Thursday, March 03, 2005
Working the early shift has a few drawbacks.
Last night the company president called me to ask for a bracket. I had picked it up from a vendor on my way home earlier in the evening, so I volunteered to deliver it in Chicago after rush hour.
I called a friend since I was, you know, in the neighborhood. He cajoled me into taking a ride with him to go drink shots. I made myself abundantly clear: I must be back to my vehicle by midnight. Under no circumstances would I permit myself to miss any work the next morning. I'm covering the phones for people away on a business trip. I must rise at 5 am and deliver myself to Schaumburg by 6 am.
They rely on me here. I like my job.
So. He's in bartending school. Yesterday was his second day. He already fancies himself a stud bartender and is talking about the movie Cocktail too much. He pluralizes it and calls it Cocktails. I tried to correct him, but whatever.
So I'm gazing worriedly at an array of various fruity schnapps bottles. Queasy trepidation.
I prefer gin or bourbon. Vocally. I suppose you can't mix shots with those, unless you count hyperventilation as an ingredient. Then again, the last time I drank gin in public, (excluding last Saturday) I poured drinks over my head on purpose and lost my pants, so maybe something that tastes bad will keep me in check.
Fruity candy booze is for underage drinking. Right? Am I that out of touch? Don't answer that. Sugary drinks give me headaches and I usually end up telling dead baby jokes to Catholics. Guaranteed disaster. This time things went smoothly and I didn't make any enemies. I found no Kick Me signs affixed to my back upon arriving home.
I had a good time and we managed to leave by 12:30. Not bad. When we departed, a girl offered me a strange hot pink hat. I explained (once again) that I am impervious to cold and wear no jacket. I am the master of my environment therefore need no protection from the elements. She looked at me oddly and proceeded to jam it on my head and "bust it to the right." Her words. As we all drove away a squad of latino gangbangers pointed at me and cackled madly from the high seats of their minivan. I was so funny they clutched at the bandanas slung around their necks. The hat came off quickly.
The discussion turned to cats and I said horrible things about felines, canines, and vermin. My eyes itch just thinking about them. They are disgusting feces factories that try to moisten our faces with crotch brewed saliva. Gross.
Finally we got back to my car and I bade farewell to the bartender and the pink hat girl.
Now I want more sleep. The floor here is hard, but I think it would take electric spikes to keep me from lying on it. No one else will arrive until nine. That gives me two hours. 7:00 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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