Eight. (Day 4)

I'm sitting here in my intro to computer class and really, really close to beating myself in the head with my keyboard. I'm not sure if it's because I have nothing to do for the next remaining half hour, or the fact that my teacher pulled out the clip-on i swear she bought from my job (CVS people, not a hair place) or the fact that about three-fourths of the people in this class are....idiots. Yeah, I think it might be all three too.

So I'm phoneless. Apparently, that's what happens when your sister strategically breaks her phone before she heads to cali for a week. OH WELL, not responsible for what my hoes send. LOL. No seriously I get some pretty interesting picture messages. I sent messages to everyone telling them not to hit up my phone. Cause I don't need my sister coming home saying that she was harassed repeatedly while she was out there lol.

Ok, I'm tired of writing today. sorry if I didn't make you guys laugh, but I have nothing to laugh about at the moment. Not much to talk about 1025 in the morning. Oh yea. It's HOT as Satan's Sauna outside! yea, I know you guys liked that. Hell is SO last summer. lol anyway, yesterday i felt like I was gonna melt, and today I might just spontaneously combust. alright i'm done for now. i'm sure as the day goes on i'll come up with something really random, really stupid, or really hilarious to talk about.

Seven. Part Two.

Okay, so where was I? so "The One." What the hell is that anyway? "True Love." Come again? I'm sorry to say but such concepts belong in two places. The chick flicks/daytime tv shows they're pulled out of, and the asscrack of whoever came up with such nonsense. Why is it nonsense because this is what it boils down to:

The One
Now- I love you now and want to jump your bones as many times as I can in one day
Later- You're lazy, fat, annoying as hell, and I hate your guts. Jump in front of gunfire for me.

True Love
Now- Till death do us part.
Later- I'm going to stab you in the heart. And then bury you. In a volcano.

Cynical? Hell yes. It's okay, you know it's funny.

Seven. "The One"...or lack thereof.

Gosh, am I getting into the habit of titling my blogs? That wasn't the intention lol. Ok, next one, I'll get back on track. Did I just use "Gosh"? What the hell lol? I have this tendency of using the weirdest language ever. I can speak broken english, slang, proper english, specks of Spanish, and corny words simultaneously. Sometimes in one sitting. It's gay really. Ah, that's where I'm going to start.

So this is a retro rant. Yesterday, me and my lesbian assistant manager had this discussion about the term "gay." Obviously we don't really get much done when we work the same shift lol. Anyway, I was complaining about this really dumb, rickety, cheap ass cardboard stand that was supposed to hold like 30 tiki torches. I doubted that thing would last a week and figured we'd have more success laying them on the floor. So i said the stand was "gay" and caught myself because my manager is gay lol. So I said to her, "I wonder how a gay person feels when they hear somebody say that." And she said, "Well how does a black person feel when a derogatory comment is made about them?" And then I thought and said, "Yeah, but when you think about it, calling something "gay" really makes no sense. In essence it has absolutely no meaning and isn't referring to a person, and yet it's still used." Then we got talking about that. And I came to the conclusion that calling an object, "gay" served no purpose. Unless you're a "hetero extremist" who's homophobia has caused an inner hatred of homosexuals and thus an insecurity in one's self. Whoa. How bout I just lost the will to write. Why? Let what I just wrote sink in. Good night lol.

**Memo to self: "The One" and "Writing"

Six. *Grumble Grumble* (Day 3)

That's the sound my stomach is making right now. Apparently putting a slice of pizza in the oven and forgetting about it is a bad thing. Who knew? I ended up tossing about my shoulda-been-perfect-but-now-midnight-crispy pizza in the trash, and it kinda ruined my appetite. So I'm sitting here, with my stomach saying to me, "Grumble Grumble." Good times.

Speaking of grumbling, I just got home from work and once again realized how much i hate people. Retail is a bitch. Literally. I had this lady come in and get mad at me because she couldn't read a price tag properly. Then proceeded to argue with me that every other flavor of COUGH DROPS was 5o cents cheaper, so that should be too. Fifty cents. Yes, I understand we're in a recession, people, but if you're so broke that 50 cents is going to put you into bankruptcy, perhaps you should stop going clubbing every weekend. Or turn off your electricity when you're not using it. Or hell, stop giving your kids lunch money. That should solve the problem real quick.

