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"Nothing even matters at all", especially basketball
2003-04-01 - 9:27 p.m.


Hmmm. Werk was very tiring today. I was in a very snitty (yes I said sNitty) mood. I was throwing shoes around. And kicking them too. It wasn't pretty. I also almost threw a hissy fit because, according to the Goddesses of Retail (aka, Manager Girl and Junior Manager Girl), I could not go to lunch at 2:00. This is the optimum time to go to lunch, because it makes the afternoon go by quicker. Eating lunch at this time also reminds me of being back at school and eating lunch at this time because I was an anti-social loser. ;)

One time sophomore year, I was sitting in the favorite hangout of all geeks music majorish, calmly reading the paper and noshing on my broccoli rice bake. I believe that was indeed a Tuesday special for a while. I don't remember. Thursday was barbecue chicken sandwich day. Oh holy Thursdays. Anyway, I was sitting there on this Tuesday or this Monday or whatever it was, and out of the blue this wayward freshman voice major asked to sit with me. I agreed, of course, as it was the busy time of day, and well, she had no place else to sit. But I, being shy, and probably a little bit rude in that case, did not know what to say so I kept on reading my paper. Having an actual major was new to me at that point, y'see, so I didn't fully grasp the concept of talking to people within one's major yet. Of course, assuming I had grasped the concept of talking to people at all. :-P

So what in the hell is my point? I began to hate eating lunch at the busy times, when there were people there, so I started eating lunch at 2:00 or later when there weren't as many people there.

And that, my friends is the (partial) story of why I am a loser. To be continued, of course. ;)

Anyway. There are good things to be said from joining one of those music clubs. A) You get mail! and B) There is a lot less annoying plastic garbage impossibly shellacked to the case. Yeah. How do you spell shellacked anyway? Probably not like that. But yeah. Why did I not realize Lauryn Hill was so awesome five years ago, when everyone else did?

"Music is supposed to inspire/How come we ain't gettin no higher?"

Good stuff.

And now, I think, it is time to become bitter at evil things again. Because, dammit, Manager Girl loves basketball. Werk and basketball talk do not mix, my friends. So beware speaking of the evil sport to me at werk. Because Sarah the Shoe Schmuck will go medieval on yo' ass, footwear style. We're talking torture devices, used in creative ways, such as the UGLY Ass Clearance Bitch Boot, wedged firmly in unpleasant places. Or the Used By An Old Granny With a Smelly Old Granny Foot Ped (little footy stocking trying-on thing)- when waved in the general direction of one's nose, has been known to cause fainting, convulsions, hives, sneezing, coughing, hiccuping, burping, spitting, swearing like a sailor, and death if all these symptoms happen at once, which is highly likely due to the deadly nature of the Used By An Old Granny With a Smelly Old Granny Foot Ped. Perhaps you'd rather I was more crude and hammered your face in with the Steel-Toed Work Boot of Doom. And, of course, my favorite, the simple act of "shoeing". This is like stoning, but worse. First I will remove the shoelaces from all of the sneakers we have in stock. Then I will tie them together. Then, using this makeshift rope, I will tie you to the pillar in the middle of Shopetopia, being careful not to obscure the full length mirror from view, because, I will likely steal your money and buy more shoes I don't need, and then stop to admire them and play with my hair and stuff, because that would almost be the ultimate irony- buying more and more *shoes* I don't need, as if I wished to become one of the shoe fetishists that I must bow and scrape to every day. But it would not be the *ultimate* irony. Because, after that, I would proceed to throw all of these laceless sneakers at you, until you are buried in them. I would naturally save the basketball shoes to throw at your head.

And that, if I remember what the hell I was talking about, is what might happen if I hear any more talk of basketball at werk because basketball is stooooopid and I REALLY REALLY REALLY BLOODY FUCKING HATE BASKETBALL.

Whoa nelly. *deep breath*

I'm ok. Really. I think. ;)

I guess I'm addicted to American Idol now. I think when Clay Aiken winked at someone in the audience after his performance, I must have giggled like a teenybopper in the studio audience of a live televised reality show for a good five minutes. Damn that boy can sing. And he's so cute, in that cute geekish way. Heeeheheeehee.

Must stop giggling. MUST. STOP. GIGGLING.

Hee. I think, for the good of all concerned I should shut up and go eat a ham sandwich and go to bed. Yes. It's better this way.

*sob*

Goodnight. :)

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