. . . but who's counting, really? I'm back now, and I plan to start updating this here blog thing on a more quasi-regular basis, weather and penguins permitting.
"Penguins?" you say, "What Penguins?" The evil penguins of mass disruption, that's what penguins. They throw dead fish of discontent and frustration at you, burying you under a cold, slimy, stinking mass of scales and goo until you can barely breathe. They appear in various forms, but they will always be penguins. Mine came to me last year in the form of unceasing unemployment. They tormented me day in and day out waving my English BA in my face and laughing their evil penguin laugh (which is more of a cross between Danny Devito's "Penguin" laugh in Batman Returns and the obnoxious warble of a Harley Davidson sans muffler) at me as they pointed to my dwindling bank account. Then they would bury me in fish.
They got me so deluded into feeling like a big fat failure that they actually whispered sweet penguin lies to me and sent me to an interview at a fly-by-night marketing agency that sold something insane. I cried after that interview, feeling like I had sunk lower than retail or food-service. The penguins? They just laughed their evil penguin laugh at my despair and threw fish and squalid eels at me.
But something truly remarkable happened the next day. I got a phone call and the penguins got nervous. It was a job offer from the company at which I am now employed as an editor. After I got off the phone, I of course called everyone I knew and shared the good news before I started kicking some major penguin ass. That's right I said to the penguins, you know what I said to them? I said, "Get your evil oily-feathered butts outta my house and outta my life . . . I am not a failure, at least not a complete one, so just take your slimy fish and your squalid eels and go straight on to wherever it is you go when you're not tormenting me!" So they left . . .
. . . for the most part.
"Penguins?" you say, "What Penguins?" The evil penguins of mass disruption, that's what penguins. They throw dead fish of discontent and frustration at you, burying you under a cold, slimy, stinking mass of scales and goo until you can barely breathe. They appear in various forms, but they will always be penguins. Mine came to me last year in the form of unceasing unemployment. They tormented me day in and day out waving my English BA in my face and laughing their evil penguin laugh (which is more of a cross between Danny Devito's "Penguin" laugh in Batman Returns and the obnoxious warble of a Harley Davidson sans muffler) at me as they pointed to my dwindling bank account. Then they would bury me in fish.
They got me so deluded into feeling like a big fat failure that they actually whispered sweet penguin lies to me and sent me to an interview at a fly-by-night marketing agency that sold something insane. I cried after that interview, feeling like I had sunk lower than retail or food-service. The penguins? They just laughed their evil penguin laugh at my despair and threw fish and squalid eels at me.
But something truly remarkable happened the next day. I got a phone call and the penguins got nervous. It was a job offer from the company at which I am now employed as an editor. After I got off the phone, I of course called everyone I knew and shared the good news before I started kicking some major penguin ass. That's right I said to the penguins, you know what I said to them? I said, "Get your evil oily-feathered butts outta my house and outta my life . . . I am not a failure, at least not a complete one, so just take your slimy fish and your squalid eels and go straight on to wherever it is you go when you're not tormenting me!" So they left . . .
. . . for the most part.
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