Death Dealer (Originally from 10/03/2005)

So I started a new job, 2 and a 1/2 weeks ago. I'm trained as a graphic designer and that is what this job was advertised as. So I start and all seems fine but then they drop this "artist renderings" bomb on me.

Me? I'm supposed to draw? You'd think it'd be simple right my Mom's a painter and my Dad's a draftsman. They both draw in certain respects. I also remember my dad drawing with me when I was younger. I mean we mostly drew technical things like houses or cars but he still kicked my ass. I mean my houses were more Picasso than picture. And not the good Picasso, where I'd be rich by now.

So anyway back to the job. I gotta draw? I ONLY draw monkeys!

Everything is TOPSECRET there. Apparently I know enough that they can sue me for $50,000 dollars if the secrets get out. That's right bitches a five, five zeros, and a motherfuckin comma too if I let out their super secrets.

I've also been thinking about doing freelance instead of working a normal job. But I think I'll have to freelance and work a real job. Maybe me and Andrew will have something amazing come our way.

But mostly I've been thinking about being a Death Dealer, like on Underworld. I think I may deem it my job to decide who is fit to live and who is fit to die. Now I would do this through a methodical way and my personal feelings would not come into play. Of course there are some legal things a gotta get around but once I figure that out it'll be smooth sailing.