There you go. This won't stop the agonizing, of course; I still can't decide whether to make the safe pick, accepting the Americorps program that's epicly low-paying but offers health insurance, residency and money at the end for school, or roll the dice and just move and hope to land something a little healthier in the wage department. Anyway, it's not too much more of a money investment than staying here, so all things being equal (and with stock money and savings bonds to back up my poverty and the promise of a boost from mom and pop if necessary), I'm going to leave.
Other tidbits from an interesting Sunday:
1. Lawrence, the fellow who hooks up your cable television, showed up in the store right after we opened today. I do and don't get the celebrity thing. I went downstairs to work on stuff while he was here because frankly, my dear, he doesn't "git r done" for me comedically. But, I admit I was interested to hear later what he did, which was buy a perfectly awful Nebraska Hawaiian shirt like any normal guy, and then when walking out of the store, wheel around, point two finger-pistols at the register bay and deliver his trademark line. I respect that. The best part was telling a dad later that day that Larry the Cable Guy had purchased the same thing this morning, and was likely right then at his house, tearing the sleeves off it.
2. They played "Purple Rain" on the XM station. Phenomenal.
3. They also played "Don't Worry, Be Happy." I've never understood Bobby McFerrin's line of logic in this peculiar diddy. He offers all sorts of life situations sure to end in consternation -- not making rent, not having a girlfriend, lack of style -- but never any rationale as to why you ought not bother yourself over these things. I mean, sleeping on the street and not having a lady isn't any fun at all, so I'd think you'd want to offer people strongs reasons to shrug their shoulders and smile like a dope. Rhetorically, McFerrin falls flat on his face, as if he thinks his sugary creation should itself melt away all our cares.
4. Did you see Zenidine Zidane's headbutt?? Awesome. You can't let guidos push you around; they'll think they own you. I hope contrarian commentators like Kornheiser declare this to be as awesome as it was. It's bad enough to listen to Around the Horn-types talk about soccer; lacking any real knowledge of the game, it boils down to slamming the sport because of diving or decrying what a travesty it is that something so significant be decided by an arbitrary activity like penalty kick shootouts. Point taken, but move on. Now, I'm going to have to hear people toe the line of social justice, parroting what a "classless move for such a classly player" it was, and shaking their heads in Puritannical judgment. Shut up. Sometimes a monsieur just has to headbutt a dego-guap into his place. And Zidane has an epic melon to do so. Unlike the stuck-in-a-rut announcers, I'm glad my last memory of him will be as a warrior. That thing was even cooler than winning.