Hello hello Asspeople in my Asscave, I am taking five minutes to tell you that I got called into work today. Guess the famous and sparkly name on everyone’s lips? That’s right, Your Asshole. People are quitting and the regular employees have latched onto me like a chav onto a Juicy bag. On one hand, I love this job, on the other, it doesn’t pay enough to live, and on the third hand that sprouted after the Pockyclipse (the scifi I am writing right now is making me demented) there is nothing else going. I was a little sad this weekend when I got called into work after discovering that I was indeed scheduled to work and had shit the bed. I felt less stupid when six others were no-shows as well, because the dates on the schedule were wrong.

I spent the time productively. Jobs I applied for: drama secretary (presumably I keep track of all the drama), some other kind of secretary that I have forgotten already but it’s in my email, grocery store night stocker (ha ha, I almost wrote stalker), and night hotel desk clerk, and finally, sucking dick for drug money.

Also it is important for you to know that I dropped Strudel off at school today and ran home. I pretty much run all over my neighborhood now, in my street shoes and regular bra and all. It is more doable now that my poor boobs have shrunk and now that I’ve been running for longer distances. I was late for an appointment the other day because I was watching the slow clock in the house without realizing it, and I ran there, making it in about two minutes instead of five on foot. I love it. I am also crazy impatient and am like WHY WALK WHEN YOU COULD RUN??? I see people and I’m like “hi bye” and run away because I’m part Tarahumara now and some crap. So now I’m that person: I’m in UR neighborhood runnin around like an idiot.

Speaking of Strudel, she shouted her way through the night again. She has ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS been a noisy sleeper, so my confession is that instead of feeling any sympathy for her soon-to-be-fearful-fours little nightmares, I feel more like OH FFS WHERE’S THE GIANT BELL JAR WHEN YOU NEED IT. I know, I know, earplugs or close the door, but if there’s a true emergency, I can’t miss the sound of vomiting or whatnot.

Have a good day, and if not, I feel your pain ™.

15 thoughts on “Monday WHOOSH

  1. My friend Vic the Dude was a grocery night stalker once upon a time, and we *always* used that spelling. I also tool delight in pronouncing the L really hard, for I am a dork.

    My vote is for you to take the drama secretary job. Or is it Secretary of Drama?

  2. Have you applied for state aid? Are you eligible for WIC or food stamps? That might help a little.

    My last temp job ended early because it was giving me migraines and I still haven’t found any money-type-jobs. HAPPY CHRISTMAS.

  3. Seriously, look into American Greetings. I just started with them last week and it is a total cake job. And they are flexible and family friendly. The pay isn’t great but it’s money, right? I vote no on sucking dick for drug money.

  4. But if it comes down to sucking dick for food money, remember that there is some protein to be had…I’m just sayin’.

  5. I know; my bad. It’s just that whenever the old BJ rears its ugly head, I start to channel Swift and get all Modest Proposally and such. As penance, I will do a few hours vegan.

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