08/03/2004 - 11:14 p.m. | for god sakes turn around

I have a headache, and there seems to be a downward trend in the sleep-to-work ratio pie chart I've made, but I'm trying to keep at least a little regularity (Poop joke here please). This shouldn't be too long anyway. I can't really remember too much from yesterday besides getting up, working at the candy store, and coming home to sleep, but I suppose that is pretty ordinary. However, there are some things. I made a little kid cry, for instance.

Now, please, you know how much of an asshole I am, but I am also tremendously patient (some might say "wussy") with little kids. But eventually action must be taken ("Bridget's head must be farted upon" is my new idiom for it). So, these two little boys come in, and the one starts to pull on an M&M's handle. I spot him early for once, run over, and tell him not to do it because they will all spill. He continues anyway and a few pieces drop out. Fine, whatever. Just don't do it again. So, I'm doing the normal bullshit around the store, and I look over, and he's starting to look like he's gonna pull on it again. "No, really, man. Don't pull on the handle unless you're going to buy some." His friend is even telling him this. He wanders off again. Finally, I'm doing something behind the counter, and I turn around, and his hand is right under the spout, and he's trying to fill it up with M&M's. So I say, "Hold it right there. I'm going to get you a bag for those, and you are going to pay for them." He gives me this shit-eater grin and drops them all on the floor. He starts to say something like, "Oh, I won't do it again." "It's too late for that. I warned you three times. I'm going to sweep these up, put them in a bag, and you're going to pay for them." He starts backing away and goes, "Uhhh... I think my grandma's waiting for me..." and takes off out the door. I tell his friend to go grab him, and he runs off. I figure they'll both be long gone, so I grab Jane from the back, and go chasing after them. Luckily the kid was returning with his grandma, or I probably would have tackled him on sight. So, I ring up his "purchase" (88 cents) and take it out of his five, and he starts to sob. "That's the only money I have!" And everyone's all like, "Oh, poor little guy! He's gotta only be something like 7!" Fuck if I'm not mad at the state of this country by then. Listen, when I was 7 - fuck, when I was 2 - I would know not to pull on that handle for mere curiosity, and if someone specifically told me not to, it would never happen. Ever. I don't think I want to hit my kids ever, but they are going to learn at least not how to be a dickhead, I promise.

When you find my blue and bloated corpse floating in the bathtub full of bloody water and you wonder, "Why?! Why, God, why?!" maybe you should asking fucking MERGENS who has left the radio station and gone on to do some morning show bullshit somewhere else! Mergens, you fuck! Playing with my emotions like this! I was gonna go meet you at Schnucks, you two-timer! The only bright spot in an otherwise dreary world of listless Mix 94.5 DJs? "Oh, but there's always Jay Kelly." FUCK JAY KELLY MAN! He's fucking terrible! In my will, I'll make sure my waterlogged heart is sent to you, Mergens, because I certainly have no need for it myself anymore.

I decided I needed a nametag all of a sudden. A nametag and a title. So now I'm "Nate - the pleasant, if not attractive, candy store sales associate." People seem to like it. And then the store was dead, so I just read for like 2 hours. Oddly enough, Lisa stopped in for a minute, looking for a present for her new boyfriend ("You slut!" I yelled). She also sent me an e-mail about the Old 97's concert at the Vic in September (I'm going - are you bitches going?) Maybe this is how it should be. She'll just make fun little cameo appearances in my life that we can both be OK about. I would like that I think.

Oh - and then almost exactly $20 disappeared from my drawer that night, so God only knows how good my job security is right now. I mean, of course I didn't take it. $20 is a little more than three hours work. Whoopdeeshit. If I were ever to run off with some money, why not wait 'til a Saturday night or something when there's maybe a thousand bucks in cash? That's just a theory, of course. I just can't figure what else could have happened to it (I even did check my pockets, just in case I spazzed out and did it subconsciously or something). Oh, well - that only leaves the other 3 jobs I'll have when school starts. Too much job security makes me passive.

