My friend Paul (A.K.A., "Uncle Pauly") has a blog now. Which, if you know Paul, is pretty cool, 'cause: boy can write (unfortunately, he can't drink. And I can think of no excuse for that shirt). Anyway, if you're interested, here's a link, here. He says he doesn't know how long he'll be able to sustain an interest in writing, but whatever. For now (and "for now" is all some of us have, no?) you can check him out.
One post in, and I'm already hooked. Although, maybe Paul's shopping lists would be interesting reading to me... I don't know. I'm a fan, it's true.
...
I don't remember if I mentioned that my work wants me to become a Notary Public? A couple of weeks ago I went down the Long Beach Adult School and took a six hour course. At the end of those six hours, some lady from the government came and tested us.
The class was not difficult; the test was another story. More than half the questions required me to know things we had not even mentioned in class; I ended up guessing on about 2/3 of the test. There were only 30 questions, and you could miss five. I was the second person done (actually, I was the first person done, but I waited to turn in my test because I didn't want it to look as if I was giving up). I felt like shit that whole day: it was hot, the people in my class did not impress me (they reminded me of the bozos in my 10th grade biology class, taught by Sanderson the Lesbian; she was pretty cool, but no one paid attention, least of all me. She had a terrific way of insulting us while at the same time making us laugh. Also, she screened "Harold and Maude" for some of us one day after school), my stomach hurt ALL day, I missed most of my niece and nephew's birthday party, and then I had to run off to the theater... it wasn't a good day. So I thought I flunked the class pretty much from the minute I started reading the unfamiliar questions.
Today I received my results: I fucking passed.
I can't believe it.
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