sappy schlock

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-ringtone-

Whaaat?

Work both of my days off at Omohundro?

How about no.

Goodbye.

Honestly, to think that i have to be polite to these people.

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John got some good news the other week. He was either going to be laid off, or promoted…. and he was promoted. More money, more responsibility. And that’s good. I guess he’s middle management now. This fills me with a combination of jealousy and sadness…

…jealousy, because everyone i know has moved on to boring real jobs, while i remain on the bottom rung of the economic ladder. Sadness, because this is just another sign that his dream of making music for a living really is dead. I don’t think he’ll ever finish whatever it was that he was working on years ago. He now has a good job, a girlfriend, and a heavy video game habit. It’s hard to shove all of that aside to sit down and tinker with a synthesizer.

I’m the only one left. Still drawing, still beating my head against the wall, still thinking that it’s possible that the life you wanted when you were ten years might still happen somehow.

Hmmm.

Well, my new coworker is that Muna girl, except her name isn’t Muna, it’s Ehalsan, and apparently the E is silent, ain’t that different? And she’s not Dahir’s friend, she’s his sister-in-law — i guess they keep that quiet so they can work at the same post. Most importantly, she’s not just right, she’s stunningly gorgeous. And not in that skinny, angular, horrible way that supermodels are, but in that rounded and lush and irresistible way.

Oh, god. And i have to spend eight hours alone with her in a small room. This is… kind of like torture. I try not to stare at her too much when she’s asleep…

…yep, she’s already sleeping on the job. It’s the exact same pattern that holds true with all of my coworkers. They spend the first two nights making small talk and wandering around until they realize that no, there isn’t any work to do here and no one forcing them to do anything. By the third night, they’ve passed out by four in the morning. By the fifth night, they realize that they can keep doing it because hey, that L’Hommedieu guy just stays awake all night with his coffee, working on drawings like he said. Within two weeks, they’re counting on getting a nap at work because they have other stuff planned during the day.

It’s inevitable. No one can resist the pattern.

So yeah, there’s this insanely beautiful dark-skinned Middle Eastern goddess babe sleeping a few feet from me, her head pillowed on her luxuriant mane of ebony hair, her sumptuous lips parted just so.

Goddamnit.

Did i mention that she’s from Djibouti? She doesn’t wear a head scarf or anything, but her mom does. Muslim family. Probably a bit strict.

I have no choice but to play it cool. I just focus on my work and treat her the same as anyone else. You know why? Because girls hate it when random dudes slobber and fawn over them. Even i know that. You know who doesn’t know that? Fucking Gomez. That hulking boob only sees her for ten minutes between shifts, and he falls over his fool self trying to chat her up as fast as he can, as loud as he can. Oh, it’s sad and hilarious to watch. If only he knew that as soon as he leaves, Ehalsan turns to me and says “oh, thank god he’s gone! Is he very lonely? He really creeps me out! He asked to touch my hair and i said no!”

True story.

Keep in mind that Gomez’s idea of charming banter is along the lines of HEY, IS THAT TACO BELL? THAT’S WHAT’S UP! I LOVE TACO BELL, IT’S FUCKING AWESOME! HEY, HOW TALL ARE YOU? FIVE-SEVEN? THAT’S WHAT’S UP!

Sad.

Come on, Gomez. I’m just some doughy white guy, but even i know you gotta play it cool and relax.

All you hot girls reading this know what i’m talking about. Back me up here, hot girls don’t like slobbering and fawning, right?

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Have you ever seen Mitt Romney’s family?

…kinda makes you wish you had six arms so you could slap the shit out of them all at once. I said six, not seven, because Ann Romney has multiple sclerosis or something. What kind of sick fuck are you, anyway?

When i look at that pic, it strikes me that belts are weird. Hi, we are human males. We wear straps of leather to keep the lower garment from sagging. This is the best system we’ve come up with so far.

There’s got to be a better way.

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