go on with your bad self

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I hate spring. Summer is worse, of course, but spring is somehow worser because the crap is just beginning and we got seven more months of this.

This was the warmest winter in forty years and the winter that never was, and now it’s transitioned to record-breaking warmth nearly overnight. Only a few weeks ago, it was still below freezing. Now we have highs in the eighties. Cars are dusted with unprecedented drifts of pollen. I woke up tonight to find ants swarming in our sink, and the maintenance guy says that by the end of the summer the wasps’ll be larger than my fingers, and ain’t that something to look forward to?

Oh, it’s such crap. At least i don’t suffer from allergies or hay fever. The people that do are going berserk right now.

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Even though i no longer want to transfer back there, i can’t believe how much i miss KRH. I love that place so much, there are times when i’ll bring it up on Google Maps and just stare longingly at it and remember the good times and doubt my fucking sanity and marvel at how shitty my life must be if i miss a workplace….

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…it doesn’t look like much from that image, just some random place? It’s a lot more beautiful in person. The river and the trees, man, the river and the trees. We had some good times there. Every place on that image corresponds to some happy memory. That’s where i found Luna, after all.

Man, those days! Whenever i work overtime there now, the nights go by too fast. They used to seem to last forever. I can’t even pinpoint what made that time so epic and memorable. All we were doing was sneaking around and watching movies, and dealing with all the wacky characters who used to work there. Tiny Hands and the Horrible Mr. Head and Crazy Miss Lee. And i suppose it was being in the middle of the recession after my year of unemployment? I was just happy to have any kind of job, and i wasn’t the only one saying that. Especially a chill one that allowed me to buy a laptop and work on my own stuff and become a weird night addict. No one knew where the country was headed at that point, and everything seemed kind of slightly electric. We were just… hunkering down there. It was like a comfy foxhole in the middle of a war.

I’m just overly nostalgic. Am i? There’s only three periods in my life that i get misty over. I miss that middle-school 4th-8th grade era. And i really miss my college days with Gooch and John. And i miss 2008-2010 at KRH. The rest of my life can go screw.

These days, things seem to be limping back to normal and i feel like i’ve overstayed my welcome. And i’m getting sick of babysitting that Whitaker kid. I’m so ready for him to leave. The only thing worse than a redneck is a redneck who is also a drama queen…

…last night, he staggers in to work drunk, moaning that “the girl he was gonna marry” back in North Carolina has told him to get lost, and he wants to die, and almost crashed his car on the way there, the irresponsible little piece of crap. The girl he was going to marry? So… she wasn’t even your official girlfriend? Isn’t that some kind of redneck code for “girl i’m obsessed with who’s really not that into me?” Listen, kid, you’re some guy she was friends with, maybe she let you touch her boobies once, but then you moved to the next state over, and she moved on. Get over it.

So then he threw a temper tantrum, and smashed things outside and made noise before passing out and snoring like a dog. Keep in mind that this kid is a marshmallowy little babyface. So it’s kinda funny. Later, he woke up and talked drunkenly on his phone to some buddy of his, ranting ’bout how he was gonna find that guy she’s with and tear his dick off and shove it up his ass and she deserves to rot in the hottest part of hell for how what she done me. And he’s a faggot anyway so having a dick shoved up his ass would probably make him happy anyhow.

The next night, he was sober, but continued his delusional revenge fantasy rants. I spent three hours hearing him swear to his buddy that they were gonna drive up there, have an ass-kicking party, get arrested, show that bitch who’s boss, because i don’t give a fuck before suddenly walking it all back and deciding, nah, maybe we’d better not.

This is all…. beyond pathetic.

Every time this kid opens his mouth to whine about how much he hates the job and hates life, i just think back to my times with Isaiah and Miss Diggs. We were doing the same crappy job for the same lame pay, but we fucking made the most of it and it was glorious.

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My sacred vow to not pick up slack for others lasted about a day. Miss Hastings had to work a 16-hour shift because Springer didn’t show. And she’s old, and nervous, and exhausted, and not all there. So i did all the work. When the Oaf is not there i must act in his stead.

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I’m not done with The Dark Tower yet, but i went ahead and ordered some cheap paperback copies of Eyes of the Dragon, The Dead Zone, and The Tommyknockers. I’m really curious about that last one, because… well, the Old Guy once told me that it was his favorite Stephen King novel and since he’s a twisted old coot it must be highly deranged. Others have said that it’s kind of bad, but it was written by King at the height of his alcohol/cocaine abuse, just before his wife called an intervention on his ass, so there’s a madness and desperation there isn’t entirely on purpose.

I gotta stop after these, though. Reading too much Stephen King is like eating too much beefaroni. It tastes good at first but you don’t wanna get sick on it.

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