meximick's Diaryland Diary
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You damn dirty Canadians....
With regards to "You Are a Runner and I am My Father's Son", it is better than I could have believed, given that song title. It is sunny outside. 10:35am. I have been asked to come in to work today as my counterpart called in. I have decided instead to pay myself the equivalent of about $150 in overtime after taxes to lavish sleep and video games on me. It's like an early birthday for me. So I woke up at 9:00am just to catch up on Tivo and listen to Wolf Parade, picked up yesterday with Ace Combat 4, which I got for $8.
I will come to regret not going in to work today.
I will find a pile of medical records in the men's room to file. Blood specimens misplaced, mixed in with my office supplies. I will find a homeless person transient-ing under my desk, who I will have to shoo out with a broom. Go home, Uncle Joe. I have to double clean the telephones as my ladies like to moisturize before yelling at their kids on the phone. Plus their wig hair lingers some days. Now I know their home numbers now, since the kids call Mom in tears nearly every day, and the Moms tell them to shut up and no they can't have any money and why isn't the bus good enough, gas being so expensive and they need to be goin' out gettin' them a job and not saying goodbye or anything to indicate the conversation is done before they simply hangup. I kinda want to yell at them when I answer their calls, "You better stop yo cryin' now like you moms say. She busy. She toe' up. I'll be sure to give her your cryin' ass message."So I've been interviewing for a new bullshit job. One looks promising, and I know I'll hate it already. As long as I get more money out of it, I think I'm ready to hate the job entirely again. I've gotten too comfortable where I am now, and I feel too relaxed and I can be lazy. Not reading a book at the desk lazy because I've tried that the last two weeks, and I am busy enough to not be able to pick up a book, yet I'm caught up on the latest celebrity gossip. But no suduku. I figured that if I get a new job, I'll be ready to go in to someplace new and do everything, all the stuff people wait around for someone else to do, like correct filing tabs or rearrange filing cabinets, like the tasks I refuse to do in my current job because that's such bullshit. Give me $.75 more per hour, I'll get right on that, sir!
Fuck! Wolf Parade are Canadian! I feel cheated! They're too good. Now I must avoid reading interviews with them before they become, to my mind, even more tainted with the odd, acultural disjunct1 that is Canadianism. (shudder)
This, however, is brilliant
10:15 a.m. - 2005-11-22
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