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Just What Is That Clinging To The Fan Blades? | PJ Newman

Even before the blood dried on the contract, did I regret selling my soul?
Was it really my soul? I don’t remember my mom sewing a nametag on it …
If the signature is illegible (as if you can really decipher mine), can you get it thrown out on court?
Probably not and I don’t play tennis anymore.
This morning
I signed on as Rental Manager at American Music Rentals.
It’s my 4th tour of duty. It almost only lasted a month, but because of my brilliant bargaining skills (the owner had absolutely no other choice), I inked a deal wherein I got everything I asked for. Of course, the first item on the list was to shut down and sell half of the business, but I prefer baby steps. I also got to choose the crew I wanted, so we started naming names and Kirk Jamieson’s floated to the top, not unlike a dead fish. For some unknown reason, Kirk continues to talk to me after 10 years and even agreed to work with me again.
Oh, will they ever learn?
As stated in the last missive, no sooner than I returned to American 3 managers gave notice within hours of each other.
Did I smell that bad?
Don’t know. When I was considering taking over, they all rolled their eyes and pointed out all of the flaws that I would be inheriting. I knew about them, probably added to them. Still, it’s an opportunity to affect positive change and get health insurance.
What could possibly go wrong?

After pouring concrete for the new front porch pad for the front house, I went to Teatro Zinzani for the first time as a customer. I had been to the site while under construction and had been the Production Manager (I had my own bottle) for Jon Stone and Lisa Franklin’s wedding last year.
What a trip! Jon secured us a great table (ringside) and had a $120 bottle of champagne waiting for us.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that by having such great seats, we were ripe for the picking and plucking for audience participation. With a vicodin and 3 glasses of wine in me, I’m not sure how I would’ve responded. I’m guessing I would either have frozen up or had an episode of Tourette’s Syndrome!
Luckily, the angel of death passed over us, but did make Panzer wear a toupee all night.

Well, Robert’s tearing up the side walkway and moving wheelbarrows full of dirt as we speak. I can either join him or take a nap.