a grasshopper walks into a bar...

I just ate some Triscuits that were sitting in my kitchen cabinet. I'm not sure how long they've been there, but they tasted fine. There wasn't any hair growing on them or anything, though, it would be hard to tell if there was on a Triscuit. I have medical coverage, so I'm not so worried.

Work is still crazy, but the end is in sight. It just seems so far away. I know there are going to be a couple more long nights before I can finally relax--until shit goes bonkers again.

I've been such a giant ball of stress. I feel like I'm quoting myself.

I think I have a sign on my head that only other people can see that reads, "psst, this guy's cool to fuck with." I don't mean that in an entirely bad sense. Even upon first meeting--it's even happened with a few people who, as of yet, I've only worked with over the phone--people start ragging on me. Granted, I'm something of a walking Muppet, but I grew up on that show. I guess it's only natural. I could analyze it, but the one thing I've always had going for me, that I've been proud of, is that I've never had a problem having a laugh at my own expense. This could be because others rarely have a problem doing likewise, but whatever. Oddly enough, it usually makes me more comfortable, because I only raz the people I really like anyway...and there aren't too many.

Today, I did an in-person interview with a fascinating business man--an older gentleman with crazy hair and shabbily dressed, which was contrary to the loads of money and land he has. My two bosses and I went to meet with him so I could do the interview and they could talk business. He was a little bonkers, to be sure, and started messing with me right off the bat. I caught him, though, and I could tell he thought that was cool.

Sometimes it can get a little frustrating. I don't take myself all that seriously (well, I do really, but don't tell anyone), but I really hope others do. It's just hard to tell what they think when we're all having a chuckle at my expense.