I wasn’t born to be a sperm donor. Nor was it my lifelong dream to be a grave digger, dog food tester or phone sex worker – but I’ve done all four. And worse. For as long as I can remember I’ve had trouble settling on a career. Unlike most of my high school classmates who instantly knew they wanted to be politicians, lawyers or proctologists (which I conveniently lump into the same category), my lot in life has been a never ending search for the meaning of life – and where to clock out at the end of the day. Bouncing from one hollow, low-paying experience to another, my…
-
-
Happy Birthday to Me Yummy surprises made from mashed sweet potatoes and eggs... happy birthday!
I just celebrated another birthday. Now, before you start applauding, you need to understand that at my age, birthdays aren’t something I relish with any level of enthusiasm. To me, birthdays merely mark the passage of time. The only thing I do to achieve another year on earth is continue breathing in and out and swing my feet out of bed each morning – which is becoming more difficult than it sounds. Things were simpler before the rise of Christianity. People didn’t know how to calculate the lunar calendar, so they couldn’t keep track of birthdays. Everyone just assumed they were getting older when they couldn’t see their toes any…