Thursday, November 3
Is it a rule for autumn to always be so fucking windy? The temperature is just fine, but the wind is as almost a big a pain in the ass as finding out that there's no potato chips left after opening the bag, when thinking it was full because some stupid motherfucker tied it back with a rubber band really neatly near the top of the bag, as opposed to tying it near where the chips would be. That happened today, by the way. But anyway, it was so windy that dust kept blowing into my eyes and blowing my hair into my face, whilst fucking it up too, causing for an hour or two's worth of combing later on. It's not Chicago, for fuck's sake. And right now I bet Al Capone's grandchildren are having the time of their lives because they could actually sit on their stoops without the checkerboards and checker pieces and midget tables flying into some hobo's ass four blocks away.

I bet when you were a child, you loved getting bandaids taped all over your little boo-boo's. There would be Minnie Mouse, Mighty Mouse, Underdog, or any other animal that's not supposed to wear clothes, on those bandaids and sold in aluminum boxes. The aluminum boxes were amazing and I have no idea why the fuck they wouldn't sell them anymore, and they really are not sold anymore. But back to my point; having bandaids all over my left hand sucks balls because they don't help all that much if your skin cracks easily in cool weather and you're obsessive compulsive - always wanting to wash your hands, and at the same time are too lazy to change the fucking bandaids (which includes ointment) after washing your hands, which is about thirty-five times a day. For god's sake, you can't even put lotion on, man.

Working on weeknights is really damn decent, because I enjoy minding my own business and restocking cups and dinnerware and having to ring out a few customers, as opposed to working on busy weekends during the day and having to be stuck on register or helping customers out with shit that I don't know the answers to. But unfortunately, a certain somebody's mother claims that a certain somebody is a dumb shit in school so this certain somebody is strictly prohibited from working on weeknights from now on. So I guess I should go back to complaining about work nowadays if I could only work on shitty weekends, as opposed to my more recent and way more positive opinion about work on weeknights.

The only bad thing about working on weeknights is that I only get about half the amount of sleep that a healthy, maturing adolescent chick should be getting. And therefore the next day the chick (the time when not in work) causes fucking havoc on everybody around them because of lack of rest. It's like my calmness meter used to be within the coolness of Greenland, and now from lack of sleep has become to the likes of, let's say, Fiji. Or Mercury, for that matter. Which explains the wanting-to-rip-your-genitals-off-with-a-pair-of-ice-tongs mood that you have just wasted your jerkoff-to-Teri-Hatcher time with. I don't care if you're a girl, I bet you jerk off to her anyway. I know I don't, because whenever I think of her I think of Dean Cain and his horrible acting in that Superman show. And I ain't no fag.


Christina N. @ 5:00 PM