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2001-09-05 / 6:49 p.m. ~The Return of Discontent~ Oh, dear little diary, have I ever mentioned that I hate my job? No? Well, that's funny... Hey, that's a joke! Yeah, that shore was funny! I just fulfilled a food craving, and isn't that always a great feeling? Indeed, I do feel a member of a privileged class, able to buy a Double Whopper With Cheese and consume it in my own shelter. I am American, I earn a living, and I am free. So what do I have to complain about? Man, that was good, and to top it off I'm now drinking a Laughing Skull Pilsner, brewed locally, thank you very much. Look for them wherever your favorite beverages are sold. I have a Laughing Skull story, actually, well, kind of. You see, I used to be friends with a particular gentleman, and yes, I know it's an old recipe for disaster and it seems to occur with some regularity, with me, but this friend wanted me. Oh yeah, he wanted to "do" me, if you know what I mean, and well, I knew right when I met him I'd never have sex with him, but I...no, I did NOT string him along!...I enjoyed his companionship. We used to go dancing, and he would stay on the floor with me until my knees gave out. He was good at getting us into clubs for free. I just let him walk ahead, and he kinda knew everyone who is anyone in this town, in the club scene, and if he didn't he could bullshit, and yeah, we'd walk on in. THAT, was cool. So, he told me about this little hole in the wall pub/tavern/bar kind of place, new, run by these siblings, from California, two brothers and a sister. He said, "It has all this shit hanging from the ceiling, and all these beers, and well, it's off the hook", or something like that, and I said, well, hell, let's go. And we did. And the California siblings were cool. The stuff hanging from the ceilings was cool, old junk stuff, stuff from gas stations, or roadside stands, or flea markets, in general, stuff, everywhere, stuff. Hundreds of beers, hundreds of Scotches, and the siblings....tall! TALL! All three of them. The woman rode a Harley, wore loads of leather, had a long blonde braid down her back. The guys were so nice, would sit at our table with us, shoot the shit, tell us their ideal of what a neighborhood pub/tavern/bar should be, what their dream was. And the friend would be jealous, think I was flirting, and I'd have to remind him that we were only friends, and for the umpteenth time, no, I will not be sleeping with you tonight. (Pause for large swig of beer - mmmmmm.....perfect after a Double Whopper With Cheese!) So, that little pub/tavern/bar relocated, got a swankier location, changed a bit, and the TALL California siblings began brewing their own beer, with their own logo from the pub/tavern/bar, a large laughing skull with zombie hypno eyes. So cool. Hell, the first time I bought the beer at the store was just because the label is so fucking cool, but also because I said, Hey, this is the beer brewed by the TALL California siblings, the one a woman with a long blonde braid down her back, and I see her in town sometimes tooling around in her leathers on her Harley. Yeah, cool. It tastes good. I don't know beer-tasting terminology, but give me a sec.....oh, it's real tangy on the tongue, then explodes in a sort of fullness, has a great aftertaste, kind of sits way back on my tongue for the finish. Yeah, good. The TALL California siblings have expanded over the ensuing 9 or so years, have a second location that supposedly has bike nights, but I have yet to go. In fact, it's one of the places that I don't really care to venture, alone. I'm not scared, I just think I'd enter and people would look at me. "What is she doing here?". Ya know? Like, "Do you know someone here?". A "regulars only" kind of joint. If I could go with the friend, it would be great, but I had to dissolve our "friendship" a few years ago. This is unhealthy, I said. You are berating me for my lifestyle, you think I will never find a man, get married, and that may be fine for me, but you are making me feel small and wrong for that. You think you have my best interests at heart, but the truth is you want me, you always have, you love me, you've said so, and I will never fuck you, we will not be lovers, ever. I love you back, but if you won't be just my friend, then this won't work. ("When Harry Met Sally", my ass.) End of that story. Buy some Laughing Skull today! (Man, they should give me a free juicy 1/2 pound burger with lots of bacon for that testimonial of sorts!) Today sucked. Work sucks. Will someone please offer me a job? Please? I can type real fast, I'm edgiekated. I'm smart, real smart. I'm underutilized and underpaid. I have never been surrounded by so many ignorant, uneducated people in all of my life! And the sick thing, the horrible, awful, repulsive thing is....they don't want to know! It's like when we found out the Europeans didn't actually "discover" America, um, they actually raped and killed everyone who already lived here and claimed this land for their own. Oops. Maybe some folks don't want to believe that story. Maybe the people with whom I work would prefer to remain ignorant about toxins in the environment, in the workplace, the need to recycle, and any other topic you can imagine, any topic of import. No, can't we talk about hair wraps? Makeup? What shade of lipstick is that? GIRL! Can I aks you where did you get them shoes!?!!?!?!? AIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! Shoot me, shoot me now. Okay, let me finish my beer first. Oh man, I wish I had a boyfriend here right now, just so I could say, "Baby, get me another beer." I wish I was a redneck..... Yeah, I was trying to educate Ms. Cat, former lover of Mr. Gene, about the dangers/nastiness of circumcision, and I took the topic back to work. Why? What was I thinking? That I could enlighten someone? That I could engage in a semi-intelligent conversation with the most intelligent-seeming co-worker I know, one Lulu? HAH! That's funny, man, too fucking funny. She interrupted me totally, after making lots of faces and talking about "germs", and then started to tell me that I am in the wrong job (DUH!), that I should be in politics, but wouldn't let me finish telling her that the fallacies surrounding the "need" for cirucmcision are that, fallacies, myths, and I tried to tell her she'd been programmed, brainwashed, but she didn't want to hear anything other than what she knows. Oh, sad, sad, this makes me sad. It's my approach, I don't know how to go about it, and the workplace is NOT the right environment, but I'm with the fucking ignorant assholes every fucking day eight fucking hours a day every fucking week (fuck, fuck, fuck, okay?), and it KILLS me that I cannot talk hair and makeup and shoes, that life to me, idle chitchat to me, is death penalties, Bush, Gephardt, Gore, Clinton, landfills, Iran, air strikes, recycling, decimation of species.....ahhhhh.... More beer.... How do I do this? I've applied online, for Turner, at monster.com, I read the classifieds in the free weekly, do I need to do a mass cover letter/resume campaign? Oh, that's so much work and I'm tired at the end of the day...."Bring me another beer, baby".....whine, whine, whine. Hey, "Big Brother 2" is gonna be cool tonight, and there's that "Amazing Race" or "Lost Race" or "Lost in Space" or some shit on afterward. Okay, look, yeah, I'm trying to change the subject, I'm lost man, I'm torn up, but I don't know how to change my life, and I know I have to, and well, I will, whine, whine, whine, but not right now. I DO wanna be happy, I DO wanna help save the earth, fuck the people, but save the animals, maybe the children, and the elderly, man, we've shoved them under some huge rug, haven't we? Can I make money doing all that? I just need to pay my rent...and my digital cable bill...and buy cat food...and internet service. I don't need to eat. I'm small, I eat like a bird (Double Whopper With Cheese?). I'll figure it out. Or, if you have suggestions, job offers, etc., anyone reading this, anything not involving sex, feel free to email me, and baby, bring me another beer. Cost of the War in Iraq
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