The secret to my better mood is palming things off on other people. Why did I not think of this weeks ago? Hours ago? I thought of it, and that is really all that matters. There I was, staring at the bottom of my second or third giant glass of Singha, and it hit me: outsource. So that’s the plan, man. First with the cleaning service and the ghostwriter and the ethicist, and now I ain’t doing nothing for nobody no more. That sentence included so many negatives that I can’t possibly divine the true meaning of what I said, but that’s just the point – I don’t have to anymore. Someone in India was on it eleven hours ago. Because that’s their day time or something. I’ll get a fax, and I’ll let you know what I said. Don’t create, facillitate.
On a sidenote, I did fire my ethicist after being advised against throwing a total snit while sprawling in the sunny spot on the floor. The hell she said.