Real Job Equals Real Estate

OK, the job hunt is not going so well. I sat in the parking lot of Target today, trying to get up the nerve to go in. I couldn't do it. I couldn't wear the red t-shirt and earn minimum wage. So I smoke a cigarette and drove away.

The next stop was the community college. I went inside, ignoring the 'pay and display' sticker thing for my car. I have $1. That's right, $1 until I get a job. I swear I'm going to break down and spend it on a McDonald's sundae soon. So I'm not wasting it on their stupid parking fee. I went inside the CC, and it was a madhouse. White trash, Mexicans, and old people everywhere. They were all carrying yucky backpacks and looking pissed off. I couldn't do it. I couldn't wait in line to find out that no, I won't be allowed in the real estate course even if I suck Dr. Schaff's dick and no, I'm not considered in-state and will have to pay $500 for the course. So I turned around and navigated my way past all the losers in old flip flops and back to my car (which didn't get a ticket). But I don't think it matters, because I just called Century 21 and for $200 I can take a real estate course in 5 Saturdays, then take the state test.

So I'm teasing Heather. I kind of want to move out there and bleed rent out of her (and live with her and take turns running on the treadmill we'll buy so we get super skinny). If I teach out there I can buy a house for half what the market value is. I just have to teach there 3 years.

I've been actually plonking my butt down and writing some of the book I always said I would write. Not to get ahead of the game and jinx it, but how awesome would it be to write a book that people actually spent money on? And get a royalty check for years and years if people liked it! I want my book to be really good. So far I'm loosely basing it on this guy I know from the Middle East (Chris) only in my book the guy likes to hang out with the girl a lot more than Chris bothered to hang out with me. I've just killed off his parents. I will tell you the rest later. No, actually, you gotta buy it. But I'll give you a steep discount.

I told Heather that I want to paint a room in my house pale pink.

I didn't tell her about the bondage lair in the basement, where we will chain men that we want to have sex with from time to time.

California kind of sucks, kind of rocks.

Miss you guys!