I'd Far Rather Be Happy than Right Anyday.

It starts in elementary school.

When I was a wee dork, there were two important traits present in my psychomalogical makeup:

1) I read like a weiner dog; that is, if books were meaty shins.
2) I suffered from extensive innocence that I am still recovering from to this day.

And with these twin bits of fate running about, I discovered a book series that would change my life, despite the fact that it really shouldn't have: The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Towels as nigh-omnipotent tools! The answer to our existence is 42! Extraordinary and silly planets that rarely get mentioned again! It was too insanely great NOT to latch onto as truth.

(No, I am not saying I believed the events in the book happened. I'm saying I believe(d) in it in the same fashion as your average churchgoer; it has numerous elements of a greater wisdom, but is not, by most standards, an absolute reality.)

Now this is the point where I sidle up to my point and pounce on it. I have a fetal job interview later today, which is to say I need to call a guy I emailed my resume to. Should I play my cards right, I should easily get a job interview and a shot at the job itself. The key words in that last sentence are "play my cards right." Yep. I, a non-linearly-minded* creative type, must prove to a random stranger that I am worthy NAY, DESTINED to be their license plate inventory clerk.


I'ma gonna need sleep first.

Wonder why I post mostly when I'm tired...
Wonder what the first part of this post has to do with the end...
bah.




*For proof of this, read the comic/story.