ani d and a cup of tea
The other day at work, as I was bundled on the floor taking an exceptionally unruly pile of Bibles off of discount, our resident Office Rat jumped out of the magazine section and lunged over a man’s foot as though it had some place extremely important to be and was pushing late. The man stared down at his recently scurried-over foot, glanced at me in a reproachful manner, and calmly put down the magazine he was reading. Without a word, he walked out.
When I relayed the story to my manager, I thought she was going to die of excess nostril-wheezing. Then she told me to get back to off-discounting those Bibles. The word of the lord is no longer saving you 30+10%.
The Office Rat makes the occasional appearance in the store, though it generally prefers startling lunching employees of the storage and office area. The only other time I remember it coming out in the store was when I was up front with The Cute Funny Now-Ex Manager Girl. We heard a violent shriek, and then silence.
She turned to me with the flattest face you can imagine on a human being and said, "Did somebody just break their fucking neck in my store?"
Just thought I’d share.
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Alpo just jumped twenty feet in the air because the tissue in a box of facial tissue moved unexpectedly. I’m not sure what she was investigating in that particular area, but she has decided that tissue waving in the wind without her consent just ain’t what she signed up for.
She has resumed her daily routine of chasing the ghosts of ants across the floor in such a lively manner that the folk downstairs refer to it as "playing football."
I can’t really blame her, I’ve done worse when I was bored and/or caffeinated.
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There’s a punchline to everything when you’re in a good mood.
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So I haven’t been up to much besides work, work, sleep on occasion, work and watching an unseemly amount of Deadwood. The latter is usually the highlight of my day, though it often results in everyone in the house walking with a decided swagger, talking with a twang, and every so often violently referring to one another as cocksuckers and launching creatively lewd quarrels that have no foundation whatsoever. Good times, cocksucker motherfucker, good times.
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Netflix just asked if I wanted to go back to them for $4.99.
They totally want to have sex with me.
You know, they hold your queue for two years after you leave.
Optimistic bastards. But, you know, people are like that. Hopeful.
You hold on to the idea of a thing for so long, years sometimes, and you just can’t shake the sweet vision of it actually happening. Until one day, you get rudely awakened by Uncle Reality. The one who always sends you crap Christmas presents in the mail, more to make sure you remember him than the other way around. And the vision slips away. One day you try and go back to the old idea, and it’s unfamiliar all of a sudden. You can’t slip back into the fantasy, the hope just ain’t what it used to be.
And that’s when you start laughing at how lame you were.
I’m not in love with an ideal, and it feels wonderful.
And now I just want to buy a cute girl a drink and make out with Seth Bullock's moustache.
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you are a miracle but that is not all
you are also a stiff drink and i am on call
you are a party and i am a school night
and i'm lookin' for my door key
but you are my porch light
When I relayed the story to my manager, I thought she was going to die of excess nostril-wheezing. Then she told me to get back to off-discounting those Bibles. The word of the lord is no longer saving you 30+10%.
The Office Rat makes the occasional appearance in the store, though it generally prefers startling lunching employees of the storage and office area. The only other time I remember it coming out in the store was when I was up front with The Cute Funny Now-Ex Manager Girl. We heard a violent shriek, and then silence.
She turned to me with the flattest face you can imagine on a human being and said, "Did somebody just break their fucking neck in my store?"
Just thought I’d share.
-------------------------------------------
Alpo just jumped twenty feet in the air because the tissue in a box of facial tissue moved unexpectedly. I’m not sure what she was investigating in that particular area, but she has decided that tissue waving in the wind without her consent just ain’t what she signed up for.
She has resumed her daily routine of chasing the ghosts of ants across the floor in such a lively manner that the folk downstairs refer to it as "playing football."
I can’t really blame her, I’ve done worse when I was bored and/or caffeinated.
-------------------------------------------
There’s a punchline to everything when you’re in a good mood.
-------------------------------------------
So I haven’t been up to much besides work, work, sleep on occasion, work and watching an unseemly amount of Deadwood. The latter is usually the highlight of my day, though it often results in everyone in the house walking with a decided swagger, talking with a twang, and every so often violently referring to one another as cocksuckers and launching creatively lewd quarrels that have no foundation whatsoever. Good times, cocksucker motherfucker, good times.
-------------------------------------------
Netflix just asked if I wanted to go back to them for $4.99.
They totally want to have sex with me.
You know, they hold your queue for two years after you leave.
Optimistic bastards. But, you know, people are like that. Hopeful.
You hold on to the idea of a thing for so long, years sometimes, and you just can’t shake the sweet vision of it actually happening. Until one day, you get rudely awakened by Uncle Reality. The one who always sends you crap Christmas presents in the mail, more to make sure you remember him than the other way around. And the vision slips away. One day you try and go back to the old idea, and it’s unfamiliar all of a sudden. You can’t slip back into the fantasy, the hope just ain’t what it used to be.
And that’s when you start laughing at how lame you were.
I’m not in love with an ideal, and it feels wonderful.
And now I just want to buy a cute girl a drink and make out with Seth Bullock's moustache.
-------------------------------------------
you are a miracle but that is not all
you are also a stiff drink and i am on call
you are a party and i am a school night
and i'm lookin' for my door key
but you are my porch light