Til Sunday Mornin
08 February 2004 at 1:34 am
It is Saturday night of Chinese New Year weekend, and I had to take a cab home from work because my bus neglected to come due Market St deciding to be closed down at every other block.
I love taking cabs. Looooooove it. I love hailing cabs. I love when they drive by without picking you up and you can be angry and everyone understands. I love when they stop for you and you climb in and say, "Scott and Hayes, please." And you can stare at the world while you're being chauffeured. And you toss the cash at the driver, step out into the world, look around at your new surroundings, breath deep the pollution-infused air, and curse because you just stepped into a puddle.
Ah, the city life.
We put on Aaron's Pulp video and watched it twice while we played Simpson's Monopoly. I. Kicked. His. Ass. In the end, I owned all the properties AND all the monorail stops and stations. And his ass. Which goes without saying.
I loathe weekends. Generally, I close Friday, close Saturday, open and close Sunday, and open Monday. This means no fun and little sleep. And we all know that no fun + little sleep = pissy Morgan and that pissy Morgan = boring diary entries.
I almost started a fire at work today, but then I didn't. I was trying to replace a lighttube but I couldn't and I kind of broke it but it still wouldn't come out so I just left it turned off but then someone turned it on and I heard a little spark and then nothing. I don't know where the fire extinguisher is in the building (aren't we supposed to have one in our store -- just like I'm supposed to have a half hour break and 2 fifteen minute breaks when I work 8 hours?), so I probably would have gotten fired for burning the store and possible the building down. Which would have been a major bummer.
Aaron is on a waffle diet, in which the goal is to gain as much weight as possible. He's been eating hot fudge ice cream waffle sandwiches and I am extraordinarily jealous, as I am on the eat-as-little-as-physically-possible diet, in which the goal is the eat as little as physically possible.
one year ago today: "what a life we lead."
two years ago today: "really, that's the solution to the problems: just flirt with some guy and get him to ask you to punch him. booyow."
three years ago today: nothin.
mod l post-mod
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.