My favorite customers are the ones that come in for protection. They're hilarious. They fall into two categories, the first of which being the realli ashamed ones. They come in, shuffle down to the contraceptive aisle, shuffle back to the front counter and hastily throw the condoms onto the counter. Before you can breathe, they make it a point to make sure you triple bag the shit just in case Superman is waiting for them outside. Or, if they can't find them, they whisper it, like church people do when they're talking about something sinful. Then you have the bold ass people who feel they have to start a conversation about what they're buying. Yes, I see you're buying Magnums, but considering you're a dude walking in there with your homie just to buy condoms, stop pretending they're for you. I know you're gonna be putting them on him in about fifteen minutes. Yes, I see you bought the variety pack. I also see you brought in the hooker you pick up every two weeks to use them on. Yes, you bought the jumbo pack. But why buy the most expensive pack of rubbers when you were just bitching to pharmacy about how much your Viagra cost?

Speaking of Viagra, we get all kinds of people that stop by the pharmacy. Likewise, we get all kinds of stupid people who can't read signs. Such as the big ass sign before you walk in, and the one chilling by pharmacy that tells you it closes at 6 o'clock on the weekends. Of course, they walk all the way to the back, then back to the front and ask, "Your pharmacy is closed?" No, the huge locked gate and no pharmacists is just screaming, "We're open." Then there's, "What time do they close?" Mind you, I answer this question to the same, sick, delusional, crabby people every weekend. "Six." Then they either seem disappointed, really mad, or they want to plead their case: "I am dying from a mysterious rash, and I have fingernail cancer and anal blockage." "No, you're just hypochondriatic, haven't cleaned your nails in a few weeks, and you're constipated. Go home and come complain if you must tomorrow. They open at 9." That's how I wish I could respond.

This is precisely why a people profession isn't for me. So I think I'll be a writer, lock myself up somewhere and laugh at people from a distance, cause let's face it, that's when they're funny. Cause you don't have to deal with them. Once you get up close, you feel like hitting them with the first thing you lay your eyes upon.

Five.

So me and a friend of mine had a pretty pointless conversation about "anger management." Well more like throwing phones at people, e.g. Naomi Campbell. He told me how he was frustrated with Twitter (dear god, another reason NOT to communicate in person) and how it don't work right cause he has no friends. I told him that I was gonna join anyway, so i'll be his first friend and that he doesn't have to throw his blackberry across the room. Hence, everyone's favorite crazy supermodel bitch came into play. And he told me he has thrown a phone, which is hilarious cause I've come close at one point or another. Why? Because people are generally idiots, with one finger up their nose and their entire head up their ass. So, clocking someone in the head with a phone would definitely make me feel better. On top of that, I have the world's most indestructible phone (it's fallen down a flight of stairs, soared across a room, sat overnight outside in the rain, etc) and so after dislodging it from somebody's forehead, i'd still be able to call my best friends and find out if anime movie night is still on. ANYWAY we eventually got on the topic of how hitting somebody with a car would be so much better. And how dragging them would add to it. So I have the rope. He has the car. Who wants to be first?

Random conversations are the best.

Four. (Day 2)

The sun is killing my eyes at the moment. I wish I was still sleeping. Why aren't I? Cause this morning I'm teaching tae kwon do to preschoolers at this daycare. Not a bad gig considerin I get paid 25 bills for half an hour twice a week. That's food money right there....for those expensive broke down vending machines. Lol. Anyway, I really just want to sleep. I'm a recovering flu addict. Because it won't leave me alone. Apparently I inhaled several strains of the flu at once, and I'm getting hit back to back. I've been sick for a week now. And every time I think I'm getting better...I wake up suffocating on my own nasal drip. Woohoo. You should see the bucket I keep by my bed. NO, not really, but at this point I'm seriously considering it. So after teaching class...I have to go to class. My public speaking class. Only 50 mins, but when you're nose is working for J.T. and crying a river, it's more like 3 hours of hell. I woke up in a very sour mood if you couldn't tell. Grrr. I think I'll just plug in my Mp3, download some rock music, and blast it as loud as possible to piss people off. Then, anyone unlucky enough to say something to me will receive a nice helping of nose jizz. Flu Flem. Whatever. I'm done writing. Time to grab some Cini-Minis and a bottle of tequila. Peace out.

Three.

Alot of things go through my head everyday. Unfortunately, the majority of the people around me are mentally incapable of handling it all. Thus, i'm forced to stop my usually random but valid trains of thought at this rejectified station that I have created. Anyway, it's crossed my mind just about five seconds ago a question....why is different so bad? Why is it treated with such a negative connotation?

I find it quite hypocritical how we can live in a capitalist society based off of competition and diversion...and yet when someone decides they want to step out of "the box", there's a problem. We can take pride in liking Lucky Charms over Fruit Loops, but when someone takes pride in being Baptist over Roman Catholic, Homosexual over Heterosexual, or fat instead of skinny, there's a problem? Go capitalism.

