Today was hil-fucking-arious. Well, actually for the most part it was dull and depressing, but a highlight emerged when my boss's step kid threw an orange at me, so I picked him up and turned him upside down. I started shaking him, and he actually started farting so I ran back and forth to escape the stench. I guess the upside down-ness, shakiness, and back and forthiness put together didn't add up too well for him, because after I set him down he made this hilarious noise and ran outside. He then proceeded to cough up bile on the sidewalk. Apparently he bacame agitated to the point where he had one of those pukey burp things, only this one was pretty big it looked like. He had to hold it in his mouth till he ran out of the store. Ha. So yeah, even though the rest of the day and life lately in general has been pretty god damn shitty, I can now reflect on some 11 year old kid puking outside the shop front simply because he threw an orange at me.
Dumpster diving with Jeremy. Superb. Our first stop supplied us with a car full of carpet with which we're going to use to sound proof my drummers garage. We dropped off the carpet and went down the highway a couple towns to some GOOD dumpsters. Scored 52 fuckin' out of state phone books and a real skanky teddy bear. Don't know what to do with them yet, so they're riding around with my fax machine and a baby stroller I found in a dumpster a couple weeks back. Soon I need to lose some inventory, though. I'll let you know if I put anything on ebay. Who knows? Maybe you'll score a phone book.
Had to get up way too early to go see a psychic lady. It's kind of a long story, but apparently she heard some things about me that lead her to believe I could channel the dead, which I cannot. She kept talking to me about being tempted by dark forces, and how the things I put in myself are damaging me. She continued to explain how marijuana coats your nervous system, and how someone with my potential shouldn't be doing that, and so on, until I raised my hand to interrupt and said, "I don't smoke pot." because I don't. Relaxing is cliche. If I did any drugs, it would be speed so I could be more productive. Until I get that bored with my life though, it's just tea and the occassional dose of alcohol for me. Anyhow, she kept insisting I was putting something in myself, and eventually she rested on the conclusion that it must be second hand smoke. This is because she was a hack and assumed I was a pothead on account of the long hair and unorthodox attire. She said that she'd been painting and that even though she's moving the brush, she can tell something from the fourth diminsion is controlling her and telling her what to paint. There was a painting above her fireplace I assumed was hers because it was really big and unsigned, and if you were going to give away a really big painting you'd probably sign it. It was of horses that weren't very good. Who comes back from the dead and posseses a middle aged woman to paint crappy horses? If that's what the spirit world is about, I'll pass.
It's a new year. Today Marcus came by my shop with a fax machine he bought for ten dollars. He was trying to sell it to the business I work for, and since I was the only one there I had to deal with him. He wanted twelve dollars for it, so he would make two dollars profit. I refused because fax machines are obsolete, stupid, and I work in a music store, which has especially little use for the most useless of machines. He was relentless though, so eventually I talked him down to six dollars and fifty cents. Therefor, he lost three and a half dollars. Which is hilarious. My boss didn't want the fax machine so I took the money out of my paycheck and now the fax machine resides in my car, probably forever.