Kinky Cheese and Jobs

Today I had lunch at this cute little out of the way bistro with fancy things on the menu like chicken and spinach crepes. They had good wine on the menu and good art on the walls. But my waitress left me with the impression that they were shorthanded today and made an emergency call to Alice's Diner who donated someone from their waitstaff to help out in the pinch. As she stood in front of me reciting the day's specials she explained that the pasta was made with sun-dried tomatoes and fetish cheese. I almost ordered it just to see the tiny little gouda wheels with ball gags, but alas, I don't like sun-dried tomatoes.

Very nonchalantly and noncommittally for the past year Big Daddy has made little comments like, I almost hired you today and You would be perfect for (insert new business idea). Which always ends with a, Yes, I would be perfect for that, but you can't afford me. Today while at the cute little out of the way bistro he tells me that what has up until this point been an idea that he will one day pursue two or three years in the future, was suddenly green-lighted by the major investor to begin in the next couple of months. He kept going over and over the qualities that he wanted in the person who would head up this little project. Of course he modeled all of said qualities after yours truly, and I politely listened and offered suggestions as to how he could find someone to fit the bill. We kept going round and round with this and finally during a moment of weakness I said, Okay, fine, I'll do it.

These are the kinds of moments that Stacey lives to make fun of me for.

My stipulations to him were that I wasn't quitting my day job, but I would give him approximately 6 - 9 months of my life in the evenings and on weekends getting it up and running the way he (read: me) wants it and can set up an appropriate model for how things should go when I then find and train my replacement. I finished my lunch and then a half an hour later like a ton of bricks the reality of what I had just promised hit me. Apparently I had just signed on for a second job? 70+ hour work week? All my weekends for at least the next 6 months?

Apparently I should have just ordered the pasta with fetish cheese and listened more and talked less.

The thing is, even though it is much closer to fruition than we had ever thought it would be, say, just yesterday, it is still a couple of months away. So there is still plenty of time for me to back out or things to change or one of the other primaries involved to have a different idea about who should run it. But even though the thought of working what essentially amounts to two fucking jobs makes me want to vomit, I'm sort of a tiny bit excited about it. After all, the theme of the summer has been Try New Things and, well, hard work would certainly qualify as a new thing.

In other news, are any of you fuckers watching Big Brother?

And finally, I've contacted Pixie about a new blog. I haven't yet heard back from her, but let's cross our fingers that new digs are in our near future.

And, of course, I love ya'll.