Done

14 hour workdays. Constant computer malfunctions. Headaches. Nausea. A steady stream of stressful bullshit.
"Dave Orsborn's gonna kill someone, Dave Orsborn's gonna kill someone," sings my coworker as I scream obsenities at the latest system failure. We are not doing anything of value to society I remind myself. We are burning the hours of our lives away in a basement in Hell's Kitchen to put together another fucking reality television show. And we are working on computers that were built ten years ago. We've got a couple of hang-gliders and we're calling ourselves an airline. I come home miserable and exhausted and go to work dreading what's in store.
And I ask myself, "Is this worth the toll on my mental and physical well-being?"
My co-worker tried to quit last week and let the post production supervisor talk him out of it. Can't let myself be swayed like that.
I get woken up with angry phone calls from the daytime assistant for not being CC'd on emails.
The show is a train wreck. It'll be a miracle if it comes together.
We are not saving lives. We are not doing anything constructive for the world. Can't let the stress get to me anymore. I am exhausted. I am depressed.
I am done.

Congratulations Samantha!

My sister got engaged last night.
Here's to you and Joe!
Much love,
Dave

Keep Storage Legal

Finally! A place to keep all those aborted fetuses that have been littering my apartment!

Beats Getting Shivved in The Yard

Ah, the Philippines. In order to get the inmates to participate in the daily exercises, they devised a synchronized dance program. And it's gone over like gangbusters!

In fact, the warden has a deal in the works with a US film agency to distribute their videos.

Dang Blast It!

I am sick again.
The third time this summer.
I got sick once or twice a year before I moved here.
New York has ravaged my immune system.