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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Saturday, April 25, 2015

A Poem I Wrote For Storytime ...

This is the really bad poem I wrote. Its really bad I know. Maybe I should have tried harder. I'll try harder the next time though.

This is the pretty bad poem I wrote. I know it's not the best. Some of you might think that it's okay, but surely you think that in jest.

This is the okay poem I wrote. Well maybe I think it's pretty good. I mean, it's definitely nowhere near the greatest. Write a great poem? I don't think I could.

This is the pretty good poem I wrote. I didn't like it before but now I do. I write poems pretty good I think. I am a poet, woohoo!

This is the awesome poem I wrote.
Man, it keeps getting better and better. I feel like the coolest guy in the world right now with the awesome hair and a 1 billion dollar sweater.

This is the wonderful poem I wrote. I am the greatest poet in the world. This poem is so great that your brain will explode, your muscles will freak out and your toes will be curled.

This is the world's greatest poem I wrote. No other poem is is as good as mine. I am obviously the world's greatest poet genius. I think I have always been, all of the time.

Wait.

Oh. Ok.

Ahem.

This is the sort of okay poem I wrote. I know I said it was the greatest before. But that was before I got to the ending. Because apparently the ending doesn't rhyme.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

In Hiding ...

I am feeling depressed.

There. I said it.

I'm not feeling good. I'm nervous and paranoid and scared and worried. I'm a mess.

My wife asked me what was wrong and I told her that there's no one thing that's wrong with me.

Instead, it's more like there are a million tiny broken pieces, a million small things, that I've been silently carrying for a long time that are now breaking my back.

Yeah. So that.

I'm depressed.

So I'm going to go back to hiding in my cave now.

See you later.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Yes I Work Here ...

Here's some hard truths for you.

So I work at a bookstore. I am the manager in charge of the children's department.

I work very hard, I drink waaaaaay too much coffee, I know my product better than any other employee, and I've been doing storytime for over a decade. I have been with this company for over 14 years. I am a hard working, dedicated, loyal employee.

I also have brown skin and look very Mexican.

As a result of that, most of the customers that come into the store automatically assume that I don't work here.

Ok. That's not entirely true. People DO think that I work here. But, on account of the color of my skin, most of the predominantly white customers just automatically assume that I'm not a "regular" employee but instead, as fits the stereotypical designation that most white people assign Mexicans, I must work in the back or maybe I just unpack boxes or maybe I just make the displays or maybe I just count the books or, I dunno, wash the dishes or something.

A lot of people ask me "Do you work here?"

I mean, a LOT of people ask me "Do you work here?"

Seriously, a suspicioulsy LARGE AMOUNT of people ask me "Do you work here?"

(sigh)

It's frustrating because I'm seriously grrrrrrrrreat at my job. I'm good. I'm damn good. I'm the best there is.

But the majority of people just don't WANT me to actually do said job.

Seriously, just give the Mexican a chance.

He may surprise you.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

A Quick Post Describing The Lack Of Posts ...

HELLLOOOOO LLLLADIES ...

Ahem. Sorry.

Look, I'm sorry about the lack of posts. I know I haven't posted in a while.

It's just that, as I have mentioned before, I just don't know what to do or what to say.

I've just lost all my patience with this whole internet thing.

But I'll try to post more.

I promise.