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| Whoa-ho, Thank Heaven for Vagina Slime Lights |
| 03.31.04 (1:53 pm) [edit] |
I don' t know if I;ve got much to write about at this point in the day.....
I got a call early this morning from a woman who I babysit for sometimes and she's got some friends who own a furniture store. apparently they are looking for help, and she thought of me because she is so sweet and thoughtful and wonderful. She gaev my name to her friends, and I got in touch with them and I am supposed to have an interview/chat/applicatio n process thing whatever tomorrow after I get outta that job that I just love, Quizno's.
Have I mentioned the bacon incidents? Yeah, I have been there for a little over a month now, I [b]"shouldn't be making any mistakes anymore"[/b]. I[b] "should know the sandwiches by now". [/b]I [b]"should know what type of bacon goes on which type of sub by now[/b]". Two screw-ups and boy I am just the scum of the earth! These people are insane. If someone never comes back to that Quizno's simply because they got bacon strips instead of bacon chips, well, they really need to check theyself. And if that's their big gripe about the world, then they are doin' good. And if the [b]CRAZY[/b] booses cannot see that, and continue to run this place like a goddamn factory-no-i mean a goddamned error-free (unless its them that made a mistake-that's o.k.-they're only human) machine-well, [i][b]I'M OUTTA HEAH[/b].[/i] Hopefully I get the furniture shop job. That would rock.
Hmmm....I keep wanting to come to the computer so I can write write write--but now that I am here-and it is late afternoon and I am tired--I just don't know where the inspiration is supposed to come from.
Here's some stuff i journaled this morning:
Oh yeah, I wanted to mentioni all the fantasies that surge through the non-stop movie reels of my brain. This happens to me most when I am walking somewhere by myself. Or sitting somewhere by myself. Like right now I want a cigarette so badly, and all I keep picturing is some hot little butch gal, walking up to this coffee shop, making eye contact with me, smiling. Walking into the shop. 3 mintues later walking out, pausing....Her strong hands curling around an equally strong cup of coffee...Walking up to my table and asking "is this seat taken?" Without even waiting for an answer, she sits down and pulls out a pack of camel lights. She tilts the pack towards my incredulous but calm face, I nod in silent approval. She takes two out, sticks one in her mouth, one in mine. She brings her scuffed-up Zippo to flame, and dances the flame to the tip of my camel. I inhale, sucking in the dry, familiar taste. My eyes are looking up at her from the angle my face is at--kind of a sly, "come on..." look. She lights her own cancer stick without flinching; without removing her big eyes from mine. I bat my eyelashes absent-mindedly. I am suddenly wearing a black maribou boa, my black flapper dress' beads are clinking against the iron chair I'm seated in. The sound is reminiscent of my old wind chimes. It is vaguely comforting. She is in a pinstriped suit, a crisp white button-up shirt with black leather suspenders. This Butch and I exhale at the same time, which incites mutual smiles.....
So I want a cigarette real bad, but no-one here is unhealthy enough. Everyone rides bikes or has very nice cars (Jettas, BMWs, old Mercedes, etc.). They're all drinking happy coffees and enjoying the prime of their 20s and 30s with bottled water and obssessively clean appearances. Even the slightly more "hip"-looking people have brand new browna nd yellow suede Adidas to match his brown and yellow Old Navy "vintage" t-shirt(or something entirely more expensive; couture and disgusting). They've got wrists swathed in those cool new sweatbands (cuz they weren't worn out in the 80s) and cell phones--gabbing with each other about new businesses, taxes, and their latest personal achievements.
I am just a Nervous Energy Person in the morning when I drink so much of this coffee that is more like crack thatn caffeine.
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