Today were 7 hours @ Hot Topic! I don't know what I did during them! Oh - I guess it was the start of the crazy "Buy $150+, get 25% off," which I am told is a deal. For employees, it means we can get $250 worth of shit for $112.50, but... um... what? Maybe it's just 'cause I'm trying to be so very thrifty, but I don't think there is $250 worth of things there that I want. Still, they made me do a little fashion show today, which was a little amusing. I am hot, skinny boy. Fuck you, I am. Well, I like my tummy a lot anyway, and it will only get better with piercings and "Abs of Steel" with Shelly.

Professionalism dictates that I am not to speak of my other employees at work, but fuck it if I ain't a rebel. Actually, I don't have a real problem with anyone at all. I like all of the managers, even if I'm not entirely sure that Angie likes me... possibly because of the crazy Japanese fold I use on shirts. I went on something of a pseudo-tirade today about how this place was supposed to be about individuality and how you might as well just suck my soul out because I have no need for it if I can't fold shirts the way I want! Anyway, we all have fun together, and the time goes by pretty quick. Some of the employees, though. Woo. A little on the boring side. Not mean or stupid or anything. Just kind of like... dressing the way they do is all the personality they have. And how boring for them, you know?

A little kid walked by the store today while I was standing near the front and said, "And that store's scary, too!" And I kind of laughed and gave his parents this, "Hey, he's probably right" sort of shrug. I mean, think about it. A guy came in today asking about where the best place to get pierced was (Like, geographical location, not physical), and I knew the answer. What kind of world is this?

Today's fun part of my job was when the new guy called and said he didn't have a car anymore and that he might be late because he'd have to skateboard to work. Jen sort of slapped her forehead and sent me out to pick him up. These are the types of missions I excel at. OK, not really, because Jen gave me horrible girl directions (Admittedly, I would give girl directions, too, though), and the place I was supposed to go to was all taped off (by the police?), but don't I feel like a ninja anyway.

Burning question: Are they called velociraptors because they are so fast? This haunts my thoughts. That and the perverted Kool-Aid Man from Dane Cook's CD. "OH YEAH. OH YEAH." All day long.

Man, girls are so lucky. We were talking today about making money, and there's the site, you've prolly heard of it, suicidegirls.com where all these kind of goth/punk chicks pose naked and you can write to them and stuff. Well, turns out that if you were to pose on it, they get like $250 per 30 photos, plus they can keep a little journal on it and ask for stuff, which dudes (Probably dudes, right?) can send to them through the site. So now Jen is thinking about maybe doing it, and I think it is an awesome idea. I mean, honestly. What's a little nudity for that kind of money? See, if I were a girl, I would totally degrade myself for money. I mean, for Christ's sakes, I ate a Mystery Pube for a quarter the other day. Showing my junk off is no big at all. I just wish that there was some sort of market for it for males to pose. NO ONE wants to see me naked, though. Seriously.

I meant to pack some, but then I just watched 3 hours of "I Love the 80's" that I have seen at least 3 times before. I had some vague excuse about wax being on the boxes? Oh - and I reached a new low. Impressed? I came home and was absolutely starving, but of course everyone had already eaten because I never tell them when I'm going to be here, plus they have lives of their own, so I just start scrounging about, looking for enough little bits and pieces of whatever to provide me the energy it would take to get some real food. An old, old key lime yogurt from the dawn of time and then the puny, stale crumbs from the bottom of three bags of tortilla chips. And no, me fishing around with my thumb and forefinger, trying to grab just one last bit of flour or corn or whatever is not the pathetic part. No, that would be when I had been chewing on a mouthful of chips for several minutes before finally realizing that there was a paper clip amongst the remnants in my mouth. A blue one. HOW EMBARRASSING

But, let's tally up the victories, OK? I got Shelly to take down that picture from her diary the only way I could: Playing to her vanity. She was all like, "You have relationship issues blah blah blah." And I was like, "No, you have a chub neck and your chin looks like someone attached this giant misshapen rock to your face, and Kyle is kissing your eye, and you both look so, so fake that it makes me want to retch." And she was like, "NO!" and made something disparaging about me, I think, but the picture is gone, so I've won. And even if she puts it back, I still have won, and you can't ever take that away from me.