Silly commonplace internal struggle, straight off the sides of a typical self discovery thirty something movie script. Trying to figure it out grasshoppers.

Decided to hand in my superhero pass. The reign of bankin spank on Firestorm is over. I quit my improv group on Saturday. Had to be done. Refuse to sludge through Times Square weekly without some cash attached. Move the venue from where my peeps, New Yorkers, have fun, to the manure infused sandbox of the city, that real New Yorkers detest, Times Square. Stinky move.

Erik ( thus marks the first instance when I have actually utilised his real name, readjust your lives accordingly ) makes stinky moves muchly. He is the producer sort person, and post fellow team member, who also is incapable of refraining from souring all events on stage that he injects himself into. Let it be on record, albiet a currently slighty secret record from most people I know: spanky said you suck orangutan as an improvisor Erik. Showing zero signs of progressing in his acting talents. Decent spoonful chunk of the reason I bailed.

He wanted to leave the door open. Take a break and come back when I want. Face cracking grimace crawled up his face when I said I wanted a clean break. Hasn't taken me off the team notifications mailing list yet. I'll send him a pamphlet on denial.

He tried to get my drool factory to kick in with enticements of future plans to start a television show, including a paycheck for all those involved. He gots connects apparently. The googly eyed, blue furred dubious spanky monster was all over that one. Literally, I have not experienced a more consistent poor decision maker than him. Even if the skies crack open, and a shaft of golden luck light envelops him, enabling his show to take off, I would avoid it hardcore.

Anyway, yeah, I'll miss a few of the peeps on Firestorm. But, whew. Feels like a twenty two pound mole was lanced off my shoulders.

Will definitely make a triumphant return to improv. I love freaking without nets on stage. That would stir the bubbling shit pot if I got on another group immediately, after using the excuse of time management and resolving personal issues as to why I had to bounce. Fuck the dumb shit though. If a decent team that I could grow in wanted to have my sword, it would be drawn at the ready. Quick, two times. Ya heard?

I honestly do need to slap some of my shit around. I need an adult jobby job schedule. Days and times of the week of my shift changing month to month is retarded. Especially since I don't know what my schedule is going to be until two weeks before the month starts. Completely unable to arrange my life with any competency. Steaming mound of horse puckey. The hunt for a new jobby is on.

I think part of the problem is I am not having enough orgasms. Not nearly enough. I need a dick exploding, brain cloud dissipating, revelation orgasm. Send resumes and head shots for the position of revelation orgasm dispenser to the spanky spunk relief organisation. Video footage samples of bedroom technique strongly suggested but not necessary.