07/08/2003 - 10:41 p.m. | my talent feeds my darker side, yet no one will complain

Today was sort of an aggravated day. Well, the day wasn't. I was. Because I'm a pissy bitch. Obviously.

Hours: 7.5 (7-2:30, same old)
$$$: $85.97

Fuck CDs, frankly. No one cares. Then again, who the hell cares about any of this? Ooh, I can feel the self-loathing rise! What a strange feeling. Like maple syrup.

So, arrived at work on time again (for most of you, this is normal, but I am lacking in punctuality, so pretend like I've done something with my life or God help me, I dunno what I'll do) and it was welding all day long. Pissy welding because everyone there is an inefficient idiot. OK, so Tim comes over and is like, "Blah blah, fill the moveable rack of panels first." Fine, it shall be done. Except the regular standing racks weren't even full yet, and fucking Doughboy and Travo arrive only like half an hour after I get there and start winding. So, I have to finish the moving rack, and they're grabbing stuff off the permanent ones meanwhile so by the time I finish, I am way, way behind and have to work crazy hard to make even a sizable growth in the permanent supply. This probably doesn't even make sense, but it still ticks me off. And then they grab them without the least appreciation, and it just makes me madder. It was just such stupid planning. Have the winders come in later. Have me do something not stupid. But I'm not allowed to complain because that just leads to lecture. "No, Harve, we need short wires, not long ones. Why are you making long ones?" "Well... blah blah blah half hour speech." Nevermind. But, it was a good thing no one got on my case for the depletion of the permanent racks. I welded the same as always; it's their incompetence that destroys us. But yeah, you'd be seeing headlines in the newspaper tomorrow: "GARDENING SUPPLY TYCOON H.A. KNELL MURDERED WITH OWN TOMATO PEN: Oh, the Irony" (Related stories: "Reptile World Mourns Loss of Snake King;" "Pillsbury Begins New Mascot Search Following Poppin' Fresh Disappearance;" "No One Gives a Fucking Shit About Travo")

True story: Once, I was in the car with my parents, and we were driving past a field or something, and I was like, "Man, what is that? It smells exactly like Harve!" And my dad was like, "Harve smells like manure?" Apparently so. I don't want to grow old solely for that reason. His body has begun to decompose already.

So, modifying my half-assed theory about social class in the factory yesterday. As far as I can tell, Harve and the other people in the office are the wealth middle class, Doughboy and Travo are the artisans (or consider themselves to be because winding requires sooo much more fucking skill), and I am the unskilled worker because anyone can weld bleh bleh bleh. Oh, whatever. I think I am pretty damn impressive all things considered. At welding, I mean.

I decided that I would attempt to be productive when work finally ended (and it took a while, even trying really hard not to look at my watch). First, I went to Blockbuster to see if they had Dark Angel there because Kyle is never going to leave me alone about it. No dice. Then to Wal-mart for cookie supplies and a search for more Avril posters. The Plano Tropical Sno is now open, so I could theoretically have it every day of the week now. We'll see if they have drip cups first. Got home, cleaned out old car, did what little exercise I feel I need to do, went to the store again (although they didn't have eggs, which I find bizarre... grocery stores always have eggs! Like, whenever someone has a generic shopping list on a TV show or something, it's like, "bread, milk, eggs." The holy trinity, if you will. No eggs = a line), read a bit, ate chicken picatta, wrote letters and baked cookies while watching She's All That. Well, it's pretty productive for me anyway. There's still lots I want to do, though. I just need boundless energy. This requires sleep, so no.

-What was that?
-I was busy.
-Yeah, busy wiggin'.
-I did not wig.
-Oh, there was major wiggage.

Now, THAT'S dialogue! Stupid boring diary. I think I'll go to sleep shortly. BARRY WHITE IS DEAD?! :( It just goes downhill. On the plus side, I found this drunken e-mail from an IMPE sub:

"hey nate--ik jsut making sure you can still sub of rme on the 26th right?:"

That makes it pretty worthwhile. "I hear more than I'd like to / So I boil my head in a sense of humor / I laugh at what I cannot change / And I throw it all on the pyre again"