--One of my biggest concerns about starting a new job, was how it
might impact the website.I
know it probably sounds crazy, but I was always worried about the
hours I’d have to work, and where I could fit the daily Surf Report
updates in there somewhere.
So I’d be sitting in these interviews, with our financial future
hanging in the balance, thinking:8 to 5?!Holy shit,
I’ll never be able to write again!
I can’t get it done in the evening, you see.I don’t know why, but it just doesn’t work for me.I’m only productive in the morning, after a shower and with
staggering amounts of Eight O’clock Bean Coffee coursing through my
veins.
I hated to say it out loud, but I just knew
a strict 8
to 5 schedule would kill off the Smoking Fish.And I simply can’t have that.At my old job I was straddling east coast and west coast
business hours, with a late start time.It was a perfect situation for me, and something not too easy
to duplicate.
So when I interviewed for this new job, and they told me it was a
management position on the just-launched second
shift,
with full-blown crackpot hours, my eyes lit up.It’s four ten-hour days per week, Sunday through Wednesday, 4
o’clock
in the afternoon until 2:30
am.
I liked the vibes I got during the interview, and the hours seemed
almost perfect for a man of my particular mental illness.I’m nocturnal by nature… I’d have a long weekend every
week of the year…
I could continue with my various “writing” projects, and still pay
the bills and enjoy excellent benefits…Oh yeah.
So I went after it aggressively.I
called the HR people every few days, and turned myself into a complete
nuisance.I was worried it
might backfire, this calculated obnoxiousness, but in this case it
didn’t.I worked my
first ten-hour, middle o’ the night shift last night.
And here I am completely rested, drinking coffee like a man entered in
a coffee-drinking contest, tapping out an update like nothing has
changed.And by this time
tomorrow… my work week will be half over.
I know it’s still the very early days, but right now it has the musky
essence
of perfection to it.
--Here’s a scan BCD
sent me from his local newspaper.Heh.Girls that age
usually look like Victoria’s
Secret models, and boys that age usually look like… that.At least that’s been my experience.
--Speaking of being that
age and
looking like that,
here’s another of those websites where you can view EVERY Playboy
centerfold ever.This time
it appears to be based in Russia,
so it might take Team Playboy a little extra time shutting the site
down, and ruining the lives of everyone involved.So enjoy it while you can.
--On Saturday I blew the
ass out of yet another pair of jeans.I bent over to pick up a sock on the floor, and there was a
catastrophic denim failure in the rear quadrant.
Toney said, “Why does this keep happening?!”And I felt there was no real need for an explanation.
So we went to the mall, and I bought two new pairs of jeans at JC
Penney.Toney had a coupon
for ten bucks off anything, and I combined that with their sale
prices, and got myself a deal, goddammit.
Afterwards we walked around for a little while, and the Secrets wanted
to go into a video game store.I
went in with them, and some kid, probably fifteen or sixteen years
old, sauntered over to me and said, “Sup man?You need help with anything?”
Man?Yeah, I don’t care for that.I guess it’s better than sir,
but only slightly.That
little shitshaft was probably watching Blue’s
Clues
when I was in my thirties.Now
he’s calling me man?I don’t think so.I
gave him a silent stare, he swallowed nervously, and sailed his zit
ferry in a different direction.
On a whim, Toney decided to get the youngest Secret’s hair cut at a
place inside the mall.Heck,
I thought, I’ll do it too.So
I went in there and put my name on the list.And within seconds I was seated in a hydraulic chair, being
asked, “So, are you guys out doing some Christmas shopping this
afternoon?”
I’m also not much of a fan of the forced chit-chit.It’s none of her business what I’m out doing… But we
talked a little bit, while she tended to my tiny Duke head, and she
suddenly blurted, “Hey, where are you from?!You have a strong Southern accent.”
What the?Nobody ever
tells me that.In fact, my
friend Tim often accuses me of betraying my hillbilly roots, and
shedding whatever accent I once had.I told her I grew up in
West
Virginia,
but that didn’t seem to compute.She said she would’ve guessed
Alabama.
Hilarious.And even though
she irritated me on several levels, I took your advice and tipped her
five bucks, instead of the usual two.I had no idea restaurant rules didn’t apply to the hair
folk…
--After we left the mall,
we went to Sam’s Club and I snapped these pics with my cell phone.Wotta douche.
--I talked to my brother
yesterday, and he told me a woman at his job was caught masturbating
while watching footage on security monitors(?!).Is that not excellent?
He told me nothing extraordinary was happening at the time, it just
showed people going about their regular workday, in grainy black &
white.And this apparently
excited her a great deal?I
simply don’t know.
When I worked in Atlantasome guy was caught waxing his dolphin in the men’s room one day,
and the dude practically had to leave the state.The repercussions were nothing short of brutal.
So that leads to my Question of the Day: have you ever known someone
who got caught, you know, while
alone?Use the comments link to tell us about it.
