05/25/2004 - 2:19 p.m. | I like very much Chat :P

Spritz is in the shower, more or less forcing me to write this diary entry. Good move, old bean. Because, of course, the world does all revolve around plans to get me to do shit. Fortunately, this should just be one quicky, bitchy entry and then we can move on with ourselves. S'alright? S'alright.

Sometimes one forgets how good adequate rest can be. Sleep seems so dumb in my mind, but I guess it does work. "You lie there with your eyes shut for some hours and you drool a little (or I do), and then you open your eyes, and you feel tons better." Yeah, makes sense. Slow starts are great, too. OK, actually anything with doing very little over a very long period of time is pretty excellent. It took me prolly an hour + just to lurch out of the chair and make the trip to the grocery store like I'd been planning. I'm such a sucker for what I estimate to be some sort of a deal in my mind. "Capri Sun 2 for $4?!! This surely must be done!" Therefore, I bought gallons and gallons of liquids to be poured down my throat and/or possibly be stolen. When I came back, Kyle and Spritz had congregated in the hall, scratching their balls. Classy friends, yes. In possibly about the greatest undertaking we've made in a week, we cooked a big pot of wheel pasta. Fuck waiting for the water to boil. Just dump the shit in at the start. We'll get this down to a five minute process yet. Maybe if we boil the noodles in the sauce itself. And then, paranoid that the pasta would burn or something, they added in dollops of Country Crock, which sort of just floated there like little phlegm icebergs.

Once in a great while, I take stock of those things that materialism would have me have. So far, we have a blue mandolin and a tiny digital camera. It could be much, much worse. And, I guess, there's the things I actually need but ignore, like a replacement for Doc Ock. Last summer, I had the odd drain on my funds that were Avril Lavigne posters; this summer, even stranger, I'm buying a lot of clothes. I suppose this is because I'm going through another change in my, er, "look." Yeah, fuck that term. Anyway, it's only happened a few times. Freshman year of high school I was all about solid color t-shirts, usually green or brown. I briefly thought of Hawaiian shirts, got owned by Chris Jones, and floated for a while until I discovered Happy Picnic Shirts. Did that for a bit and very gradually drifted out of that into... whatever shit I had lying around 'cause I'm too poor. Now I seem to be arriving upon some sort of faux cowboy art student thing that I don't entirely understand myself. The point is, I am shallow and fickle. The end.

It's very early to tell, but if I could pick a soundtrack for the summer, I would go with the Shins' "Chutes Too Narrow." I've been trying to come up with an adequate descriptor, but all I keep getting is "groovy." Fucking lame. Kyle and I were flicking through the channels ("Unauthorized 'Three's Company Movie'?" "Maybe") and stopped on C-SPAN2 or something because the lady on it was so cute. So now we both have firm crushes on Liz Marlantes, Christian Science Monitor Political Correspondent. I'm going to start writing her fan mail.

Toy phoned me early this morning (well, 11). I was already getting ready to say, "No, damn it! I don't want your weed!" when he asked if I could come in earlier today. Yeah, whatever. Just let me sort these files out something something grunt. So I came in and the lady who hired me (Amy) was in training our new manager. She seems to have taken a page directly out of Harve Knell's Book of Management because the similarites are absolutely horrifying. Besides the obvious lack of social skills and the jokes that come off more as searing insults, she skulks around in the back, sneaking in and out without a word to me. Worse, she does the awful thing where she says she's leaving soon and is still fucking around in the back an hour later. I know I've got an assload of pet peeves, but this one has the best chance of actually putting me in a foul mood. I wouldn't mind if you were gonna stay the whole time or if you just left whenever you wanted, but for some reason it makes me so, so mad when someone says they're leaving soon and doesn't. The closest I feel to rage, I swear.

Anyway, of any job I've ever had, I feel this one has the greatest chance of leaving me jaded. Think about what I just said. This is tough news to learn on only your fourth day. So, obviously, the forced pop radio station thing is a little bothersome (Not even their insistence on playing Jessica Simpson every half our, really - It's more the CONSTANT PLUGGING for their "Free Gas for a Year" contest. I mean, I'm glad for you guys and all to have such a swell contest, but anyone who listens to your station for more than an hour is going to have those damn plugs memorized), but most people are so unhappy and dumb and ugly, and it starts to get you yourself down. Asking for free samples and then running out immediately after. Cramming your mouth full of "free samples" and running out later. Pulling one of the handles on the M&M machine when it is obvious what will happen. "Oh, they fell out." Yes, entirely of their own voliton, shithead. I'm sure they had an incredible escape plan that involved convincing you of how delicious they are. It seemed all right on the weekend, I guess, because some interesting people came in (This one guy was obviously a little messed up and kept shaking my hand and asking my name - He seemed immensely fond of me), but the dregs of society on the weekdays are a little hard to handle. Luckily, I had been given a project - sort through and organize all seventy-two thousand of the dog stuffed animals we have on shelf. This would be tons easier if I knew anything about dogs, but I just made random distinctions instead. Oh - these are both ugly. On the low shelf for the morons to reach.

Sorry. I think most of this bitterness streams back to Amy maybe or maybe not being around the whole night. But now that I've fully trained or whatever, I'll have the store to myself and can work on my D&D campaigns without interruption. Er. I mean. My erotic literature. Which is what Dank, Kyle, Spritz, and I all sat around doing last night for three hours. Studying erotic literature. Yes. They are hilariously amoral, by the way. I'll have to be more careful from now on. Or just more of an asshole back at them.