A taste of stellar job opportunities from today’s sactown Craigslist post. I try, (oh how I try) not to get discouraged in my quest for some sort of temporary shitjob to tide me over but sometimes the mediocrity really gets to me. And thats when I fantasize about moving to Helsinki, start some sort of online search in that part of the world, get sidetracked and start all over again. Ah well, its all good; I signed up for this. If you’re gonna do the whole ‘artist’ thing, you shoure do pay your dues. Or become a Zamboni driver.

The black shoe was already there. The socked foot made an appearance.

It didnt happen to me, but I was first on the scene. Scattered in the kitchen was an empty can of pinto beans, a can opener,  this recipe and the telltale splatter you see here. The involved parties were Madame Steffi’s index finger and the sharp edge of a can lid. The rest is still TBD by a surgeon’s knife and what news the wee hours of the morning brings. Ugh. Everyone, go get insurance right now. The end.

Music: Ce que dit la petite princesse des tulipes by Erik Satie