to company policy.  So, about 4 weeks ago, my manager
pulled me into a “coaching,” which is corporate-speak for “You’re in
fuckin trouble.” Anyway, during the coaching, he told me that it was my
last chance to shape up.  One more absence or even if I was
late… and I’d be outta there.

So, fast-forward to March 3, 2006: Room to Improv’s first friday
show.  Good show, btw.  I know it seems I always say this,
but y’all missed out. Haha.  Anyway, I wear these pants that have
a hole in the right leg pocket.  I, in my infinite knowledge and
wisdom decide to put my phone in that pocket.  Well, not really
decide, but it kinda just happens cuz I’m not really concentrating on
my phone… I had a show in 5 minutes dammit.  Skipping to the
point, phone falls out stated hole-in-pocket and ends up on the theatre
floor.  I don’t notice my phone-less state until we’re back in Costa Mesa.

Interjection. 03/03/03, aka 03^3.  I can’t believe it’s already been three years.  Why must it pass so fast?

Back to the lecture at hand: So i’m phoneless… which means I’m also
alarm clock-less.  In a valiant attempt to wake myself up for work
the following Monday, I set my computer alarm.  This,
unfortunately, does not wake me up. I wake up in a panic, and find out
it’s 7:30am.  I’m already a full half-hour late to work.

So, I just don’t go.  Eff it.  I couldn’t muster up enough
bullshit to fight for that job.  That means I didn’t want to
muster up enough bullshit to fight for a job.

I am now sitting here at the mercy of temp agencies… waiting for one to ring me and save my ass.   

Still, I can’t help but think… thank God I’m out of that place… again.

This makes me think that there’s something ultimately wrong with me…
at least a little bit.  Somehow I’m a little off… little
crazy.  But I talk about this to some of my fellow cast-members in
Room to Improv, and one of them tells me that he quit a pretty stable
job at a real estate firm… because he didn’t like it.  At the
past couple rehearsals, I hear the phrase, “quit my job” more than
once… not from my mouth.

This, of course, is all just me trying to rationalize my actions.  Rationalizing the irrational… optimism abound.

Sarcastic quip: Also, I can’t wait to tell my parents.

Oh, and I got my phone back.

The Gillette Fusion.

5
blades plus a single blade for “precision shaving” on the back?
This is effin ridiculous.  And it has battery-powered
micro-pulses.  I swear, one day this society will turn the earth
into a giant mass of bubbling hot magma and send it carreening into the
sun.  Tada! End of existence.

Kris, Wes, and I may be in a movie!  Small parts… but it’s gonna be on film!!

Also… Allan now has a podcast.  You should listen to it! The
profile of the week is pretty cool too.  Though, I say Allan,
you’re entirely too nice to that bastard.

I’m sure he says thanks though. It was like an All-good-things, but somehow better. Thanks Allan.