It kills me when people single one another out for differences because it's those differences that makes us interesting and even remotely bearable to one another. If we all liked the same foods, shared the same religion, freak nastied with the same kind of people, weighed the same, had the same hair, clothes, etc, we'd be nothing more than a bunch of gray blobs that would have more fun humping ourselves than living. Not to mention we'd want to murder one another a zillion times more than we do on any given day.

I have personally been singled out for liking to rock a mohawk over a ceasar. For enjoying rock music and jazz over rap. For drinking, for singing, for writing, for living how I please. The fact that my life affects so many other people's existences is heartwarming. Or nauseating. Or both.

Bottom line is, if people stopped spending so much time wondering about others and judging them for the things that are different about them, maybe they'd have more time to look in the mirror and judged the "most fucked up" or "most pathetic" thing this world has to offer. The real reason behind why they can't get over the decisions other people make. The real reason behind why they can't accept that some people like to just live. Damn that reflection.

Two.

There's something about Thursdays that really seems kinda epic in a way. Not heroic epic. More like anticlimactic, fuck my life, it should be Friday, but it isn't kinda epic. Like I woke up at the crack ass of dawn this morning, for reasons unknown (=P) and somehow made it to class. Let me tell you something about my 9:30 AM intro to computers class. Apparently I was extra wicked last semester, so Jesus decided to set me up in purgatory. Try sitting in front of a computer, and learning NOTHING. Why? Cause your teacher, who's name is Dike by the way, has this amazing ability of saying nothing in an hour and twenty minute lecture. She is of some African/Caribbean descent, but went to London for a few years, so her accent is like this bootyscratch voodoo stick up my ass type thing. In other words it's bad. And everytime she speaks, she talks like we're remedial. Not to mention with an attitude. But the thing is, she makes no sense. I learned more about myspace and facebook than I did about word processors and website creating. Anyway, me being the Libra that I am, I challenge her every chance I get. See, where she's just pompous, I have this profound ability to be both sarcastic and condescending at the same time. Trust me, working at CVS, it's a necessary skill. Anyway, I pretty much destroy everything she tries to say within seconds, and she shuts the hell up. Now, I know purgatory is supposed to make me suffer, but I actually enjoy it! Sure, I'm probably sealing my fate, with a shiny seat waiting in hell for me, but I heard it's a party down there. What he doesn't know is my two best friends are coming with me, so we shuttin that operation DOWN.

I think the suppliers of college vending machines should be sued. I don't know about you, but 80% of college students are broke as hell. Flies zoom out my wallet whenever I open it. Our idea of a fancy meal are those packs of ramen noodles we keep in the kitchen cabinet. Or under our dorm matresses. As much as college is these days, those Lil Debbie snacks need to be free. If not, then how bout fixing them? I put a dollar twenty five in the vending machine the other day cause I really, really wanted the world's smallest pack of Swedish Fish. But the damn thing didn't turn when I put the money in! That was my last dollar and twenty five for the next few days after that. Then today, I put a dollar in one machine to get change to put in the other cause i was thirsty. The first machine would not give me my change. So I was forced to get a Rice Krispies Treat instead. So while my mouth was snap, crackle, and poppin, my throat was turning into sandpaper. Good times.

Last but not least, makeshift handymen are hilarious. Take my steppops. He's been fixing our bathroom for the last....hmmm.....month and change. Hasn't even finished the shower yet. Just now, he was hammering, and suddenly i heard him say, "Goddamit!....Shit!....Muthafucka!!" with like thirty angry grunts in between. It was like something out of a bad porno, BDSM style. So I'm laughing. Wrong? No. The golden rule for stepparents is as follows: They get NO sympathy.

One.

What's up world! Yeah, so this is the first post in my second blog. I'm gonna try to be a little more faithful to these things lol. Seriously. So the other one is more artistic. Poetry, little nuggets of wisdom, maybe music videos and pics eventually. But for now, it's my writing. Check it out! abstrakts.blogger.com. anyway, I'm trying to think of something interesting to say. But I have a knack of making nothing sound very interesting. How so? Cause you're still reading! Lol. I don't have much to talk about this late in the day. Not much happened. The usual school, work, writing, and what am I eating today combination. Seriously. Well, for the most part. Lol. Ok, my stomach hurts, which means I'm starving...which is all the time. What can I say, I like to eat. So later dudes. Gals. And Its. I promise I'll find something interesting to talk about by the next post.