I just read through all of my nodes up to this point and realized that I haven't written a daylog since December 2nd
. I also realized that my first wave of nodes really stunk, possibly due to the wickedly powerful prescription narcotic
I was on at the time. That stuff really scattered my EEG
to the wind. I did get some interesting poetry out of it though.
So much has happened in that short span of time, my mind tries to think about it and recoils in horror. I'm writing this daylog on fumes.
Today is day seven of the tedious job from the seventh level of hell (note: anyone reading this /msg me if you know what level 7 is). My current form of "shit, I'm out of moolah" work is folding things at a department store; I was transferred form the loading dock where I worked this summer. I can't think of two jobs more diametricaly oppsed than these two. The pay is alright, but the work itself is absolutely maddening. I am spending my time fighting a war of attrition, cleaning up after the overfed suburban multitudes with their fat fucking SUV's and their fat wallets buying Christmas gifts for people they don't even like. They all seem so pissed off, and I wonder if the holidays are realy what the holiday songs (which I am forced to listen to over and over again thanks to the store's Muzak system) are imparting upon our patrons. My job is to keep things tidy, but it only takes one inconsiderate and discontent (and most likely sexually unsatisfied) middle-aged harpie and thirty seconds to destroy a half an hours work. I was considering bringing a long pointy stick to work, but have moved up to 440 volt cattle prod.
My name is Pretzellogic and I hate fucking Christmas. Don't get me wrong; I like gift giving. I like sitting with my family and gradually waking up while sharing morning coffee by the tree. I like getting mildly drunk on really good eggnog and wassil. But I hate hate hate fucking HATE the god-damn corporate institution this holiday is. Much of this btterness has come strictly from watching these people shop, scrambling over the last chenille sweater or Razor scooter. Makes me fucking ill watching these swine, and cleaning up after them.
Ten hours of my day was spend in the Misses (women's) and Women's World (large women's) sections, endlessly folding piles of hideous embroidered sweatshirts and sweaters with five pounds of metallic beads sewn onto them.
I'm out of school now, and have traveled from the Frozen North to Albany, NY, where I will be for another few days. After that I will make the trip home to Rochester, NY. Nothing like family for the holidays.
I'd write more but my head is still swimming from the near-toxic levels of perfume I was exposed to this afternoon and evening from a handful of mid-life females attempting to impress one another. These women were emitting scent-waves visible to the naked eye.
Enough of this. Time to wash my face, brush my teeth, plug in the charger for the MOOOOve Along™ prod, and go to sleep.
10/8/01 Note: I honestly don't remember why I was so angry...