Kiss Arse Day

I never even really left, but it feels like I’ve been on my own friggin’ vacation for the past five days.  Up until today, I was sleeping at my mom’s house every night since Saturday.  Had to take advantage of her and my stepdad being on vacation in Key West somehow, didn’t I?  So, under the pretense of "housesitting," I slept in a huge, comfy bed, ate their food and used their hot water all I could.  Nevermind that I still had to go to work the last three days.  It still somehow managed to feel like a vacation for me.  Or maybe I’m just blinded from playing Halo 2 and Soul Calibur III on their fitty-four inch television.  Yeah….that’s probably got something to do with it.  I’d kill to have one.  No, really.  Just name the person and I’ll at least maim ’em.  Pacifism be damned!

Friday is going to officially be "Kiss Arse Day" at work.  Some big, swingin’ dick Vice President is coming to inspect the store, as is the regional Operations Manager (who is a fuckin’ dildo, writ large).  So I’ve spent the better part of the last two days simply cleaning up my office and aisle.  By the time I left this afternoon, it was so clean that Darth Papal himself would be honored to eat something or other off the floor.  Or so I am told.  Personally, though, I don’t give a fuck about some asshole coming to inspect the store.  I mean, is it really worth almost getting in fights over?  (This has happened a few times this week….managers getting ready to just about throw down….some of it I would pay to see, truthfully).  As for my stuff, does the guy really think my office stays spotless all the fucking time?  When I have thousands of dollars of merchandise filtering through me every week?  I’d rather it look like I was actually doing something instead of trying to please this cocksucker.  I even know what I’d really like to tell him when he asks me how I’m doing:  "Well, I’d be doing better if I was actually getting to do my job.  But since you were coming, I haven’t been able to in about three days, because I had to make my office spotless and give you a wholly unrealistic picture of how I work……………Ass."  But we all know that won’t happen.  Especially the "ass" part.  Well, maybe that part.  Just not anywhere he can hear me.

Now Playing in Dave’s Mental Jukebox:  "Through the Fire and the Flames" by Dragonforce (ridiculously awesome song…faster than almost anything else I’ve ever heard), "Run" by Snow Patrol, and "Someone" by Earshot

An OCD moment:  Everytime I walk into the bathroom at work, I make the sign of the cross on the door, complete with the requisite Latin.  I don’t even know why.

Shameless plug time!  Everyone should read this.  The second half of that part of this story is probably some of the very best writing I’ve ever done, period.  For me to admit that…well….shouldn’t that tell you enough?  And read the rest of the story (well, all of it I have typed so far) while you’re at it!

Yeah, that really was shameless.  Oh, well.  Onward!

A couple days ago, I got my first glimpse of Rebecca’s daughter, Kameron.  Such a cute little three month old.  Looks just like her dad, so she got lucky.  I always knew Rebecca was going to make someone a fantastic mother someday.  So Kameron got lucky in that regard, too.  The thought of having my own children, on the other hand, well, that makes me fear for the rest of the world…..not to mention the kids themselves.  The last thing this planet needs is a little version of me running around it.

I created a brand new figure of fear at work the other day.  In what can only be described as a moment of idiocy, I grabbed a large T-square and proclaimed to one of the other guys, "I am Geometric Death!"  You see, if it’s a certain shape, a T-square looks somewhat like a scythe.  It was such a terrible joke that it was hilarious, and has now gone down in infamy at work.  I am King of the Jackasses!  Whoo!

There was more I was gonna get into, but I done forgot it now.  And that’s pitiful, because this is pretty damned short.  At least it looks that way at this point.  Oh well.  Fuck it.  I’m tired, and I have to be up in about 5 hours to get to work by 7am.  Thus, I’m (almost) full circle with my damning of "Kiss Arse Day."  As Beavis and Butt-head once (ever so accurately) said…….."Damn, we’re smooth."  Indeed I am.

Sayonara.