Blood, Roses and Me Again
I was at an Alex Burke party one time (loud, flip cup, busted up by the cops when no one was committing crimes) and someone called me out on not finishing my blog about my terrible hand cut. Well there little missy you’ve got some nerve, I’m a busy man! However, the lobster ordeal is on hold for now. My School work has subsided. And the throbbing sensation has likewise subsided in my hand. Since all is right with the world I suppose I can resume my story. Sit back kiddies and have a read…
So where we last left off I was returning from the hospital with my lovingly cross stitched hand. It was 3 in the AM and I had an interview to get to in under 6 hours. I’ve always had great luck with interviews but I don’t usually attend them looking like fight club. Yes these are cuts from being terribly clumsy. Yes I’m comfortable with that.
I went to sleep with two fears. First, that I would tear my stitches in the night and bleed all over my girlfriend and the bed and myself and have to amputate my hand because it would be infected. That’s a biggie but it’s all one fear. The second fear would be that I would wake up and not remember I had stitches, as happens most often with my injuries, and then tear my stitches and be fully aware of bleeding all over the place. When I awoke I was quite unaware I had stitches. I was also unaware I had a hand. “oh fuck”, I thought, “it’s gone. My hand has rotted off in the night and is now a zombie hand. I will have to jerk off with my left from now on. It’ll be like a drunk girl trying to impress in the coat room of a vietnamese wedding, all over again, but now it’s every time”. I suppose that could be fun. However, I had slept with my hand dangling off the side of the bed.
Laurel helped me get dressed that morning. Once my hand is slightly injured I forget how to dress myself? After playing ken doll I was off to impress people i didn’t know for a job I really didn’t think I would get. I looked fan-freaking-tastic in my pin stripe suit and solid tie, french cuffed shirt, shined up shoes. I can clean up alright when I have to. I clean up better when I have help. I’m functionally retarded. Really, there’s a mess of grey matter that doesn’t work well from several concussions in my glory days. But that, as they say, is another story.
The interview waiting room was filled with very young kids in their grandpa’s suits. I felt like I was at a funeral or a barmitzvah. It’s so strange that three years ago I looked just like them. Wide eyed and nervous about making it in the “real” world. Firm handshake. Look ’em square in the eyes. Nice to meet you sir. How’s the gold game? How’s your daughter these days? I couldn’t help overhearing someone practicing their greeting in the bathroom, as well as their response to “what would you say are your weaknesses?” The correct answer is either “I can’t say no to your wife when you’re out of town” or “chocolate”. I can never remember which one I use. That poor bastard was really going to say “I think I’m a bit of a perfectionist”. Tough break kid, maybe next time.
An interview is like a date. Or is a date like an interview? I’m pretty sure a date is an interview for your genitals. You sit across from the table, maintain eye contact, try to say the right things that will net the right responses. Ask probing questions that make you seem really into the job and up to task. She’s got your resume on file already, maybe a friend of a friend told her such and such about you already so that’s your foot in the door. When I go in for any interview I’m still thinking with the swim suit area because nothing impresses like outrageous self confidence, which comes from the balls (or ovaries for ladies).
Long story short, I got laid and start work with Health Canada in May. The two are not causally related.
After you have sex at around noon you really need to have something to do. I suppose round two is the best case scenario. At this point my jagged hand gash felt like it was about to shoot its load, so we really needed to do something that would not involve increased blood circulation.
Say honey, how about we go to the Apple Store in china town and get nerd stuff?
And away we went.
That’s my girl. I am so glad we moved in together. Stay tuned for more.