Project New Leaf B-2
Entry #B-2: "Be"
Life. Is. SLOW. When. work. Is. NONEXISTENT.
Guess what? Trigonometry is cool. So is French. Fitness, not so much... but this semester could be going far worse. Though I'm not particularly geometrically-minded, trig serves as an incentive to ace so that I'll be prepared sufficiently for college calculus. Because, know what? I'm going to be a statistician.
Until then, though... I need a job. Sadly, no one is hiring, and it's very frustrating to be told be inferior scum (ie, minimum wage workers with jobs you want to kill them for) that it's "hard to find a job right now! Good luck!" I know it's... really wrong, to hate people just because you feel like you deserve a job more than they do. It's irrational and very silly. But when I walk into a nice coffee shop and there's a guy who looks like some sort of cross-eyed, drooling marmoset mixing drinks, it is HARD not to just... get all genocidal.
I'll be the Hitler of cross-eyed, drooling marmosets.
Maladjusted? Or Masterfully equipped for life's real problems? I think I'm good, either way. Because who really wants to fit perfectly in a world where marmosets make coffee?
Homework finished, studying up-to-date... it's just PEOPLE that get on my nerves, lately.
For instance. At school, I went to Blimpie's to buy a turkey wrap. Please assume that most modern food establishments nowadays consider turkey wraps in high demand and therefore deserving of a place on the menu. With that assumption, one can continue in their line of reasoning and deduce that Blimpie's would be able to make one. After all, it is a sandwich shop, Subway competitor, and supposedly dedicated to quality customer service at an affordable price. Logic is on our side when we assume these things.
"I want a turkey wrap."
The cross-eyed, drooling, aging female marmoset stares blankly at me. "I can't make one of those."
I stare at her like the inferior, sniveling life form she is. "You can't... make me a turkey wrap? You have flour and spinach tortillas. You have turkey..."
The little rodent-like laborer curls her lip in a simple-minded sneer. "I can make chicken caesar wraps, and I can make a veggie wrap. Turkey wraps aren't on our menu." She seems so smug, about being so knowledgeable when it comes to making wraps within the realm of physical possibility.
I tighten my lips, regarding the stunted and grotesque marmoset whose irrecoverable youth has left her ravaged. Marmosets just don't age well. "You mean that you literally are unable to put... turkey... on a tortilla... and roll it up for me?"
She is so set in her ways, so confident in her sandwich and wrap expertise. I hope that cockroaches eat her. "That's right, ma'am."
I am twenty years old. Probably half this marmoset's age, if not less. "Ma'am" is my GRANDMOTHER. She has just made me hate her MORE. "All right. What if, just for you, I paid extra so I could come back there, and show you how to take a wrap and put turkey on it?"
I'm really glad that those damn marmosets make the sandwiches where you can see them. Otherwise I would have checked my sloppily made, bland veggie-wrap for marmoset saliva.
Does anyone... actually know what a marmoset is? If so, can you comment and tell me? D:
Ah, yes. And a meme, because I'm supposed to post this on my journal. XD
1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll name something we should do together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.
or, I will include an icon just for YOU in my reply)
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people. Ok, must is a little strong. But it would only be fair.
Life. Is. SLOW. When. work. Is. NONEXISTENT.
Guess what? Trigonometry is cool. So is French. Fitness, not so much... but this semester could be going far worse. Though I'm not particularly geometrically-minded, trig serves as an incentive to ace so that I'll be prepared sufficiently for college calculus. Because, know what? I'm going to be a statistician.
Until then, though... I need a job. Sadly, no one is hiring, and it's very frustrating to be told be inferior scum (ie, minimum wage workers with jobs you want to kill them for) that it's "hard to find a job right now! Good luck!" I know it's... really wrong, to hate people just because you feel like you deserve a job more than they do. It's irrational and very silly. But when I walk into a nice coffee shop and there's a guy who looks like some sort of cross-eyed, drooling marmoset mixing drinks, it is HARD not to just... get all genocidal.
I'll be the Hitler of cross-eyed, drooling marmosets.
Maladjusted? Or Masterfully equipped for life's real problems? I think I'm good, either way. Because who really wants to fit perfectly in a world where marmosets make coffee?
Homework finished, studying up-to-date... it's just PEOPLE that get on my nerves, lately.
For instance. At school, I went to Blimpie's to buy a turkey wrap. Please assume that most modern food establishments nowadays consider turkey wraps in high demand and therefore deserving of a place on the menu. With that assumption, one can continue in their line of reasoning and deduce that Blimpie's would be able to make one. After all, it is a sandwich shop, Subway competitor, and supposedly dedicated to quality customer service at an affordable price. Logic is on our side when we assume these things.
"I want a turkey wrap."
The cross-eyed, drooling, aging female marmoset stares blankly at me. "I can't make one of those."
I stare at her like the inferior, sniveling life form she is. "You can't... make me a turkey wrap? You have flour and spinach tortillas. You have turkey..."
The little rodent-like laborer curls her lip in a simple-minded sneer. "I can make chicken caesar wraps, and I can make a veggie wrap. Turkey wraps aren't on our menu." She seems so smug, about being so knowledgeable when it comes to making wraps within the realm of physical possibility.
I tighten my lips, regarding the stunted and grotesque marmoset whose irrecoverable youth has left her ravaged. Marmosets just don't age well. "You mean that you literally are unable to put... turkey... on a tortilla... and roll it up for me?"
She is so set in her ways, so confident in her sandwich and wrap expertise. I hope that cockroaches eat her. "That's right, ma'am."
I am twenty years old. Probably half this marmoset's age, if not less. "Ma'am" is my GRANDMOTHER. She has just made me hate her MORE. "All right. What if, just for you, I paid extra so I could come back there, and show you how to take a wrap and put turkey on it?"
I'm really glad that those damn marmosets make the sandwiches where you can see them. Otherwise I would have checked my sloppily made, bland veggie-wrap for marmoset saliva.
Does anyone... actually know what a marmoset is? If so, can you comment and tell me? D:
Ah, yes. And a meme, because I'm supposed to post this on my journal. XD
1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll name something we should do together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.
or, I will include an icon just for YOU in my reply)
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people. Ok, must is a little strong. But it would only be fair.