Working Men

Well, it was bound to happen, I've joined the working world. Tomorrow, I embark on a journey of structure, deadlines, responsibility, and most of all, $$$$$. No longer will I be Kim's kept man in her perverted goverment concubine, surfing the internet, playing country blues, and hitting the weights like Rocky after Talia Shire tells him to quit for the umpteenth time. Alas, all things must eventually pass, whether they are kidney stones or Tim Tebow. To paraphrase Sir Mick Jagger, I'm not the only one with mixed emotions, as my early retirement has been shattered, and the whip has finally come down.

On one hand, I've given up my precious freedom, like a guy that's been on the lam for a couple of years and finally decides that he needs to be on the 'up and up' and serve his time. No more sponteniety, beers on a whim, internet surfing.....(ahem, technically they are paying me to surf the 'net!) Anyways, you get the point...I've joined the ranks of gainfully employed Americans! So, with mixed emotions, I begin punching the clock tomorrow morning, having Java breaks, complaining about deadlines, and whatnot. Blar Blar Blar.

On the flip side, I have now gained the inside track to being Brodie's hero again. You see, that title had been usurped by Leonel, our gardener. Brodie has a healthy respect for the working man. That is, The Working Man. He not only doesn't wear shorts anymore (for fear that he will not be proletariat enough), he refuses to have 'guys' on his shirt....no more 'Mickey', 'Pooh', and other creatures of kiddie land. So, on any given day, Brodie follows Leonel around in the yard, hunting iguanas, picking up leaves, sticks, and other fun things. All the while, 'The Leisure Man' dawdled away on the computer....so bourgeios!

Well, Leisure Man no more! Friday is now more than another free day in the week. It means something! I remember once feeling this way....A long time ago, I remember actually muttering something like, 'Thank God It's Friday!'. Sure, I still say it, but only to humor my wife and the other working stiffs. But now, I can say it with pride. So, tomorrow, I will join the rank of the workers. Unite! Storm the Garrison. Brew the Coffee!