I started my kick-arse new job today. Yes, indeed. KICK-ARSE! I intend to vacillate between the English and the American spellings of arse/ass much the way my accent currently vacillates between the Australian and American pronunciations. I love my job. Love at first day. Apart from the fact that it involves looking at penises all day, which I admit is a bit wierd. But you know, penises are a small price to pay for an excellent job with convenient hours at a rapidly expanding company full of exciting, facially pierced queers. I feel like the lesbian bringing the U-haul on the second date, but baby, I want to be here for a while.
The company encourages me to spend as much time as possible watching gay porn to develop my own aesthetic of how to sell the stuff. I love the company.
I am in the middle of moving to my new place in the hippy/dero area of town (those of you in the habit of listening to San Francisco based songs may recognise the Haight-Ashbury region). So I hope that goes well. I will not be sad to see the last of my current little corner of suburbia.
And in stranger news, I have lost all feeling from my left pinky finger. I have no idea why. I can still move it, but not easily. The numbness extends down into that side of my hand. Being a left-hander, it's making it hard to write with a pen anymore. I guess I should go see a doctor about it. It would suck to have to learn to write with my right hand, not to mention the difficulty of having to change sex-hands.
(other people have sex-hands, right? You know... the one that winds up seeing most of the action? Or are most other people sexually ambidextrous?)