some lights seem eternal
in this springtime of hope

I�ve seen it all now. Well, I haven�t but I�m afraid of what I haven�t seen.

July 02, 2003
�I�m saying, Vanessa, that even crazy people like to be asked.� - Virginia Woolf, The Hours

Today lacked a major event to rally my writing around.

My morning started with me being early to work. That was out of confusion because I really try to be five to ten minutes late every day. This isn�t out of having a bad work ethic but out of flagrant disrespect for my employer and immediate supervisors. I was TWENTY-FIVE minutes early. Christine Butler nearly fell on her ass but the Secret Service was there to protect her and her booty.

While I was conversing with Christine Butler I noticed a very white trash fossil. One of dirty Jennifer�s acrylic nails had been waxed to the floor of the Guest Service Desk. Like every child with a penis I had dreamed of being a paleontologist until I learned that Science is boring. I saw the wax encased nail and pointed it out to Christine Butler and she decided that it needed to be REMOVED from the premises of her booty and so I lived my dream of finding fossils by prying that filthy piece of plastic off the ground.

I carried it around in an envelope all day and showed it to people. The fossilized nail was greeted with squeals of horror. My boss, Wendy, paged me and asked, �Are you exposing yourself again?� To which I replied, �that�s met with laughter not horror and revulsion.� Then I toddled over to Wendy�s chair and showed her, she said, �That�s disgusting � make sure you save that to show Justin.� He had the day off.

Because of a scheduling snafu there was no one assigned to guard the People�s Republic of Uscanistan, so I volunteered. I�m sure that Ted would say something nasty about me behind my back about why I did that but say something trite to my face saying how nice, funny and helpful I am. I volunteered because Jennifer Neely, her my friend.

Well, there I was, holding station on Uscanistan, when a man that didn�t indicate that he�d like help from me starting throwing bagels at myself and the Royal Crown Cola Vendor. Motherfucker threw food at me. I was beside myself with righteous white trashiness and was flailing about screaming at Rose, the woman who is security at our store to come get this man because no one throws breakfast wheat at me. Oh, hell no.

Music Video Break � Penni singing �Steve McQueen� by Sheryl Crow while dancing on top of Beaver�s Mustang in hot pants, an American flag halter and her Mire hat, backwards

Penni told Wendy today that her father was a police officer and was going to put Wendy in jail. Wendy informed Penni that Wendy�s Dad was GOD and proved this by pointing out that in The Revelation of Jesus Christ to Saint John (a.k.a. the last book in the Bible, a.k.a. the source of bad movie ideas and cult theology, a.k.a. Dana Owens, a.k.a. Queen Latifa) God is always SEATED but I don�t know how Wendy would know that considering Wendy is too lazy to read. The Eleventh Commandment reads, clearly, Thou shalt sit so that thine ass might make an imprint on your chair that it may be well with thee, and your household, and your servants and your goats. Amen.

I was again exiled to the People�s Republic of the Uscanistan (on the General Merchandise side of the store � which I insist should be called the �Christopher Stewart Memorial U-Scan�) where a gaggle of Amish men in suspenders, straw hats and beards came in, used the Uscanistan and paid with Discover Card. Stephanie (the bagger with cleavage and a personality as opposed to the girl without personality, cleavage or the ability to keep a job at MIRE a.k.a. big loser) witnessed this so it�s provable as event during the day. We didn�t think the Amish could shop at Mire much less us Discover Card at the Self Checkout Computer.

I�ve seen it all now. Well, I haven�t but I�m afraid of what I haven�t seen.

11:02 PM :: 4 comments so far ::
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