It's been a long time. A long time since I've sat down and written anything. A long time since I've started anything. A long time since I had a lot to say, or at least enough to say that it warrants something like this.
So here's what's up.
I always need a nap now. Especially after eating. I mean, that's nothing new for me, I'm old and broken and tired. But I'm more tired than normal these days, as I picked up a second job. It's a seasonal gig, just for the holidays, working a shipping job at an online costume jewelry retailer. It gives me a little extra money for the holidays and keeps me from both being bored and getting into too much trouble. There's an off chance that they might keep me on after the season, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Still it would be cool to continue to make that extra coin.
The place is insane. Apart from me and a few others who were hired by the company itself, most of the people doing this job are temporary day workers from an agency. Most of these people have seen more bad days than good, and I'm sure a large percentage of them have battled addiction issues, so I try to refrain from mocking them. Just because they made some poor decisions involving a crack pipe doesn't mean they are bad people.
That being said, there are some real dummies rollicking around the warehouse. Just today, this question was posed to the masses: "WHO IS LEAVING PIECES OF BAND-AIDS ON MY STATION?" This led me to other questions. For instance, Who is only using partial Band-Aids? Are the pieces in shapes, like an arts and crafts project? I'm assuming it's just the backs of the Band-Aids that you peel off? What the hell is happening here?
Last week, one of the dudes from the agency, a large effeminate dude (this matters as his vocal inflections might be hard to put into type, but he sounds like a giant sissy. No offense to sissies) was having a problem.
"Someone, moi, is having a serious case of the Mondays!" he announced. It was before 9 on Monday morning, and I wasn't going to indulge, because a) none of my business and b) it's too early for this shit.
He continued to rustle and fidget behind me. I could hear his uncomfortable morning playing out like a Velcro shoe wearing radio drama. Finally, he says "OH MY GOD YOU GUYS!" We all turn our heads towards him.
"MY PANTS ARE ON BACKWARDS!" We all turn our eyes downwards.
Sure enough, this dude, an adult, woke up, got dressed, and left his home. With pants on backwards. Back pockets in the front. Front pockets in the back. Zipper in the back. Button to seal the pants together in THE BACK OF HIS GODDAMN PANTS. These were not sweat pants, or elastic waisted things. Just regular jeans. How does this happen? All of the questions were sprinting through my head. Dude had a wallet in his back pocket, which was in the front now. When driving, how do you not recognize that it's not what you are sitting on? What the fuck, dude.
"Yo," a co-worker chimed in, "is you in Kriss Kross?" This was one of my questions as well (mine had better grammar, however #judging).
He was not, in fact, in the early 90's hip-hop group Kriss Kross who was noteworthy for wearing their clothes backwards. The 90's were a weird time.
So that's part of what I've been doing lately. Making some extra money and dealing with knuckleheads who don't know how to dress themselves, despite being old enough to vote.
There's more, but that's for later.
