meximick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Man I Wish I Had Some of Ma's Potato Salad Right About Now. It's Really Fucking Excellent. Trust Me. Christmas! WOOOOOO! I luv Christmas so. It's that special time of year when it's cold as fuck, and you hang out with people you don't usually hang out with (not always funpeople), and you think about the true meaning of Christmas, and then you think about all the loot you scored! Yeah, LOOT! Christmas was good to me. Got a Playstation 2 from my savior of a brother. It rocks quite well, as does he. And even if I don't buy a bunch of games, at least I now own a DVD player, which sure comes in handy when you're in the mood for a new porno medium. Rock! I also got a sweet-ass J Crew wool sweater, which is dry clean only, so I will wear it about twice a year. Also, I'm afraid my huge head is going to stretch out the head hole. Then I will be without a hot looking sweater. I got a the Kevin Smith-penned Daredevil book from Mike, which is pretty sweet, too, as well as a bunch of other stuff. The girl got me a kickass walkman and some jazz cds. She rocks. This week, I'm making my own hours. I got here at 9:45am. My boss is out. Most of the sales staff is out. No one is selling anything. Hence, I have almost nothing to do except drink hot cocoa and read the Drudge Report and the Chicago Tribune, and think about building a fourth cube wall. Today I was at Belmont waiting for a train, and listening to my new walkman, when I noticed there was a man across the tracks, who appeared to be agitated. He was yelling, leaning over to address commuters on my side of the tracks. No one was really paying attention to him, but I could tell it was clearly one of those "ignore the crazy guy" moments. He was ranting about what a shitty Christmas he had, and going on about what a terrible life he had. So when he moved a bit southward to address me, I took off my headphones and cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled over, "I don't care." He yelled back, "What?" I replied, making to sure to enunciate, "NO ONE CARES." I felt I was doing it for my fellow commuters. People rarely stand up to crazy people anymore, and I could have either turned up my music and been like everyone else, or I could have done what I did. True, I feared that he might sprint over to my side and stab me, but it's bad enough people are standing around in 15 degree day-after-Christmas cold, waiting for the train, but they have to put up with crazy fucking yelling people. To hell with that. luvyou, -m 11:04 a.m. - 2001-12-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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