04/15/2004 - 1:31 a.m. | you chase the promise of her glow

Stupid "work." Now I'm all sleepy all the time, and my various social functions (HAR) get in the way of each other. Darn it all to heck. OK, so yesterday I still did like jack... and a good portion of today... and definitely tomorrow. But it's still more than I'm used to. I'm actually a little fatigued now, and I have this strange desire to "eat" that we shan't discuss. SHANT. Yesterday really did just slip slide away. I did my weird little job and went to class and fudged my way excellently through a test and did my job again and read and watched the first disc of "The Critic," which I think was like nine or ten hours long. Stupid President speaking instead of redhead singing. Then I ignored homework, class, humans, etc. to work on some unmentionables until I could barely move my pencil across paper and collapsed. I think that earns my award for shortest day summary ever!

I finally took the whole 14 seconds required to tighten my bike so it isn't a wobbly piece of tornado. I'm going to take off my shirt now. Because of all the testosterone, see.

Up very early today to shower so I would be clean and gross (instead of the usual dirrty and gross) for The Buckle today. Crossed the guard, popped some pills, then waited outside on the little kids rides because punctuality is for nerds, it seems. Most of the day was just me and Shawn, who seems like hair gel all the time. And hair gel often smells like alcohol. CONNECTION!?!?!?! I sold $200+ worth of junk today, which still isn't very much in a 7 hour shift (yay $6 commission), but then I wasn't really focused on selling at the time anyway. When something we have isn't selling very well (Gasp! I know! I am nearly as shocked as you are!), I guess the idea is to ship it off to where people are dumber, which is this whole involved process where we have to track down very specific items based on a vague description (PINK SPIDER TOP!!) and a blurry JPEG and then pack 'em all up and remove tags and shit. Speaking of which, the little security sensor was going off all day, which made me laugh pretty much nonstop, unlike stupid Garbage cover of "Last Nite," which is very unlike the pristine Sugar Ray cover of "Is She Really Going Out With Him?" So anyway, I mostly did that because it was like a fun scavenger hunt that never ends while everyone else competed for sales. I keep wanting to call for arm wrestling matches, but I don't think those have quite the serious undertones that I had once thought. I think it's going to be a jungle out there, but I do believe I have the irreverence/disturbing front covered:

"Are you finding everything all right?"
".... Just looking."
"WHACHA LOOKIN FOR HAHAHA"

(Nate is digging through girls' tops)
Girl: "So, why do you have to do that?"
Me: "Oh - Well, I pick out my sister's clothes, but my parents said they were too revealing, so I have to find more modest outfits."

They don't seem to get the joke. Anyway, I think I could very well start pulling things off, but first I have to remake my pants charts becaue everything comes back to them. See, to make a sale I have to show product, but to do that, I have to know about it and what will work in any given case, and I don't think girls like giving me their size, even if I am the lowest thing that can still be considered a male. Also, shoes. I don't know why it always happens, but people always come to me with shoe things, and then I go back into the shoe stacks, which are all creepy and randomly start rolling towards me, intending to kill (smush!) And they never, ever have what they say they do, so then I go back all sad because, commission aside, finding people some shoes makes me really happy, and I don't want to let them down. I swear, I actually could be really good at this!

michelleawetzler: what are you doing
mrkrazy 11:

 
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Bravo. The one comeback I could not have expected.

Dunno where the rest of the day went. Oh, that's right. There was no rest of the day. Spritz and I went tanning and then I started following the oddly intriguing Wonder Woman Asian girl around Schucks. She was not all that pretty, but I was drawn to her. Drawn like butter. Except I don't really like that very much anymore, and I do not know what to do with myself. I stopped and thought for a second, "What would happen if I just asked her out on a date?" SHE WOULD MACE YOU. I would mace me, too, because even I know that that is strange and weird. Much like leaving a message when they've given you their number, which is practically like splattering goat's blood for your betrothed all over the new white linens. That is not a mixed metaphor because I have done it. I am comparing my life to that, all right?

And I don't care what Spritz says. I am a natural parallel parker. Hint: Did you know that the bottoms of Wendy's cups melt away after a few weeks and leave your little between the seat armrest box thing filled with salty old Dr. Pepper. Spritz says it's salty because of the mold, but who do you trust for your science factoids - some GE nerd or me? I mean, he hasn't even met Dr. Science.

One cheese? Naw, bitch. My Hamburger Helper's gotta have at least three times as cheese as that plain jane motherfuckin' bullshit. Thrice, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout. That's the rizzle dizzle. I read the bad thing, and frantically worked to finish that which must never be spoken of so that all of the flakes could arrive late. There needs to be some talkin' to's, but I keep hoping someone not me will get around to doing it. I asked my Rice Krispies to do it, but they only told me to "Crackle pop snap," and that did not work out last time. I can't believe I am getting another sore throat. You and me, Krishna. You just wait.