**alternate title: The Burp of Choice. Unsure about formatting of little footnotering stars but there really didn't seem to be another way to do it.
Busy, bored, blah. B is for all of these things.* They are me. I am them. As my ex-colleague The Mad Russian used to shout down the phone from time to time, startling colleagues and customers alike, 'This is the BULLSHIT.' (In Soviet Russia, newspaper crumples you!)
Some days I think my brain is going to boil down into a little pool of bubbling goo and fall out my nose and onto the carpet (and Mum will cry, "Get that off the carpet!") but so far this hasn't happened. I have picked up a cold, though. So at least there is some kind of bubbling goo falling out my nose.
I have picked up the cold ("hey, baby," I said to it, "what's a nice virus like you doing in a face like this?") as a result of too many nights out Partying Hard and not eating enough vegetables and penning-up (it's the process of making something pent-up) rage at people saying, "Oh, so you're unemployed?" in the tone usually reserved for people who say, "I have to tell you a secret," then lean over and burp into your ear.
I keep explaining that my current burp of unemployment is a burp of choice and not an involuntary burp but they don't seem to get it - I think people just assume I wander around the house all day making jam and talking to the dog and plucking my nose hairs and ok yes that is partially true (except for the part about the nose hairs, which I don't have. No! Not because I plucked them, because I never had any to begin with) but actually it's a LOT more complex than that. Sometimes I have to get dressed before noon.
Also there are Things Going On Behind The Scenes but I kind of can't talk about any of them because
Look! Here is an elephant, painting an elephant.
How does he do that?