What the heck I'm up to

It's occurred to me that, possibly, some of you have only vague ideas of what's going on in my life right now. After all, I'd say I have vague ideas of what's going on in your lives, and since I disclose roughly the same amount of information I soak in (in regards to people and relationships, anyway), it follows that maybe a little update is in order. If this bores you to tears or seems like self-indulgent posturing, screw you. How's THAT for fostering relationships?

Might as well start from when I left Bethany. Nope, I didn't graduate. No, Prez didn't enlist me in his secret militia, which some of you might've heard (mostly because I started and made great efforts to propogate that rumor). And no, I won't tell you why. At least not here. I will leave it to the winds of rumor and gossip, because I think that stuff is funny, and hopefully the stories will somehow involve me wielding swords and saving damsels.

Anyway, I came back to Fredericton, and decided I needed a job. So I got one, schlepping produce at the Superstore. I did that for 3 freaking years. I hate broccoli on levels most of you can't fathom (pull broccoli from a box full of ice at 7:30 AM on a winter's morn and you MIGHT have an idea). It was a job, though, and for the most part I was treated well and made decent money. For the last year and a half of that, I went to school, studying Web Design and Development at Compucollege, which is just as shifty as it sounds. Oddly, I've discovered they've since cancelled the program that I took, and so far, I'm the only one from my class to have landed a job.

Yeah, I got a job. I personally think the guy took pity on me because I'd been to school for over 8 years but couldn't MAKE people call me doctor (I still hold little kids upside down by the ankles and force it out of them, though - once a bully, always a bully, I guess). In any case, this little company called Red Cow Technologies hired me on, and now I write computer programs for web-based applications. As a good example of the type of thing, I could probably write my own blog program instead of this one, and perhaps even improve on it. Phear my leet skillz. I've been working here for almost a year, really like the people and the direction of the company - we're up for a KIRA (Knowledge Industry Recognition Award - my coworker has suggested the "Keeping It Real Association", which is WAY cooler, but whatever) award for "Best New Startup Company", and just the publicity alone should be worth a lot. If we win, however, there's a good chance I'll be a millionaire in 3 years. I'm in on the ground floor, baby. Anyway, I say all that to say this: it's going well, and I like it, for the most part. It's not my passion, but I'm not positive I have any of those, so that's OK.

I moved out recently - I now reside a whole 10 minutes away from the safety and warmth of my parents house, sharing an apartment with one of those aforementioned jobless classmates. I rub that in his face every chance I get, often using sock puppets to illustrate the success of my life and the dismal failure of his. The productions get rave reviews, I swear. He's a good guy, we get along pretty well, but for those of you who roomed with me when I had no clue how to think of anyone else living with me - I am SO sorry. I get it now. Seriously, if I go home again to an empty milk carton, wiener package, and bread bag all on the counter again, HE'S going to be greeted with a powerbomb so devastating he'll be afraid of lint falling off his clothes and landing on the carpet in his room. Nice guy, though, good sense of humor.

So that's what the heck I'm up to, more or less. I sincerely would like to be regaled with reciprocal stories of what the heck all of YOU are up to. Except for the ones I know. From each of you, I want a dirty limerick. I'm making my weekly rounds of public bathrooms tonight, and I need some fresh material.

PS - I have added some photos of me because I am sexay and narcissistic and you shall be subjected to my beauty and learn to love it. Also, I wanted everyone to see how absolutely dumb long hair looks on me before I cut it off for the summer, since anything above a steady intake of breath makes me sweat as it is. Oh, who am I kidding? I sweat when I breathe, too. You'll learn to love that as well, though it will be a harsher lesson.