Another workweek over, and what a week it was, memorable in part for the great number of “Supsup” jokes I heard, funny and otherwise. Poor Shamcey. Roll call must be hell for her in high school. Those sniggering boys. Perhaps they’re not sniggering now.
Seriously, it was a mentally exhausting week. I was given a writing assignment and I don’t know how in hell I can handle it. (It was a mistake saying yes to it considering my daily workload. Jesus, what was I thinking?) It’s about smoking cessation clinics. Interview people and turn what they have to say into a cohesive story — was what my bosses asked me to do. It looks fairly easy; it only gets difficult when the people I want to interview are not answering my calls and emails. Admittedly, I’ve very little patience for this. Add the fact that I loathe talking to strangers and one will conclude that I’m in the wrong profession. Yeah, dude, tell me something I don’t know.
Will give it my best shot, though. Good luck to me.
Meanwhile, it’s weekend. I’ll stop thinking about this shit and chill. And by chill I mean sleep a lot, watch a lot of TV, read like there’s no tomorrow, play with my beautiful daughter, and ride the scoot with my wife Charmaine on Saturday night.