Happy Nine Month Anniversary, Blog!
If I had impregnated my blog with my seed of knowledge and wit, then right around now my bastard child of cleverness would be born. It just so happens that I did spread my semen of joyous intelligence upon the entire world wide web, hitting it in the eye of truth and smacking it upon the ass of injustice. Nine months later, and my seed has been sown in such locations as New York, Las Vegas, Albion, and even right where I am in Chicago. Do I feel responsible for these other blogs? Yes... and like every responsible parent, I check up on them to see how they're doing. But I don't get so involved as to hamper them from growth.
It is odd to me that what started off as a way for me to vent steam has become such a mindless constant update machine. I guess the good news is that I really don't have much to vent about... I mean, it's not like things are going perfectly, but I'm fairly content with where I am. I've got a routine (not a set one, but it's a routine), I've got more people than I can shake a stick at, and a job with potential for growth (moron this later). I guess I'm doing okay.
Speaking of growth at work, Andrea and I had an "honest discussion" last evening. I stated fairly bluntly that I thought I did about twice as much work as Seth (in charge of development... but also very nearly getting fired), and that I really wanted his salary. Basically, I said what she and I had both been thinking for a long time... and she's stressed about all the new decisions to be made as President and, at one point, she referred to me ventingly as a "son of a bitch". Probably because I make her pick up her cigarette butts, and she wasn't going to, so I went to pick it up and she exacerbatedly referred to me as a "son of a bitch", and picked it up herself. I just want clean streets... is that too much to ask?
I'm putting this in my blog just for me: This morning I was making breakfast burritos and I dropped my large glass container of salsa which, of course, shattered. Why do I add this to my blog, you ask? Because in a month or two, I want to be able to recall why I just cut my foot on something in the kitchen. It's because you didn't clean up all the broken glass, stupid! (Sidenote: I already cut myself near the wrist. I was on my hands and knees... and I must've missed one, because I put my hand down and it got me at the back of my hand, right near my wrist. Fun, huh?)