I have an “autosomal dominant hereditary trait” that causes me to sneeze when suddenly exposed to bright light.

Weird, huh?

I trust Roger Ebert beyond the point that any normal person should.

If I ever need major surgery I request that Mr. Ebert make the first incision.

When I was 4 years old my father took me to see the movie “Grumpy Old Men” at the movie theater. For at least 3 years following that, whenever somebody asked, I would proclaim it to be my favorite movie “of all time”.

Distill from that what you must..

I’m starting work at the new job tomorrow! It’s a big fancy customer service call center, and it pays fairly well.

I have some idea of what I’ll be doing, but there is two weeks of training so I am completely in the dark on the major details.

Intriguing? Maybe.

Exciting? No

I just can wait until I get the money cake train up and running again.

A couple of days ago I quit the social networking site, known as, Twitter…again.  I didn’t tell many people because I didn’t wish to cause the fuss like it did last time it happened. Actually, it was not really my intention to draw any sort of attention to it at all.

I’m not dead…I’m just not on Twitter anymore. There is no set plan of when or even if I’ll be back. Too much of my time has been wasted on the Internet not being productive, and there are many other things that require my attention at the moment.

You can always find me here or at Popbunker.net (where I’m write stuff), and the usual Gmail-Gchat-Facebook-Flickr bonanza.

(And make sure to subscribe to my new feed: http://vintagecaveman.com/rss)

Dear Cave-Lad,

I know you’ve just turned 3 and that’s a big deal (That was a really awesome teddy bear cowboy cake, huh?), but birthday is today too and I just wanted to send along some advice to help you through the next 18 years. Getting from where you are right now to where I am right now is a strange experiance and I just want you be prepared.

Listen carefully, I won’t be repeating myself:

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While returning home from a trip to the college, to fill out paperwork and collect my belongings, my Step-Dad (who’s helping me with this depressing maneuver) decides to take a pit stop at a popular local sporting goods shop.

We found ourselves quickly wandering into the firearms section of the store and I noticed a major ideological rift between him and I.

He’s all like: “Barrels, caliber, magnum, blah, blah, blah.”

And I’m like: “Hey! This is the rifle that Max Brooks said would be good fighting zombies with!”, and “Is that a ‘Walther PPK? That is James Bond’s gun!”

It’s good to know that even in the worst of times I am still nerdcore.

Remember that interview I had on the 13^th? Well…I missed it.

A whole hour before I was supposed even show up I decided that I should get some food and eat it in the parking lot. I ran inside the local Burger King and ordered a classic chicken sandwich with just ketchup, cheese, and bacon (a remnant of the 2 months I worked as a Burger slave) to go, and I rushed back out to the car. Unfortunately, after a quick survey of the area I quickly realized that my keys were not in my pocket where they belonged…they were in the passenger’s side seat.

After a minute or two of artful cursing and maybe a little crying (I’ll never tell.) I spent the rest of my day hiking the handful of miles to my Dad’s place and making frantic phone calls.

The next day, after a lot moaning about how the universe has let me down, I was lucky to get a call back and was shown mercy in the form of a rescheduled interview: Monday at 3.

If I get this job I am going to, as the kids say, “make it rain”.

While stuck in this pit of despair and desolation I like to call my hometown I figure that there isn’t any reason why shouldn’t be making a couple of bucks while wallowing in my own self pity. That’s why I gots me a job interview tomorrow (1/13) at 3.

It’s a nice, little in-bound call center. I’m really not a fan of talking on the phone, but I’m going to try (I hear the money is really good).