Autopilot job and a misdemeanor case

First things first. Congrats to Pauly for five years of consistently great fodder at The Tao. I desperately wanted to make the tourney on Stars tonight, but there's no way in hell I'd be able to get to the Borgata for a variety of reasons, the most recent being that I'll be due in court, which got me to thinking that it would be just my luck to win the thing and see that wonderful tourney entry go to waste.

Thanks, Officer Hammer.*

*Not a fictional name. Vic Hammer**. Cliche much?

**For many thousands of years up to the present, this ancient clan is said to have fought and struggled to keep an overwhelming tide of grievous misdemeanors from overtaking the human race.

Good god, it's 3 a.m., I can't get into this right now. I imaging that on or about Sept. 3rd, one way or the other, I'll have a story to tell. We'll revisit the back story then. Nonetheless, there's my excuse for being longer than anticipated.

You don't like that one? I have others.

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It started around the July 4th Holiday.* I received a job offer, which, given current conditions, I think must mean that I'm very awesome or very lucky. Either one works for me, but I'm reasonably sure it's a lot more of the latter than the former. That's not simple self-deprecation, either-I mean it. While seeking work I was, of course, doing a lot of sighing and moaning and complaining and whatnot. Understandable, to be sure. Who in their right mind wants to work?

*it's amazing how many people (at least 2/3 in my holiday experience this year) want to know 'what plans do we have for the 4th'. If the answer 'I have no plans' didn't send them into catatonic depths, finding out that I also wasn't going to shoot fireworks surely did the trick. You've never seen people go glassy-eyed faster, save perhaps the times when I tell them 'I don't watch television'.

I related to Mrs. Head at the time that what I wanted very much was a job where I didn't have to really think about the job while I was on the job. Something autopilot-ish. The problem of course is that a great many of those jobs have the annoying tendency of being $10/hr or less. It's like living with the knowledge that you're going to have to endure repeated junk-kicking, because refusal means you just get castrated. Or something like that.

I'll try and shorten this up a bit. The new job is autopilot-erific and is enough for Mrs. Head to stay home and wrangle the wunderkind who, also thanks to the new job, will continue to eat. (How do you like this schiziod writing technique so far? Start out long-winded. Switch suddenly to extreme brevity. Confuse and annoy everyone.)

They wanted me to start immediately, but graciously gave me a bit of time to move. And "bit" of time is no joke. This one tested our nomadic limits as we had to find a place (100 miles away), pack up, and move in 10 days, which is pretty much like like starting to work a week before you have to start working, but with money paid by you instead of having money paid to you. Plus, we're back in the city, which means I'll get to see things like stars which should be about as often as I can expect to be able to enjoy some real silence.

Wunderbar.

Overdramatic complaining and Officer Hammer aside, the waves seem to be slowly settling once again as another large adjustment among many takes hold. What? No WonderSpawn news or stories? Of course there are, just not right now. I will say this, though. I think she's on steriods. It's frightening. Enough so that I'm seriously considering a piece tentatively titled Infants and Performance Enhancing Drugs: Physical and Psychlogical Effects on the Family Unit.

Should be great. Thanks again for still reading and stay tuned.