The Fifty Cent Beheading
More updates on the war between rappers?
Nope. This involves something really stupid.
I spent the last week training a guy, and tonight he’s going to be dramatically fired. For stealing fifty cents.
‘Tis the Season?
And so it begins.
I just saw an ad for this year’s first Christmas movie. Uh, Halloween is tomorrow! Did we forget Thanksgiving?
Granted, a couple years back I saw the highly irritating Burl Ives Christmas-jingle CD ad the day after Labor Day, so I’m not bitching too loudly just yet.
Can this season end as quickly as it is starting?
The Best Laid Plans
Sometimes the best laid plans go awry. Sometimes the best plans to get laid go awry.
I had big plans this weekend.
Last time I checked in, I had plans with Clairissa, ThatGirl and Mizelle. While only one of those had carnal potential, a weekend jam-packed with lovelies sounds like a good deal, right?
Ozzy and Zombie Live
The set list from opening night.
I’ve been spinning the new Rob Zombie album quite a bit. There’s not much new material here, at least to me. It’s a mix of greatest hits and stuff from the last album, Educated Horses. He has done something I figured impossible- the songs are louder, meaner, more energetic. And played with as much spit and polish as heavy metal songs can be.
Slipping into Zombie mode…
My one-day world of wonkiness has ended.
Day before yesterday I was in a funk. Didn’t really give a damn about anything, just wanted the day to hurry up and get over. Went home, curled up, got good sleep.
Yesterday, it was like someone flipped a switch. I woke up refreshed. Either after reading of my malaise, or being the intuitive person she is, I got kind words from a friend, and it boosted my self-esteem immensely. Then I got a call from Clairissa while on the bus. Despite her best efforts to get me to freak out my fellow bus riders, I held a quiet, civil conversation. Which says something about her. I HATE talking on the bus. I don’t like strangers knowing my business, and people don’t fuck with me as much if they think I’m just another Portland Weirdo.
No News is Good News
I often leave the local morning news on for background noise. I can sit through numerous repeats of the headlines on the off chance something interesting happens, AKA ‘Breaking News!’
“Waaaah!”
I’ve been a moody, pouty bitch today.
Don’t know why, either. I *thought* I was looking forward to work, but as soon as I got on the bus, I just wanted to go back home. The bus-chatter irritated me, even though it wasn’t bad at all. I can usually find amusement in conversations between teenage girls, but not this time. I just wanted them to shut up.
Work wasn’t much better. There were more workers than customers, until I was left alone to babysit the club crowd, who was waiting for “the cousin of some famous rapper.” No offense, but Hillsboro isn’t Compton. Too many Ali Gs running around.
It could be the SoCal fires. My brother moved from San Diego several years ago, but left his kids there. (Except for the one in Japan. And the one that’s a neighbor of a famous east-coast politician.) So when I heard the lower third of California was on fire, it was personal.
I just got a note, and they are okay. One kid is eight miles from the fire, his sister is in a safe zone. They will meet accordingly, should the need arise.
So it’s not the fire’s fault. I can’t blame work. Maybe it’s just that time of the month. I’ve had a compelling urge to hide away somewhere and cry.
Blue man singular, I guess.
Late dinner, or early breakfast?
Another weekend grinds to a close. It’s been a quiet one. I spent most of Saturday waiting on people to come over, and by the time they showed I was no longer in the mood to go out. So I popped a couple of extra-strength Vicodin and spent the evening watching baseball, football and old movies.
Fast-Walking Breezy Stripped to Kill
I spent Sunday morning with a crush from my teenage years.
Regular readers know my love for ’70s cinema. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, cruising OnDemand, I saw a listing for Breezy. It was one of Clint Eastwood’s first films as a director, and starred my fantasy girlfriend, Kay Lenz.
I could either watch a rerun of local news, or ogle Kay Lenz. Hmm…
The Walking Time Capsule
I’m killing time, waiting for my cousin to some by. He’s usually prompt, but easly distracted, so I’m doing busy-work around the house. (Laundry is ready to go, and the clean clothes I never wear are shuffled lower into the pile.) Since I’m dressed to go out, I don’t want to get into any major housecleaning.
Hmm, what to do…
I’ll clean my wallet!
