the most significant thing i did this morning was scream. in the heat of the moment, i opted for "ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" rather than 'fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" as i grabbed hold of the extra virgin olive oil display as i slipped in someone's puddle of melted snow. the wick thing is i didn't fall-- six extra virgins couldn't say the same as they lay mired in their own fluid, entangled in glass shards. har.
the second best scream today was at 3:00 when boss said we could go home and the power flicked back on. again, i opted for "ahhhhhhhhhhh!" rather than "fuuuuuuuuuuuck!" again. i was this close to spending the afternoon in bed with two cups of hot (or so i thought). i got a headache and left anyway (even tho i had a $50 bet to lick someone's nipples without permission and i could use $50 and he was hot), trudging o'er the fields of snow with a sack of healthfood on my back. stopped in the way to talk about the state of the local music scene.
at home, the smoke, eat, DS9, repeat cycle had been going on all day. i joined in and have now repeated it several times tonight.
the tribeca was ugly and stupid inside and i'm glad all the pretentious twerps weren't around. but b.a. was as killer as always. he was exactly what i needed tonight to smear on top of the shit sandwich that has been a great deal of the last 24 + a few hours. casios through the mist-- you complete me. a fine congregation ce soir. the assumed drama(s) did not occur in my face if at all. that was choice. as we sat, a svedish dude tried to talk to us, and i do mean tried-- but ne pas de success. i continued crushing the tiny golden heart confetti and wondered if i could name boys whose hearts i've broken to represent the 35 or so crushed golden hearts (yeah, probably). michael from sveden-- number 36.
the second best scream today was at 3:00 when boss said we could go home and the power flicked back on. again, i opted for "ahhhhhhhhhhh!" rather than "fuuuuuuuuuuuck!" again. i was this close to spending the afternoon in bed with two cups of hot (or so i thought). i got a headache and left anyway (even tho i had a $50 bet to lick someone's nipples without permission and i could use $50 and he was hot), trudging o'er the fields of snow with a sack of healthfood on my back. stopped in the way to talk about the state of the local music scene.
at home, the smoke, eat, DS9, repeat cycle had been going on all day. i joined in and have now repeated it several times tonight.
the tribeca was ugly and stupid inside and i'm glad all the pretentious twerps weren't around. but b.a. was as killer as always. he was exactly what i needed tonight to smear on top of the shit sandwich that has been a great deal of the last 24 + a few hours. casios through the mist-- you complete me. a fine congregation ce soir. the assumed drama(s) did not occur in my face if at all. that was choice. as we sat, a svedish dude tried to talk to us, and i do mean tried-- but ne pas de success. i continued crushing the tiny golden heart confetti and wondered if i could name boys whose hearts i've broken to represent the 35 or so crushed golden hearts (yeah, probably). michael from sveden-- number 36.
4 comments:
"are you from canada, ja?"
no, michael, i'm from sveden too. how come you don't remember me? fawwwwk!!!! hey, wanna kneel in front of our table and stare at us as we ignore you a little longer? we'd really like that. remember when we asked you if you came here with friends? that was a hint to go find them.
The good thing about breaking olive oil bottles is that the oil is harder to clean up than the glass so you end up with very soft feet... er.. wait that's only when you do it in your own kitchen on Christmas Eve. I suppose they don't let you do that at work.
yeah, i guess being barefoot at work wouldn't be such a good idea. unless, say, i were a lifeguard or a foot model.
Post a Comment