misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

I know it's been awhile but two disruptive events have broken my traditionally boring and predictable lifestyle:

1) I retired.
2) I went to Jamaica.

Concerning point 1, I've decided to bring a new fad into vogue called "tempidition", which is my word for temporary retirement. It occured to me that working the duration of your life until 65 and then retiring is an outdated model. I've decided to work 8 months a year, and then retire for the remaining four, before returning to the work force and doing it all over again. That allows me four months of retirement a year for the remainder of my life, rather than four hundred months at the end of my life. Part of this decision was due to the fact that two of my friends actually are retired, but being that I lack the skill or talent to join them, yet wanted to partake regardless, I've found this to be an acceptable solution. Not working for weeks on end reminds you that something exists outside of computers, offices, and bars. In any event, this is one reason my blogs have been far and few between. I'm not actually at work trying to waste time. Ironically, the more time you have to waste, the less you actually want to waste it.

2) Concerning Jamaica, since 98% of my readers were actually there with me, it doesn't make sense to post a full recap. For those looking for closure to my lost tuxedo, I found it upon my arrival to JFK in the American Airline lost and found. Apparantly, it had found its way to Finland after JFK, which made me intensely jealous of my tuxedo, as it has now been to a country that I have not. Explanations as to why my tuxedo was sent to Finland, and whether or not it ate beluga eggs, were in short supply. The woman at the AA counter provided the obligatory amount of attitude and bullishness required of employees at airline lost and found counters (i wonder if they test them on this before hiring. like you have to rate your level of cuntness before being hired. if so, I can assure you American Airlines only hires those at a cunt level of 9 and 10) Luckily, I've since returned it, avoiding the pleasure of having to pay $1,000 for a tuxedo I never was able to wear.

Other than that, we were provided the essential tropical requirements of 4 A.M swims in the lazy river, entire days nourished only with pina coladas and jerk chicken, the resort's salute to american independance complete with a jamaican dressed as uncle sam and the statue of liberty, pulling fish and shrimp out of an ice boat and carrying it to a grill five feet away, and, of course, getting my schlong plugged by a big booty jamaican woman on camera for a local jamaican tv show at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. But, of course, no memories will trump the horrific shot of 151 rum downed next to the pool that tasted as if satan pissed down my throat and lit it on fire. Thank dragonhair for that enjoyable memory, which be forever seared into my memory, and my esophogus.

And until our next reunion, I'll do my best to ensure this blog is our group's connective tissue. Stay tuned for tomorrow's exciting post, where I'll explain to you why I hate bookstores. It'll electrify you.