Saturday, October 7
So I have one more day at Pier 1 Imports. Thaaaank fucking god for that, my friend. I don't know whether it's because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today or that people are really that fucking stupid, but every customer that asked me for help at work on this fair Saturday in October was a fucking retard. No, actually I probably awoke this morning on the brightest goddamn Mercurian side of the bed and people really are that shitheaded.

I was carrying a rocking chair (yes, a lame ass rocking chair) for a customer, following her out towards the door to bring it to her car. Then this other woman from behind interrupts me, and asks to know the height of a certain table. Woman, can you see what the fuck I am doing? I'm helping a another customer, while carrying a heavy piece of furniture for them - Shut the flying fuck up and un-tie that knot in your panties.

And then there's the people who ask for your opinion on candlescapes or kitchenware themes or living room pillow themes - matching colors and shapes and items and shit. But they take so fucking long to make a decision, so you have to stick around them for about twenty minutes, watching them rub their chin and making no progress whatsoever. (It makes me think that my old days of sitting in front of the computer for eight hours a day visiting the same five websites over and over was more enchanting.) They keep asking you questions, and they always say that your answers are right, but then they say that they're not sure if it would work in their house. Then don't ask for my fucking opinion if it doesn't matter and let me go; because they always end up getting something entirely different from what my advice was.

Maybe I'm just too excited to get to Banana Republic. There, I don't think I have to go around bothering people. Purchasing clothes doesn't require to have your own bitch. This is the only situation where folks being insecure about their bodies comes in handy - because they're too afraid to ask anyone or have anyone pay attention to their nastyass gourd-shaped figure. Thank fucking god.

After exchanging numbers and hugging goodbye to John, I went to the car to go shopping or wherever next with my mom. I asked if I could get something to eat and then ensued a fifteen-minute pointless argument about how she won't let me eat mexican food at Qdoba but would let me eat unhealthier shit at McDonald's because it doesn't have a weird smell or any "unhealthy" spices that would "inflame my skin." It's nothing but her bias against food that she doesn't like. It was fucking dumb, I won't elaborate on it anymore.

I ended up eating creamy pesto pasta or some shit at the Roxbury Diner that filled me up like a fucking puffer fish. Then we went to Macy's at the Ledgewood Mall, and eventually to Wal-Mart at night. Dude, I ate so much at that goddamn diner that I had to shit twice during that entire time. Not cool, man. While at Wal-Mart I started to get cranky because my mom kept going apeshit about how I should only buy makeup by the brands of which she has coupons for, even though they suck Winger balls, and the fact that I felt like having an iron zeppelin drop out of my asshole. Jesus Christ, motherfucker.


Christina N. @ 9:59 PM