(no subject)
My one, truest talent was discovered by me today. And sadly, it doesn't involve a 1-800 number. I never felt so proud, nor have I ever felt so ... gay. I can decorate. Yes, somehow in my drunken stupers with my hair reaching greater heights than that of Robert Smith's I picked up the talent to design a plateau with home furnishings. I was told to make an endcap today. An endcap is what is at the end of each aisle. I was given a bunch of Christmas ornaments and decor and what I made was Citizen Kane. I wrapped up boxes in Christmas paper, stylized and caterorgized items and in the end, with blood, sweat, and tears streaming down my face I felt full-filled. This, my friend, is what Martha Stewart felt when she realized that she was such a bitch.
I am a mature, responsible, smart, older looking boy thus according to the drunken cashier who came into work today. What she failed to mention is that I'm also the person that everybody tells everything to. If your sister's pregnant I can bet you fifty dollars that I will be the first to know. Having not said this she opened the flood gates exposing that she was indeed drunk, and dibble daddled with the crack last night. Umm ... you do want your job, right ... right? At least it makes my life interesting. If not for her you would be reading about my cat right now and girl, you would not believe how much she's been sleeping.
Steve and Kyle may be getting an apartment together. This is very bad news for my liver.
Halloween really does bring out the spooks. I saw Bill. Drycleaner's Bill. There must have been a hint of jasmine in the air because I didn't sense his stench. He came up behind me and said 'hi.' Immediately I was paralyzed by his ever growing mullet. Medusa's stare has no power compared to the flowing Weeble-ness of this man's crusty hair.
Work has been getting better. Although, I'm sure soon that it'll be getting worse. Everything does.
I really like the new Depeche Mode.
I am a mature, responsible, smart, older looking boy thus according to the drunken cashier who came into work today. What she failed to mention is that I'm also the person that everybody tells everything to. If your sister's pregnant I can bet you fifty dollars that I will be the first to know. Having not said this she opened the flood gates exposing that she was indeed drunk, and dibble daddled with the crack last night. Umm ... you do want your job, right ... right? At least it makes my life interesting. If not for her you would be reading about my cat right now and girl, you would not believe how much she's been sleeping.
Steve and Kyle may be getting an apartment together. This is very bad news for my liver.
Halloween really does bring out the spooks. I saw Bill. Drycleaner's Bill. There must have been a hint of jasmine in the air because I didn't sense his stench. He came up behind me and said 'hi.' Immediately I was paralyzed by his ever growing mullet. Medusa's stare has no power compared to the flowing Weeble-ness of this man's crusty hair.
Work has been getting better. Although, I'm sure soon that it'll be getting worse. Everything does.
I really like the new Depeche Mode.