cut it out, no really
2004-06-18 @ 11:03 a.m.
I don’t like having to work at work. Really. All the little elements that make my job bearable (because it’s basically cashiering at a grocery store only you don’t have to stand, and there’s no danger of being robbed) were not in place this week. One of the little elements that makes my job bearable is the ability to leave early sometimes and there was no trace of that element this week. Yes, the big grown-up girl had to work a full 40 hours and very little of it was spent fucking around. Boo-hoo.
My job is the equivalent of cashiering, but it does require more thought. The thing is that I am capable of such a higher level of thinking than my job requires that I forget how freaking tiring actually having to think and answer questions all day can be. The weights that are being used aren’t heavy –but oh, the reps! The biceps of my mind are getting buff…
I just feel like it was “no fun for lap” week and no one bothered to tell me. I am really glad it’s over, so I can attend to the crap heap I live upon. I went “up north” with girls and my parents last weekend, and it was nice and relaxing for all but no housework got done except for some laundry. My plans for the day include picking up all the flavor-ice wrappers that must be in or behind the couch because I looked in the garbage can and there have been WAY more flavor-ice Popsicles eaten than there are wrappers in there.
Part of the “no fun at all” theme included me being too tired, and lethargic to eat. Lack of fuel leads to emotionalism on my part. I bet I have harbored the delusion that nobody likes me anymore at least twice about nearly everyone. If you are one of my especially favorite people, I was probably sure at least once each day that the thrill of lap was gone and I would never speak with you again... My delusions are usually of grandeur and this paranoia has made me want to slap myself. This would be evidence that shows that lap cannot live on sunflower seeds alone (in the shell, I crack them with my teeth removing the seed with my tongue and deposit the shell in another bowl-usually an empty margarine container because my mom is all about saving those even though they don’t seal for shit. This is a skill I have honed since I was 13 and I can eat seeds in this fashion while reading a book and be contented for hours upon hours.) They should place a sticker on packs of sunflower seeds that says DOES NOT MEET DAILY NEEDS FOR SUSTENANCE.
I was scheduled for fun last night, and DID get to venture out in public to see a band (the famed “boy” of thisendup ‘s band) and it was fun, but it would have been more fun if I hadn’t of had to pick up the girls from Sal ’s at midnight. I am proud of my grown-up ability to have only two beers in the course of 4 hours, but it didn’t make me forget all my troubles. The Shockers made me grin so wide my face hurts today though. They were a blast. Their drummer got run over by a car and still somehow played the entire set in this weird back brace that looked a little like a hospital shoulder holster and was strangely sexy. It takes a good drummer to play in a band that has no bass player. It held together though, the no-bass somehow works. I even might dance next gig if I get to have more than 2 beers.
God, if this wasn’t a stupid colloquial entry. I fucking hate myself for all this catch up bullshit. At this moment, however there is no bigger picture. I have to pull myself out of all the minutiae before I become a fucking bug.