There were long stretches of nothingness at Coffee Fest this weekend. Very long stretches. So Mckenzie and I filled the time will all kinds of childish diversions. We took personality tests to determine everything from our dominant chakras to our Native American power animals. We did enneagrams and horoscopes and discovered our inner goddesses. (Turns out Mckenzie is a bossy whore and I’m a verbose stalker.)

When that book ran out of entertainment value, we started reading some of the 1001 Dumbest Things Ever Said. And I even read aloud some anecdotes from a book I was inexplicably reading about coming up with ideas for advertising.

But all that was Day One. And there was a whole lot more boredom stretching out before us. Despite the abundance or rude and/or stupid people to make fun of (behind their backs, of course — we are in the customer service industry, you know), and despite the fun rubber yoyo toy that looked like a jellyfish, we needed more distraction.

Yesterday, our desperation reached junior high levels, and we made cootie catchers and played MASH.

I threw away the cootie catcher, so I can’t remember exactly what the outcomes were, but I do recall something about Mckenzie’s future involving an unfortunate rash. But I saved my MASH sheet. It’s nice to know what the future holds, even if it holds crap.

So here’s the rundown.

I’m going to marry the cute Australian exhibitor at Coffee Fest, and we shall honeymoon in Australia. Quite fitting, I think. Have to meet his family and all that. Then we’ll be back to live in an apartment in Canada, where I’ll have the exact same job as I have now (oh joy), except that my new salary will be one billion dollars a year. Canadian dollars, I suppose. My car will be a limo (I hope I get a driver, too), which is good, because I’ll have seven kids and a pet lion, so it’ll be important to have a large vehicle.

This isn’t exactly ideal. I mean, I was really hoping to snag Johnny Depp or Christian Bale, and earn my billion dollars a year as a best-selling author, but it could be worse. I could be earning minimum wage, honeymooning in Beirut, driving a Segway, or taking care of a colony of spiders.

It’s nice how MASH can really give you some perspective. Yes, things could be better in my life. But they could also be far worse. Segway worse.

Thank you, inventor of junior high boredom relievers. I salute you.