LIfe's little lessons

I'm back, well atleast for the moment. Relocation isn't easy, suddenly I have to know where the nearest post office is, the shops, the schools, my neighbors (which I particularly don't care for) - just keep your little vermin off my yard, candy will be outside the door for trick or treaters and my mailbox is uncomfortably close to yours but that's no cue for you to begin retarded conversations about 'the war', 'the weather', 'your dog' or 'your wife'. I do like your truck though we should talk about it.

With my luck, I was back on the west coast again and each time I get there i'm more convinced of how horrible Los Angeles is. I hate corporate lunches, even more with my boss around. Each time we go out for lunch with a client, I wonder how I ended up here. I'm just a humble kid from Buru Buru, born and raised, an ex-changerian with vision of a life vastly different from this. Ask me where I thought I'd have been five years ago and the answer would be radically different. I know nothing of baked cod, I couldn't care less for fillet mignon or fried calamari.

Corporate lunches are nothing but pretentious exchanges between the 'have's'(bloodsucking corporate America) and the'have-mores'-(bloodthirsty rich folk). It's like a tradition, everybody orders either water or ice tea. I have a sudden inclination to order a grand marnier on the rocks since the firm is paying but I have a tingly feeling it won't go down well on my report so I stick to water. After the salad it's all down hill, never order ribs - again I suppress instinct -, remember, the small spoon is for soup, no hands on the table, the small fork to serve the salad, the big one to eat, no need to request re-fills (unless service is not good), they'll do it for you. If I had a choice i'd be back at the office doing something more constructive and having a sandwich for lunch.

Gosh! It feels good to be back!