Curse you, Red Baron!

I dreamed I was reading the newspaper comics and in one strip Snoopy had diabetes and the punchline was that he couldn't find his insulin.

You'd have thought that Charlie Brown would be taking care of this sort of thing rather than having his dog manage his own illness, but maybe since the damn dog can type (among other things), Charlie Brown figured he'd be fine looking after himself.

Brrrr!

It's still to cold to blog. Hell, it's too cold to do anything except eat and sleep. Too bad I can't get paid to eat and sleep. But only if I didn't have to leave home, of course. No reviewing hotel and restaurant for me. Nope. I just want to get money for not leaving the house at all. Better yet, pay me not to get off the couch. I'll need bathroom breaks though.

Get a job!

It's too cold to blog! It's 62ºF in my office.

Meanwhile, I have a shot at getting a really nice paying job. (It's more than twice what I'm currently making, which isn't saying much since I'm paid in balloons and whoopie-cushions.) I have to go and take a test and fill out an application on Tuesday morning. And it's only a five minute drive from home. Problem? I need at least three references. Who the hell ever has references? I never have them. I always end up with these weird family friends. God only knows what they say about me if they're ever called. I need real references. Anyone out there want to be one of my references? Seriously. I'm not joking.

God, I'm pathetic.