Good Weekend/Bad Weekend
After Powersurge Marathon was completed on Friday, I went home and slept for 10 hours. It was the sweetest most gratifying sleep that anyone has ever experienced. It was like a yummy ice cream coma.
Saturday:
My kitchen was covered in chocolate from the cake I made on Thursday night/early Friday morning. It was good enough to make Mark Mallman propose marriage. I stuttered and awkwardly walked away. Smooth. I can't deal with people talking to me.
Later that night Paul and I went to the North Star Rollergirls championship bout at Cheap Skate. I accidently burned the same cd twice and had to run out to the van to get a different cd. In my haste I tried to do a little leap over a chain that was set up in the entryway to designate two different ticket lines. It was at the most a foot off the ground, but I still managed to not get enough height, which is odd as I am a prominent player in the WNBA. My foot snagged on the chain. I pitched forward and skidded along the ground like so much Slip n' Slide. Luckily my momentum was stopped when my skull made aquaintance with the metal door frame. I stood up and gave an "I'm ok" wave to the Cheap Skate employees who were fairly alarmed as it probably looked painful and a little violent. I discovered that I must have a really thick skull or an excess of brain fluid like Homer Simpson in the boxing episode of the Simpsons.
Afterward, one of the ladies stopped me to make sure I was ok. To date I am fine, and nothing seems to be wrong with me or my brain area. But knowing my luck I'll probably start forgetting the alphabet, and by the end of the month I'll be eating mashed food through a straw. If this does happen I will do my best to make sure it's after Too Much Love on the 28th. Babyface Lansky, I won't miss you robbing banks and dropping beats. Oh, the Juan Maclean too.
The derby was followed by Psycho Suzi's cheese curds. That place is in full swing patio mode, which frees up a lot of places to sit inside. I'm hoping to go there enough so all the door people know me, not just the one guy. A lofty goal, I feel.
Sunday (Today):
I worked at Barnes and Noble from noon-8:30pm. Two people called in sick and it was really busy. People were not only harshing my mellow, but they were taking it behind the building and going all "prison guard" on it.
The following dialogue is taken from the one act play "Drunken Douchebag Tries to Ask for a Pioneer Press Paper"
[Phone rings]
Me: Barnes and Noble. This is Katie.
Man: I was...do you???? ( a long pause. You could fit the entire Navy fleet in this pause) ...the paper? (mumble) Saturday???
Me: Umm. Saturdays paper? Today is Sunday we don't keep old papers.
Man: No...The Pioneer Press is on Saturday. Saturday paper (mumble/belch) on Sunday?
Me: The early edition the comes out on Saturday?
Man: LISTEN TO WHAT I AM SAYING!
Me: I am listening, sir.
My Brain: You are a fucking douchehole and I want to set your hair on fire.
After far too much time I figure out that he wanted the Sunday Pioneer Press. Those of us who work in customer service have our lives slowly wasted away by people whos brains have more holes in them than a loofa.
Other things that happen:
I have to repeatedly touch the metal strips that are attatchd to the keys for the men's and women's bathroom. They are probably covered in piss and shit and lord knows what else because people don't wash their damn hands when they use the bathroom.
Thursday:
Seeing the Girls Gone Wild bus on campus at 8:30am made me 19 types of surly. I punched the steering wheel. My roommate laughed at me. My hand hurt.
Now: (the time jumps are disorienting, no?)
I was under the impression that I could take my drug test for my new job at my leisure during my first week of work. Apparently I must take it before I start working for them, which means I have to get to the clinic BEFORE I have to be to work on Monday (tomorrow). The clinic opens at 7am and I work at 8am. I don't know about you, but I would rather start my week eating a tasty bagel than worrying if I am going to have to pee when they give me the little dixie cup to fill.
I wish they could just look inside my soul and see what a square I am. Then I wouldn't have worry about taking a drug test at 7AM IN THE MORNING.
I am surly, because I care. I care, because I love you.
