That spider is no hero. |5:38 PM|
I just realized something about that spider sighting, and now you can get a glimpse at my mental process:
Thought 1:
Goddamn spider.
Thought 2:
Brrr...it's chilly in this fucking warehouse
Thought 3:
Wait, it's really cool today, it's been really cold this whole week, isn't it too cold for goddamn spiders?
Thought 4: That thing was running. Running toward the vent on my dryer. My dryer vent was probably a bit warmer even if it hadn't been used in a while, since my house is warmer, and that tube isn't well insulated
THought 5: Fucking spider
THought 6: There was an odd clunking noise from my dryer yesterday, when I turned it on
Thought 7: Oh, shit, there's a goddamn spider in my dryer. Wait, if I used it, that fucker is toast. Dead, and baked.
Thought 8: Oh, shit. There's a goddamn spider rotting in my dryer.
Thought 9: I want some Peanut Butter M&Ms.
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This is Cecil, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off. |5:06 PM|
I'm trapped at work.
In fact, if Vid caught me writing this entry in the brief period that the pulled printers are being loaded into a van to be returned to the warehouse, he'd cut out my spine. Saturday was an 8 hour workday, as was sunday. Then came monday. From 8am to 11:15pm (50 minutes for lunch) I was at work. Tuesday I got out a little early, 7. I don't know when I'll get out of here tonight.
On monday night, I was walking towards the door of my apartmet as a tarantual scuttled across my path. I was so tired that instead of a more normal reaction like chasing it down and killing it with a flamethrower, all I could do was think the word "Oh."
If I get home tonight with any energy left, I'm going to throw away my bed. It's still a big pain in the ass.
Shoot, I must go. Learn old sea-shanties kids, they come in handy. I still have no idea what a "scuppers" is what a "hose pipe" does.
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Sunday, December 01, 2002
Undergroove |8:00 AM|
On this current paycheck, I'll be bringing down almost 40 hours in overtime.
And I was wondering why I was really tired for the last two weeks.
On one of the few nights Vorpal and I managed to go out, we ended up at the TGI Friday's bar. Vorpal and I were stomping ass at the free trivia game they put into bars nowadays, but then the batteries in my (somewhat hijacked) trivia machine bit the dust. It was moderately amusing to see our descent from top of the charts to the bottom of the barrel for the remainder of the evening, as the network had never been sent the logoff command.
That was the middle of the evening, the beginning and end of the evening tie together a bit better, as they were both attempts to hit on women at the bar. I lacked much else to do, since we were waiting for Ex-Marine Eric to finish flirting with a chick that at the time was high on "'shrooms". The first woman, actually, nothing really happened with her, so I'll just move on to the second. With the advice of the female bartender with whom my group is friends, I purchased 2 nice shots, and had the bartender deliver them with a message along the lines of:
"This guy bought you a shot, and would like to drink it with you. He's a good guy, I know him. Would you mind if he drank with you?"
The offer and drink accepted, I showed up and introduced myself. The conversation was going along pretty well. Except for the mention of boyfriend 3 times in the first two minutes, and the "Down from St. Louis for Thanksgiving". To be fair, once a person has been in a relathionship for as long as she had (2 years), it gets to be that few things you do aren't related in some way to your signifigant other. I didn't immediately run off like an asshole, I hung around for what I felt to be a polite period.
Thus disheartened, but wiser in the way of buying girls drinks, Vorpal and I headed out. We ended up purchasing a remote controlled snake of all things, "With realistic striking action" at Walmart. It's sitting in my trunk now, and I'm unsure what to do with it at this point. Luckily it was only $10, so I've already gotten my money's worth. What do you do with a remote controlled snake, anyhow?