surf's up

I just figured out what the best part of living in a new city is.

Anonymity.

The slate is entirely wiped clean for me, and I can be someone else. I've never liked myself anyways. As stellar as this is, my old life keeps creeping up on me, like an IRS guy with a vendetta. Here's when I hit this great realization: I was walking downtown today and saw a familiar vehicle. The only thing about it was that the vehicle, while being a familiar make/model/colour, was completely foreign to me. And that, sir, is when it occurred to me: "Nobody here even knows my name."

In my former smaller town, people were identifiable by their vehicles. Red Honda hatchback? That had to be Diane. Little black Mazda? My good friend Cat. Grey Ford. Yellow Acura. Blue Pontiac. Taupe Toyota. Everyone was recognizeable. Now? I'll see a face that doesn't match an automobile, and suddenly I realize where I am...and it's weird.

I've decided that if things don't work out as I have planned, I could always be a carny. Can you imagine how much pussy those guys must get? Not that I'm after poon or anything; I'm no dyke. Just, wow. Exciting lives. Fighting locals. Smoking near the carousel. Travelling. No real dress code for work. It's the easiest fucking job ever, and those bitches get paid decently, too. Standing by a hot dog stand last night, I saw 2 carnies take on 3 locals. Guess who won? The carnies. Split Local Joe Schmoe's eyebrow in half with one solid pack.

Speaking of hot dog stands, some words of wisdom. When it comes to carnival food, my advice is to stick "safe foods". This means anything that can be clearly identified as one of your traditional "fair food fare". Example: hot dogs, cotton candy, corn dogs, sno-cones, etc. Avoid the foreign foods. Avoid the new and interesting offerings. Ignore this advisory, and I'm the guarantor and standing example of what'll happen to you, post-digestion.

I think you get what I'm saying.