NOTE: If you are easily offended by offensive things then please go somewhere else. I suggest pbskids.org or barbie.com, you wuss!


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Friday, July 28, 2006

Tired, Sore, Exhausted, Starving, Racist T-Shirts and the Wind Clan ...

... had a girl named Debby. She used to work at a cafe in a Barnes and Noble. She had long since quit that job (or was fired for smoking pot on the job, although I think that was the Krispy Kreme job where that happened) when I started working at the Metrocenter Barnes and Noble as a cashier slash shelver slash bargain straightener slash one man info desk slash bathroom mopper slash strange projects boy. It was a very ghetto job and one that had me in the back room a lot listing boxes and huge stacks of books and such.


Anyhoo, when I would come home tired and sore and exhausted, Debby would blow me off, saying "Your job isn't that hard. I used to work at a Barnes and Noble and once Cody and I opened the whole store by ourselves and it wasn't that hard, so I don't know what you're complaining about."


Holy living god demon retarded ass fucking nun whore, that would really piss the shit out of me!!! She had worked at a bookstore and HER bookstore experience was easy and therefore she refused to believe me when I had a hideous fucking day and was tired and sore and exhausted and starving. GOD I hated that.


Guess what kind of day I had?


I got five hours of sleep, got to work at 8:30, shelved one morning cart, facilitated a field trip for abused urban kids, trained two new employees, and got to the second morning shelving cart at around 12:45, not finishing it until right before my lunch which wasn't until 1:30. When I got back there were three massive carts of books to be shelved, not to mention massive stacks of shit on my desk. Thankfully the newbies were able to help me, stumbling their way around a store that they had only worked in once before. Today was horrible hell and now once again I'm at home tired and cranky and sore and completely out of it. Thankfully, though, my wife is comforting and caring and understanding and, above all, she actually BELIEVES me when I say how horrible today was. That means everything to me.


But I find myself warmed by some words of my father: Keep your eyes on the prize, Stevie. And that's what I'm trying to do. One more day and then I'm on vacation, an entire week where I ain't doing jack fucking shit except relaxing, fucking around with my iPod, writing, reading, playing with the kids, fucking my wife and, if I had any money, drinking.


Hell yeah!




In case you can't see it all too good, the drawing is a confederate flag on the top of the capitol dome. It's the most racist shirt I own and it's only funny if I wear it. The back of that shirt reads:


"If You Can't Feed 'Em, Don't Breed 'Em!

NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Caucasian People)"


I don't wear it out very much. Although I have worn it under my work shirt a few times. It's very empowering when Shaniquaa is too busy reading Zane books and hair magazines to take care of her six kids running around the section destroying shit.


Here's some music up your ass from the gotdamn Wind Clan, bitches!


Foo Fighters: Arms Wide Open (Rare Hilarious Acoustic Creed Parody)

Eels: Hospital Food

Mungo Jerry: In The Summertime

MF Doom: The Mic Sounds Nice

The Raconteurs: Together

Gnarls Barkley: Basically

The Bees: I Love You

Weezer: Tired of Sex

Eagles of Death Metal: I Want You So Hard

P.O.D.: Boom

The Who: Baba O'Riley

The Beatles: Heather (Rare Unused Demo)

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