I know what to do with extra foam

Hello friends.

Well, I did it. I applied for a different J-O-B. When I started to think about leaving the man behind, it was like seeing color for the first time, like in "The Giver." I hadn't thought about leaving, but there it was- the possibility of earning more than 1,000 dollars a month while being pushed for maximum output, maximum output, maximum output. Whoa. I felt like Howard Hughes there for a minute. It's the way of the future.

Brian, an old friend from Denver, is coming down tomorrow to hang out for a couple of days. We may hike if it's warm. If it's cold, we might watch movies or go hang out at the Mate Factory with the followers of Yashua. Brian's an athiest, so simply for amusement's sake, I'd like to do the latter.

I got offered drugs again tonight. It was somewhat awkward after I refused, but I made sure to tell my fellow wearer of the green apron that no offense was taken, and it just wasn't my thing. Other fun highlights at work included when a fellow partner and I were trying to get to a menu inside the extremely complicated digital espresso machine, and I was sprayed with rinse water from a hose that is usually covered by a small split spicket. Say those three last words five times fast. I felt like a baby boy was peeing on me before I could cover him with a diaper. Also, when I was yelled at by a woman who spilled her quad venti nonfat extra hot caramel macchiato on herself, and then claimed the incident had ruined her 300 dollar coat. Oddly enough, only about 1/2 inch of liquid was missing from the supposedly defective cup, and her coat looked like the type of windbreaker/jogging suit idea that might have come from Goodwill. Sometimes I want to quit my job. Wait, all the time. Revert to paragraph one.

So about three sentences ago, Draco decided it was time to take over my body and make himself at home, despite the fact that I'm sitting crosslegged on the floor typing on the iMac. He still smells a little bit like tuna. Remind me not to let him lick out the can anymore when I make tuna salad sandwiches. Cats, I think, know when they smell bad and get more cuddly accordingly.

Well, that's about all that's new from the western front. Peace, love, and the pursuit of happiness to you all.