Also, I'm pretty sure my Ipod died. And I'm pretty sure it's your fault.
J/K. Remember. I love you.
J/K.
Saturday:
My kitchen was covered in chocolate from the cake I made on Thursday night/early Friday morning. It was good enough to make Mark Mallman propose marriage. I stuttered and awkwardly walked away. Smooth. I can't deal with people talking to me.
Later that night Paul and I went to the North Star Rollergirls championship bout at Cheap Skate. I accidently burned the same cd twice and had to run out to the van to get a different cd. In my haste I tried to do a little leap over a chain that was set up in the entryway to designate two different ticket lines. It was at the most a foot off the ground, but I still managed to not get enough height, which is odd as I am a prominent player in the WNBA. My foot snagged on the chain. I pitched forward and skidded along the ground like so much Slip n' Slide. Luckily my momentum was stopped when my skull made aquaintance with the metal door frame. I stood up and gave an "I'm ok" wave to the Cheap Skate employees who were fairly alarmed as it probably looked painful and a little violent. I discovered that I must have a really thick skull or an excess of brain fluid like Homer Simpson in the boxing episode of the Simpsons.
Afterward, one of the ladies stopped me to make sure I was ok. To date I am fine, and nothing seems to be wrong with me or my brain area. But knowing my luck I'll probably start forgetting the alphabet, and by the end of the month I'll be eating mashed food through a straw. If this does happen I will do my best to make sure it's after Too Much Love on the 28th. Babyface Lansky, I won't miss you robbing banks and dropping beats. Oh, the Juan Maclean too.
The derby was followed by Psycho Suzi's cheese curds. That place is in full swing patio mode, which frees up a lot of places to sit inside. I'm hoping to go there enough so all the door people know me, not just the one guy. A lofty goal, I feel.
Sunday (Today):
I worked at Barnes and Noble from noon-8:30pm. Two people called in sick and it was really busy. People were not only harshing my mellow, but they were taking it behind the building and going all "prison guard" on it.
The following dialogue is taken from the one act play "Drunken Douchebag Tries to Ask for a Pioneer Press Paper"
[Phone rings]
Me: Barnes and Noble. This is Katie.
Man: I was...do you???? ( a long pause. You could fit the entire Navy fleet in this pause) ...the paper? (mumble) Saturday???
Me: Umm. Saturdays paper? Today is Sunday we don't keep old papers.
Man: No...The Pioneer Press is on Saturday. Saturday paper (mumble/belch) on Sunday?
Me: The early edition the comes out on Saturday?
Man: LISTEN TO WHAT I AM SAYING!
Me: I am listening, sir.
My Brain: You are a fucking douchehole and I want to set your hair on fire.
After far too much time I figure out that he wanted the Sunday Pioneer Press. Those of us who work in customer service have our lives slowly wasted away by people whos brains have more holes in them than a loofa.
Other things that happen:
I have to repeatedly touch the metal strips that are attatchd to the keys for the men's and women's bathroom. They are probably covered in piss and shit and lord knows what else because people don't wash their damn hands when they use the bathroom.
Thursday:
Seeing the Girls Gone Wild bus on campus at 8:30am made me 19 types of surly. I punched the steering wheel. My roommate laughed at me. My hand hurt.
Now: (the time jumps are disorienting, no?)
I was under the impression that I could take my drug test for my new job at my leisure during my first week of work. Apparently I must take it before I start working for them, which means I have to get to the clinic BEFORE I have to be to work on Monday (tomorrow). The clinic opens at 7am and I work at 8am. I don't know about you, but I would rather start my week eating a tasty bagel than worrying if I am going to have to pee when they give me the little dixie cup to fill.
I wish they could just look inside my soul and see what a square I am. Then I wouldn't have worry about taking a drug test at 7AM IN THE MORNING.
I am surly, because I care. I care, because I love you.
Also, I'm pretty sure my Ipod died. And I'm pretty sure it's your fault.
J/K. Remember. I love you.
J/K.