so i'm sitting at home at eight thirty in the morning, not faking sick, not really sick, not on a holiday or a scheduled day off, but rather to wait for a pair of appointments i have at our new building at nine and nine-thirty. i find it odd to be on the receiving end of an appointment. appointments were always something i made (or rather, that someone else made for me) in order to see a professional. i would hardly consider myself a professional at my business (i certainly don't dress like one), and the only thing i'm willing to call myself a pro at is comedy, which i haven't done professionally for over a year.
man, we gotta get a show together...
(poor) fuck(ing) bush (had to stop his month-long vacation two days early and come back to show some measure of leadership, the poor widdle baby)