Friday, June 10, 2005

Dead Man Working

All change please, this job terminates here. It’s almost time for me to pack up my Spongebob Squarepants Pez Dispenser and get the Fuck Outta Dodge. Less than a week to go now.

Friday afternoon. The last Friday afternoon I’ll ever work in this office. Or this building. Or even this postcode.

I know everything will be OK. All I need is a smile from my two girls to get me through the day.

And comics. I need them too.

And movies. And maybe some funk CDs.

Mrs. AKA is pulling out every trick from her repertoire to keep my spirits up, so she’s taking me to see Mr. & Mrs. Smith tonight. She knows the effect that Angelina Jolie and an arsenal of high-tech weaponry can have on the pleasure-centres of my simple ape-brain. Whattagal! (Mrs. AKA, that is, not Mrs. Smith.)

I don’t envisage being in the office a great deal next week. Going to snag a couple of days off to look for The Next Job, whatever it may be.

One positive note from this week: I bagged a new writing gig, and now I’m working on a script for a short documentary featurette for a forthcoming DVD release, which will keep me out of trouble, might fatten my ailing bank account ever so slightly, and could always lead to more work. No downside on that one. It’s doing what I love, and doing what I’m good at.

So, until the axe finally drops and gets snarled up on the gristly bit of my spinal column that keeps my head attached to the rest of me, I’ll just sit here staring at the walls wondering what the hell I’m still doing here.

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