Amsterdam

This morning, Richard; Ole Long, Tall, and Ugly; that cur of a roommate, woke me up. He woke me up twice. Of course, the first time, I asked him to, but the second time was totally uncalled for! What a jerk. He wouldn't even keep his pants on, for crying out loud!

Anyway, we attended Tuesday Lunchday at J.J.'s Pizza Stop. Too bad it was closed. We made the trek over to Hideaway, because the thirst for pizza must be slaked! The pizza was pretty good, but it was too expensive. Ashley tried to steal Washua's mustang from Crystal, but it didn't work. Mustang Sally, you'd better slow that mustang down.

After lunch, I went to work. This was when my day got exciting. You know, from my previous post, that I stole a pic from Jen. What you don't know is that I also stole a pie from the bakery. I carried it around in my pants all day. I would not recommend doing that, by the way. It's messy, it's sticky, but then again, if you're into that sort of thing, why not? It was not just any old pie. It was coconut cream pie. That's right, that crazy roommate Richard's favorite. However, he got none of it, because I ate it all on the way home. It was hella good. It had me feelin' hella good, so I'm gonna keep on dancin'.

At one point during the shift, I had thirteen customers come through right in a row. They had thirteen items each, and the last one had a black crystal ball that called to me. As I stared into it, I traveled back to New York City in the year of my birth, 1588, which, coincidentally, is the year of the defeat of the Spanish Armada in the English Channel at the hands of Admiral Sir Francis Drake. The Native American Injuns I encountered there were not very friendly, so I left. Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe, so proud to live, so proud to die.

After I returned to Wallymundo, and that man in black left with his funny ball, things really started to get interesting. An Hispanic gentleman waltzed in to the store and leapt up onto the conveyor belt of a closed register. "Tengo una fiesta en mis pantalones!" he wailed, then proceeded to rip off said pantalones and waggle his genitals hither and thither. He hopped from lane to lane, dancing about. The Walmart security personnel fast-roped down from the ceiling, assault rifles at the ready, but they all fell, a la Orlando Bloom in Blackhawk Down, breaking their backs. Stephanie, the flirty punk lesbian, and I all tackled him, then tied him up with our fallen comrades' ropes. When he found out we were all over eighteen, he invited us all to a swinger's party. Despite our intense desire to be in a VH1 late night special, we declined, but we kept his brochures for their immense literary value. Hey now, you're an allstar, get your game on, get paid. Then I stabbed him in the balls.

The rest of the shift was far less exciting. On my drive home, picture of Jen in phone, and pie in pants, I drove through the sheeting rain with my windows down, completely eliminating any need for a shower, because I brought soap. When I got home, Alex and Sheena were there. Alex and I made sweet sweet lovin' all night. On the table. Over there. And by that, I mean he was there. Their car broke down. I cried a little tear for that, but then they turned their backs, and I did a little jump for joy, because they are here, with me, and the sweet sweet lovin'. I stayed up talking about wacky dreams, pet libraries, damned computers, and shootin' the breeze. I considered going to sleep a little bit. I'm sleeping to dream about you, and I'm so tired of trying to live without you. But I don't mind.




Stuck on the end of this ball and chain,
And I'm on my way back down.
Stood on a bridge, tied to the noose,
Sick to the stomach.
You can say what you mean,
But it won't change a thing.
I'm sick of the secrets.
Stood on the edge, tied to the noose,
You came along and you cut me loose.