i left with a belly full of whiskey, fish and beef, and a bag full of alcoholic keychains, a crown royal glass, one of those belgian-styled tulip glasses, a dewar's flask, anchor steam's the american bartender, and $15 off a bottle of johnny walker.not too bad.
whiskyfest is always a great, intellectual, time. i think people hear the name and assume it's a lot like the movie beerfest-- and i can see why-- but it's more like a wine-tasting for people who think wine is for pussies. you hear words like "smokey" thrown about and you learn how to speak whiskey rather than just drink it. both times i've gone, i've enjoyed the learning aspect of it more than anything else. plus, i think the older crowd is excited to see someone so young pick whiskey as their drink.
i could've done without the photographer telling me that me and my ex are on the malt advocate website from last year's fest-- and asking where the ex is now. for a photographer, she needs to learn her boundaries with strangers.
in terms of employment, i haven't picked up any new jobs-- though the interview at the shoe store made me feel guilty again. i talked with one girl who had been unemployed since march and she had that Fear. i suppose what everyone says is true: when you don't want a job, you'll get one because you're relaxed and when you do want one you just mess everything up. it's a lot like wanting a girlfriend in that way. this job-hunting woman was so afraid of what would come of failing the group-interview that she legitimately tried to convince the manager that working for ups is very similar to selling shoes.
i still don't know how i feel. i don't like seeing so many people suffer over finding a job, but i don't agree with the "it's bad out there" comment they all throw about when we discuss job-hunts. it's not like i wasn't "out there" and i have to say it's only as bad as you believe it to be-- like freddy krueger.
my dragon-drawing job is picking up again-- and maybe i won't have time for a part-time job anyway. when i was first contracted, i had two weeks to draw ten dragons-- four of which wore costumes. then, my contract was extended, and i was given six days to draw five four-framed comics (twenty dragons with backgrounds, costumes, and other dragon-characters).and now, i've got two weeks to draw thirty dragons with backgrounds, costumes, and the like. definitely a challenge-- but that's sort of what i want. it's getting to the point where i can practically draw this character in any position or style, while eating a bagel or prank calling someone.
currently, i'm stealing a new wifi that's popped up on my list of unlocked connections. i have no idea how long it'll last, but we should be hooking up our own internet soon enough.
in the meantime, i offer you an actual conversation i had the other night:
"damn," i said, to keep the conversation going and having no experience with cocaine in vegas, or big fucking places.
"yeah," he slowed down, "well this part is embarrassing. but, i was doing a lot of coke. so when i woke up... i... well, i'd shit the bed. like all over the sheets and the girl."
"damn," i said again, but longer and with some eyebrow.
"and i'm like, 'fuck, what do i do?' but then the chick starts waking up and she's sniffing around and shit. she rolls over to me and goes, 'what's going on?' and so i made a judgment call..."
"yeah?"
"i said, 'look, you shit the bed.' and she got so embarrassed-- but i knew i was never gonna see her again, i had to let her take the fall-- i told her she shit the bed and then said, 'and you should leave.' haven't seen her since, man."
okay, i'm out!
p.s. the blue angels can eat a dick.
bye.
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