I wish I could really just ... hock up a lunger, ya know?
I wish I could do that all the time, at will.
That would be very very nice.
I could just spit on people.
And I could gross people out. So they'd fuck off.
To explain to my sister why I needed to buy jeans the other day I said that I'd rather have brand new unwashed, strangely stiff jeans on for work (which these are) than have the jeans I was currently wearing rot off of my body.
That worked nicely on the gross out factor.
When you work in a hot gaddamned place, where you are very very active all day, the employees all sweat their asses off.
When you get denied access to the washer for 3 days, your only usable pair of jeans for work purposes starts to get a little fucking rank.
Don't get me wrong, I'll wash the other pair.
But I needed something to wear OTHER than that pair so that maybe I could increase my chances of getting them washed sometime before they become sentient and start demanding equal pay.
damn suffrage bacteria.
I'm in this really bizarre lil modd this morning.
I had odd dreams about work where everyone was who they are, but subtley different and it was just as busy as ever, but dead silent, and therefore eerie as all hell.
Imagine people in a grocery store, doing what they do, but not making eye contact and not speaking to anyone.
for any reason.
And one of my utilties was like... a drooly semi functional retarded boy all of a sudden, who's mother stood near the register and watched him... keeping him in check.
And I've only talked to him once.
He didn't SEEM semi functional
Well... I mean... he seemed AT LEAST semi functional... probably more.
I just went through the g-f mailing list and acted the bitch.
They'll wonder what took me so long.
I've been fairly quiet in general lately.
I think somehow my odd dreams found me my voice.
I'll lose it again.
I always do. But it's nice to know that it's still around.
Someone is coming to visit.
That fills me with trepidation and excitement.
I'm giddy, but scared shitless at the same time.
Not because I'm scared it will be bad, but because I know it will be good. So what the hell do I do with goodness? I'm not used to that.
Give me a fucked up situation and I can deal... Hand me something good and I'm all over it with a magnifying glass trying to find its faults.
The jewler of discontent.
Must go to work.