Adios, gainful employment

I'm having a problem not smiling. We aren't talking a put on, take-my-sixth-grade-school-photo smile here. No, no. We're talking a full fledged, borderline obnoxious, ear to ear smile. We're in "shit-eating" grin territory. And the weather's just fine.

See, it's my last day of work today. Thursday, I'll wake up without all the embarrassing ecoutraments of my employment: the headset, the Excel spreadsheets, the usually inedible nearby sandwich. It's the stuff of dreams here people. At least for those of us who never dreamed of working customer service at eight in the morning. Which, let's be honest, is probably all of us.

Let us never speak of this place again.

Of course, copious tasks await. So many that simply thinking about listing them just brought back the ol' eye-twitch. Now, I'm usually a very calm person. A few months ago, a unicorn could've bitch-slapped me and I'd've just said "how 'bout that?" These days, well, we're dealing with a monkey of a different color entirely.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing. I'd like to notice pimp-slapping mythical horses if they decide to come over. It's just that the list of things that still need doing before Monday (the tour) and then April 11th (the album release) is basically endless. This, parenthetically, is why bands have managers & bookers & the like. We've just got our little birdmonster family, which is a wonderfully disfunctional---like that grandma you had who said innapropriate sexual remarks at Thanksgiving, but it was hilarious, so you didn't feel awkward.

And no, that didn't really make sense. In fact, I doubt anything I do for the next week or so will. Looking forward to that.

Three songs left...