I was thinking about how my plan to wait for the rest of the world to die of cellphone induced brain cancer and then travel the country raiding liquor stores and stealing cars fell apart when I bought a cellphone, so I was considering disemboweling myself just like the Samurai used to.  I decided that's been done too many times though, as cool as it is, so I developed a 3-step plan to replace my old objectives.  It goes like this:

Step 1:  Hang out until somebody invents time travel

Step 2:  Travel back in time

Step 3:  Travel back to the year 1983 and abort myself with a coat hanger

Wouldn't that be weird?  There'd be my pregnant Mom, just minding her own business someplace, probably buying groceries or something with my older brother back when he was this chubby toddler, and then suddenly this bearded guy would run up with a coat hanger and perform an abortion real quick-like, and my Mom would be all like, "WTF?" (see above) and my chubby brother would cry and his pudgy cheeks would be all red and blubbering as they became streaked with tears.  Then, even quicker than it had began, the abortion would be a success and the bearded man with the coat hanger would vanish into thin fucking air.  Since I would have never been born, I would never have traveled back in time to the grocery store and aborted myself, so maybe they would just go on shopping as usual.  I'm not sure.  I don't know all the rules to time travel because I haven't watched Back the the Future since puberty.


LONG day at work.  The day after Halloween usually is.  Trick-or-Beering went slow this year because apparently young people are getting lamer and lamer and forgetting how to have fun, so almost nobody gave us brews.  We finally cut our route short and went to a friend's kegger so that JW could shit.  We drank keg beer until pretty much everyone was gone.  My girlfriend didn't want to walk home so I called a cab, but then she decided she didn't want to wait for that so we walked home.  I woke up to her bringing me a pint of beer in the morning, which is part of why I have such a boner for her, is I feel like most girls probably don't do that for their semi-significant others.  I fell back to sleep.

I woke up fifteen minutes before my shift started and said an expletive pretty loudly.  I can't remember which one it was, but I'm pretty sure that it was either "shit" or "fuck."  This woke up the lady, to whom I explained my predicament.  I called work and let them know I would be late.  I told the supervisor who answered, "Yeah, sorry, my girlfriend has this really quiet alarm and it's way too easy to sleep through."  As soon as I said it, I realized what a shitty excuse that was for being late to a shift that started at 2 p.m., but it was the truth.  We got up so she could drive me home and then to my car.  I found parts of my ninja costume in the hallway that I didn't remember putting there, so my amatuer forensic skills suggested that I been into the idea of sleep enough to actually undress as I walked through her house.  At home I had no time for anything fancy like showering, so I just used mouthwash, changed my socks, and grabbed a work shirt.  Bec drove me to the baseball field that I'd parked my car at before I'd started drinking the night before.  It was pretty much out of gas, but I didn't have time to fuel up so I just yelled at it not to run out and drove to work.  The mouthwash hadn't really done much to mask the odor of cheap beer, so first chance I had, I went to the break room to make a concoction of tea tree oil and water that I had seen a coworker make a fews days prior.  He used it as mouthwash, and I remember it being very pungeant, much more than commercial brand, minty mouthwash.  I put the tea tree oil in my glass and then the main boss guy walked in.  We were making small talk when I filled the glass with water and it started leaking everywhere.  I noticed the bottom had a sizable chip in it.  "Dude, you should throw that glass away."  The boss said.  "Um, yeah." I said.  Since I drank beer through my ninja mask the night before, it kind of got all over my beard and face and I figured the odor was still very noticable, so in that small of a proximity with the main boss I really wanted to get clean fast.  I held a finger over the chip and started swishing and swallowing.  The boss asked if I was drinking tea tree oil and I said yeah, still shy about using very many syllables around him.  I couldn't remember if the coworker I'd seen do that had swallowed or not.  The boss said stomaches probably weren't supposed to deal with that and I said it was probably fine, but on my last pull I kind of over-tilted the glass and splashed some in one of my already completely bloodshot eyes.  I cussed more and indicated that it hurt.  He said maybe that would make me think twice about what I swallow.

"Stomaches and eyes are totally different, man."  I said, squinting.

"Are they, Jeff?...Are they?"  He said deeply before he left the room.

They made me stock a wine display, which is one of my least favorite activities even when I'm not haggard as fuck.  There are lots of glass bottles, all precariously placed, and it's at a part of the store right by the checkout lines, so there are always a shitload of customers and usually a handful of supervisors around to notice if you break something.  I was doing my little best when the same supervisor that answered when I called in yelled over at me from a register and asked if I had ever worked that display before.

"Yeah!  Why, am I doing it wrong?"  

"No, it just looks like you're struggling."

"Yeah, I'm not really good at stuff like this.  I already had that talk with another supervisor a while ago."

"Oh.  (pause)  Okay."  He was apparently satisfied as long as he knew I sucked at it, it didn't really matter beyond that.

I had to run a checkstand for a while and the other supervisor who brought my wine case cutting ability into question weeks before walked by and asked if I had cut the boxes with a butter knife again, which means that it looked like shit.  I said something dismissive because I was tired of hearing about it.  He figured out I didn't use a butter knife, though, because he found my box cutter on the floor right by the boxes and handed it to me, saying I should keep track of it before a kid found it and cut himself and then we got sued or something.  


Put that on loop for a lot of hours and you pretty much have my day.

really old months:

December, 2008
November, 2008
October, 2008
September, 2008
August, 2008
July, 2008
June, 2008
May, 2008
April, 2008
February, 2008
January, 2008
December, 2007
November, 2007
October, 2007
September, 2007
August, 2007
July, 2007
June, 2007
May, 2007
April, 2007
March, 2007
February, 2007
January, 2007
December, 2006
November, 2006
October, 2006
August, 2006
July, 2006
May, 2006
April, 2006
March, 2006
January, 2006
December, 2005
October, 2005
September, 2005
August, 2005
July, 2005
June, 2005
May, 2005
April, 2005
March, 2005
February, 2005
January, 2005
December, 2004
November, 2004
October, 2004
September, 2004
August, 2004
July, 2004
June, 2004
May, 2004
March, 2004
February, 2004
January, 2004
December, 2003
November, 2003
October, 2003
September, 2003
August, 2003
July, 2003
June, 2003
May, 2003
April, 2003
March, 2003
February, 2003
January, 2003
December, 2002
November, 2002