Sunday, February 19
I am Pier 1 Imports' Sales Associate of the Month for February, 2006. The minute that the store manager, during the store meeting tonight, announced my name, I wanted to burst out laughing because being employee of the month is just about the corniest fucking thing in the world. But aside from maliciousness, I like my job and I do take it seriously. Because if you want the fucking money, you have to fucking earn it. I learned that the fucking hard way.

As Sales Associate of the Month, I get fifteen Pier 1 bucks and a pin to put on my apron. I should wear the damn thing in public just for kicks. Oh, you're wearing that $10 1x1 button from Hot Topic? So, I'm fucking Sales Associate of the Month. Fucking moron.

On my break I went to Panera Bread for what the fuck do you think? Bread. Actually, a sandwich. On a sign in the window it was advertising some new Chicken Olivada sandwich. The dead, once kicking and flailing its legs and reluctant to having its head dunked into boiling water chicken that was sticking out between the pieces of bread looked really fucking good, so I went in and ordered one to go. Like Jim Gaffigan says, "Fun to pet, but more fun to chew!"

After just picking up my order and about to walk towards the door to get back to Pier 1 and eat, there was this girl from school that I'd seen before standing ten feet away, staring right at me like Saint Christopher just appeared on Earth and said he was going to teach her how to drive a tractor. She's a freshman or sophomore or some shit, I've never spoken to her and she's always staring at me. I'm sick of people staring, man. Go fucking stare at yourself in the mirror and look at what's wrong. She also has an ugly ball piercing on her chin, underneath her lip. Looks lame. Most piercings look lame so I'm pretty biased. But then again it may not be the same girl because Panera Bread is dimly lighted and I had on aviators so everything was fucking pink and black.

The sandwich was fucking exceptional. But as dumb as I am, didn't know that it had olives in it when I looked at the sign so even though the sandwich was good while I was eating it, the aftertaste of the olives was fucking nasty. Never again am I getting that sandwich because the olive aftertaste lasts way too long and way too strong than anything should. Nasty fucking shit. Maybe the sandwich just looked really good because my vision was impaired. The plaza that I work at is faced directly at the afternoon glare - nobody can see shit. Added to the fact that every store has windows the size of Pam Anderson's tits so everything is reflecting light off of everything else, including my own face.

So that Rolling Stones video for "Emotional Rescue," goddamn it's as seizurizing for me as Pokemon was for those japanese kids. They probably think it's nothing at all while I think Pokemon is pussy shit, but oh man is "Emotional Rescue" fucked up. The song isn't that fast or anything, but it's all but a bunch of thermal colors and black horizontal lines flashing like some funky TV set, added to the different camera views every so often; That video I just cannot stand watching. I was at my dad's friend's place last night and the guy had DirecTV or TiVo or some shit that is way too expensive and works too slow for my budget.

There was also a live performance of Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird" and I'm sick of that song so I went and watched something else for twenty minutes. Flip back to VH1 Classic, Lynyrd Skynyrd is still performing "Free Bird." Or at least it felt like twenty minutes. No, it was fucking twenty minutes, man. The thing about epic I'm-so-fucking-great-I'll-write-a-10-minute-song-with-a-4-minute-guitar-solo-in-it-because-I'm-the-shit kinds of songs is that I could listen to them for about once or twice or maybe even three times in a lifetime, but then that's just fucking it. Yeah, Axl, I'm talking about you. "November Rain" doesn't need to be played on the radio five times a day.

And "Stairway to Heaven" of course. Good song, for like the first seven listens. And then whenever you hear it from then on it's like taking a standardized test without the test and the pencil and the piece of turd the size of Puerto Rico lodged so high up your ass that you're not allowed to go and dump because that fucktard of a teacher won't let you go. But watching Zeppelin performing it live for eleven, sixteen, even twenty minutes, is fucking priceless.


Christina N. @ 9:44 PM