That's funny, a fly marrying a bumblebee. I TOLD YOU I'D SHOOT, BUT YOU DIDN'T BELIEVE ME!.

3:55 am, January 13, 2005

I can only say this so many ways; I DON'T READ.

Back in the day when allowance was my exclusive source of income, I joined the Quality Book Club or something. Back then, it was like 4 books for a penny (nowadays it's like six books). I honestly only joined it so I could cheaply complete my Calvin and Hobbes collection. In an amusing side-note, with one of my books for a penny selections, I chose some really lame "Erotic Fiction for Women" book that I wish I still had. But alas, it was so dumb. So dumb.

So, is this severe pain in my calves a result of my legs getting stronger from running? Or a dire medical condition that needs treatment? Counting today, that's gonna be five days in a row of running three miles. I'm happy with the progress. I may not be running it at a very speedy clip (9 and a half minute miles), but the amount of mucus I've had to expell during the running process has decreased over the days. And that nauseated feeling around lap 6? Well, that's gonna remain as long as I eat two spicey sausage dogs for breakfast every morning. Speaking of which, I believe that buzzer is calling my name.

Well, the job is for sure ending this week. I've got seven hundred bucks in the bank at the moment. I've also got six hundred bucks in the red I need to pay off the ol' credit whore . . . card. The bill for this month is for $0.00, so I figure to not pay on that until I get something solid in the way of work. I'll be paying $325 a month while getting the covered parking spot (with Jake paying $350 and getting the bigger room). And I've got a couple more 300+ dollar checks from these last two weeks. I'll be solid on rent and living for a while, and I called my temp agency for further employment with someone.

In one way, I like the idea of doing a bunch of different jobs so I can have the experience of saying I did a bunch of mundane shit. But, in another way, I liked this job for the three full months I've been there. For all the shit I talked about my co-workers, I'm gonna say this: it was all true. However! You're talking to one of the honkiest, most white bread dudes this side of the Pecos. I believe we are all in firm agreement on this. That's why it's such a surprise to note that the only people I really get along with and have fun with are the few, the proud, the Black people who work there. Ahh, such acceptance into the Black community I have not felt since Elementary school.

I'd like to say it's about time, but let's look at the tape. In the dorms? OK, year 1 there was one black guy and he was gay. Year 2, if I remember correctly, that was what's his name? The football player. Fuck, I'm gonna get it for this. Anyway, he was WAY too fucking cool to be seen around me. My only memory of our interacting came during one of his hair-styling sessions in the Men's bathroom. Every month or so, he'd invite a bunch of his friends over and cut their hair, leaving the bathroom door open. Normally, if I had to go to the bathroom, I'd either just hold it or go to another floor. But, this one time. Do you ever find yourself remembering something embarassing you've done and blush about it even though it happened years ago? OK, so I REALLY couldn't hold it in. Dogs on the Prarie haven't had it this bad. I knew he was in there, but I didn't care. Yep, WHAT'SHISNAME (I think it starts with a J . . . Jamal? No, fuck.) and his friends got some great audio of my bowel activities. Then, it's on to Year 3. Derrick, the R.A. Come on! That guy's as honky as they come! Seriously, if you gave that guy a white hood and a torch, he'd probably STILL give you a hearty chuckle and then go off and lift weights with Zack for a few hours. GREAT R.A. as he was almost never there. Wait, check that, that was Year 4. Can't forget Zack's douchy ass came in with the Freshman class of 2002. Umm, so yeah, I think that's it for the four years. There may have been one or two more, but you get the idea.

All I'm sayin' is back in the day, I used to be down in the hood with the brothas in Tacoma. Of course, at work, I've been accepted because I watch BET and Maury Povitch on breaks from time to time (whenever the white women are out of the room, because they honestly can't handle it).

So, yeah, two more days of working at this place. One thing I'm grateful for (why don't they spell it GREATFUL, since great means superior, grand, and enthusiastic; and grate means "to irritate or annoy persistently" much like the spelling of the word grateful!) is not having to go to bed so fucking early. Well, I don't really HAVE to. I just go to bed when I'm tired. But, I wouldn't be so tired if I didn't have to get up at 4am every day. Granted, I have to work at 7am, but I have to leave at 6am so I can get there on time. That leaves me the first hour to eat and fart around, and the second hour to run and shower off the stink of another run. Lost in everything, for the most part, is contact with people on my Buddy List who again, for the most part, find themselves online minutes (but more likely hours) after I've toddled off to bed.

Rest assured, Friends of Steve, if you need your Steve-fix after this week, it shall be much easier. That's right, everyone, you can knock another body off the ledge. As much as it PAINS me to say this, since I've lived my whole life rejecting these things for the tools of the devil they truly are, my cell phone is in the mail.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Yes, typing out my screams are much more healthy. OK, so I don't even know how to use a fucking cellular phone. I'm the HUGEST rube when it comes to these things. But, I knew if I didn't get one, I'd have to be a lame-ass and get an apartment-phone-for-one. Seriously, who does that? Who ARE those people? Oh yeah, I'm lookin' RIGHT AT YOU big daddy!

Well, this post really followed a lot of tangents. I can see by the amount of Iced Tea in my cup that it's time for me to go. I shall bid all you fockers a fond and funky fairwell. Stay strapped.

Current Mood: Hey, all right
Current Music: Mötley Crüe - Primal Scream

another one bites the dust
(Anonymous)
2005-01-13 06:56 pm (local) (link)
Looks like only me and The Vers are left. And theres nothing wrong with apartment-phones-for-one. By the way, his name is Jelani and I dominated him at Madden.