10 Secret Girlfriends.

Wow, things are really starting to come up roses in the free-wheeling world of Daytona Splendor.

I think all of my procrastination skills are finally starting to prove useful. You see, I have put off looking for a job for so long that they have just weeded themselves out for me and only the good ones are left. And the best part is, they have come looking for me! I don't even need to go find them, they are on the hunt for me. Talk about a role-reversal. I, the poor student type, should be the one out hunting for a job, but as it happens, the job has decided to give up waiting and is now on the proverbial Daytona-hunt.

Hang on, time out. Man, I just had the greatest little chat with a bunch of little Thai kids on MSN Messenger. How lovely. My elder sister is currently teaching over there, and they were in computer class and she let them talk to me. I love that their first question was, "Does Miss Erin have any secret boyfriends at home?" Ahh, yes. So, naturally I answered, "Yes. His name is Peter. Peter Jorgesen." Of course, after that, she proceeded to take control of the chat box and lovingly referred to me as, "Dork face." Oh how I love interaction with different cultures. I also told them that I have 10 secret girlfriends. And, of course, in response to their wonderings of what she was like when she lived at home, I told them that she mooned people a lot. Naw, I'm lying.

That was fun.

So, anyway, back to what I was talking about before I so rudely interrupted myself. Yes, the Daytona-hunt. The jobs all get outfitted in their ancient tribal costumes the week before they actually go out. I may remind you that the Daytona is a very rare creature, and the Daytona Splendor the rarest of them all. So, the week before, the jobwives prepare the food for the expedition, which traditonally consists of a few loaves of Lembas-bread, which the elfwives so generously donate every year (many well overdue thanks to the Elfwife Rotary Club No. 2237), some tuna samwiches (I know it's spelled wrong, but that's the way everyone says it anyway), some fruit snackie bars (you know, the ones that are like big, thick versions of fruit leather, but really these ones are made up of mostly old apple cores and the shredded resumes of many a failed applicant), umm, and some Bibos. The jobwives are really too good to the jobs when they head out on the hunt. The week is also filled with many fun activities and events relating to the history of the hunt, the success of the hunt and the upcoming hunt itself. There is usually some sort of parade down the middle of Jobbington Perch, with a few big names making their customary appearances. Even such high falootin' members of the community like Jack Jobley, Marie Jobbafield, and Theodore "4-Fingers" McKiller come out to mingle with the little people at times like this. It really does bring the whole community together, which is desperately needed during the rainy season down there. After the parade, there'll probably be a big barn dance, The Daytona Hoe-down, as it has come to be known around those parts. In fact, they had such an incredible turn-out last year at the dance that the barn itself collapsed under the pressure! Boy oh boy, I tell you, the members of the planning committee sure had their faces red that evening! Ahh, but what sense is there in dwelling on the past, out with the old, bring in the new, as I always say. Which brings me to the next part of the festivities, The Old-Folk Slaughter. This is one of the more disturbing events of the week, and used to be illegal. You can probably imagine what it entails just by the name, and no, that isn't just some witty name that has some silly meaning, the people there pretty much call it as they see it.









My word. What just happened?

I better go to bed.



Feelin' slightly uneasy and a little weirded out,

Daytona Splendor.