Sunday, July 24, 2005
Weekends don't feel like weekends anymore.
More like sharp pains on the bottoms of my feet.
Working makes me want to spend my days off more wisely. Instead of being distracted by this glowing box, I feel like I should be being enlightened by the man who is on the look out for his sunshine girl, with talks of masturbation through the means of tweaking mufflers, and giggling girls in the kitchen while the boys are getting drunk in the bathroom.
It is all true.
This morning at work, this old woman whose hearing was impaired (which lead me to the base of her ear shouting) yelled at her husband. She pointed her leathery finger at him, and shouted, "You mind your own damn business." He was informing her that she already had a container in the vehicle. He frowned, and shuffled outside. It was the saddest day in history, at least during that moment. on that minute. on that second. on that very spot.
More like sharp pains on the bottoms of my feet.
Working makes me want to spend my days off more wisely. Instead of being distracted by this glowing box, I feel like I should be being enlightened by the man who is on the look out for his sunshine girl, with talks of masturbation through the means of tweaking mufflers, and giggling girls in the kitchen while the boys are getting drunk in the bathroom.
It is all true.
This morning at work, this old woman whose hearing was impaired (which lead me to the base of her ear shouting) yelled at her husband. She pointed her leathery finger at him, and shouted, "You mind your own damn business." He was informing her that she already had a container in the vehicle. He frowned, and shuffled outside. It was the saddest day in history, at least during that moment. on that minute. on that second. on that very spot.
