Evacuation Plan

To my few devout readers,

It is important to reinforce that the contents found herein are factual. Nothing within this web portal has been fabricated or exaggerated. I have in some instances, however, withheld information to either protect specific readers or save face myself. And now, it's time for the big reveal.

At some point in my 30th year, I have devised an abstruse, organic plan to evacuate normalcy. For those that don't know, this gives me until the end of 2014. The purpose for this announcement is simple: Accountability.

Many ideas have been floating around in my Rigby Lake-like brain. If you wish to contribute or participate, as always, I am open to all possibilities. This adventure could include entrepreneurship, a nomadic VW Bus-lifestyle, or anything between.

The desk will not keep me seated. Stay tuned Universal Soldiers.

I Like Bums

The ERC (Employee Recognition Committee) in my office hands out $5 gift cards to employees that go above and beyond regular duties. The recipient is given options: Safeway, Einstein Bagel, Subway, or Starbucks. When I am so blessed to receive such an esteemed honor, I choose Subway. Today, I redeemed one of my ERC cards for lunch: foot-long meatball on jalapeno and cheddar.

I chose to eat outside with a co-worker. We were then harassed by a man claiming to be homeless. "Do you have a spare dollar?" he asked.
"No. Do you? I was just about to ask you the same question," responded my co-worker. The man stared at us and muttered something indistinguishable in homeless.

This brings me to the point I'm trying to make. Yes, the rumors are true. I went out with a homeless girl. It was a fun, unique, and interesting experience. I would have gone out with her again, but she was masquerading as a black woman. Turns out, her hair was just nappy and gross due to lack of proper cleaning. She later offered me certain favors in exchange for a place to stay. Like a fool, I declined.

FML.

Rabbits

It is often said that things happen in threes. Little Jorja Harris makes two. And now there is rumor of a third on the east coast. Fittingly, this will make me an uncle six times over. Strange. Some part of me wants to join in on the fun. Another part wants to run and hide in a rabbit hole. That frightens me, too, though -- we all know what goes on down there.

Source Code

I awoke a few days ago with giant gnats tearing at my flesh. The beasts had overrun my garden and infiltrated the castle, Apt# 2069. Unable to beat the onslaught and unwilling to endure the constant buzz, I was forced to surrender. With the help of a friend, I killed my patio garden. Many of the gnats survived, but the majority found death. Tonight, I'm going back for another eight minutes in order to discover how to avoid the battle altogether: Source Code.