09/15/2004 - 1:27 a.m. | so we'll just wait in pain

So I've been doing some thinking. I know, "Har, har! Don't strain yourself," and so forth. Another zinger, imaginary internet audience. I dunno, man. I don't really like to quit jobs because it makes me feel guilt, but I've sort of had it with that candy store. I was sent home for part of my shift today to iron my shirt. Repeat: TO IRON MY SHIRT. And fuck, it wasn't even that wrinkly. Ironically, like any other occasion when I am unable to iron beforehand, I worried about being judged. This time, it seems, I was right. But I kind of have a bad feeling about foul play here because when I got back, both Amy and Lori were like, "We weren't sure you'd be back." It's like they're trying to do these ridiculous things on purpose, in an effort to get me to quit. Well, fuck them! I stay on until my bones rot from my face! Until that phrase makes logical sense! Well, that was the plan anyway, but now I'm just more pissed than ever. See, I really want this weekend off, and I'd already invested a good deal of time and energy (and money) getting to the point where all I had left to deal with was a rinky dink little fucking 3 hour shift at the candy store on Saturday night, and though I came to them a week early, turns out I am completely high and dry as far getting a substitute goes. Incidentally, let's compare this to my experience at Hot Topic, where they are sooooo fucking nice and flexible. I had a ton more shit that had to be straightened out there, and they just did it. Not only that, they also gave me the opportunity to make up some of the hours I'd given up, so I'd at least have some work. I swear, the Hot Topic staff are like the nicest folks in the world, and no one should be scared to go in that store ever. Stupid Amy and Lori are all like, "It's creepy in there," and maybe it seems like it a little bit, but the fact that they are so close-minded about shit makes it pretty creepy in Candytowne as well. I mean, I'm supposed to be making all these stupid concessions to the candy store - tuck in shirt, don't look in hallway, etc., etc. - and they can't even help me out with a night off when I'm in a bind. I don't know if that's the kind of place I want to work at. And maybe my expectations are too high - they certainly are with everything else - and maybe I'll never be satisfied with any job, and I'll always find some stupid little bullshit to piss me off, but I dunno. Maybe everyone's expectations should be a little higher.

So was I in a foul mood at work tonight? No, of course not, because I am the ideal employee. I rearranged some shelves (by color, alphabetically!) and was super helpful and friendly and flirted with Abercrombie big boobs chick (They are like golden pillows, I swear. If Only I Liked Them) and who ever else. It is nearly 2 now, and I am trying to go to bed a little earlier these days, which apparently means 2, but let me also make note that it was raining insanely hard today, so I wore my stupid huge raincoat to cross the guard. Michelle called me Big Yellow Idiot, and she was more or less dead on. Good thing little kids haven't quite figured out that I should be made fun of. The rain came down in torrents; the SUVs would serve their only purpose and drive through the puddles, sending waves crashing directly on my windshield. I love you all.

How to lose 9 pounds: Walk the 100 yards from the food court's electronic scale (133 lbs.) to the GNC's electronic scale (124 lbs.) It's just that simple!