La musique: I'M A COWBOY, BABY.

From:
To: l****1@hotmail.com
Subject: Harbour Station Notification Service
Sent: June 30, 2004 4:04:26 PM
HARBOUR STATION EVENT INFORMATION
---------
The man known around the world as Kid Rock will bring his genre-blurring musical mash to Harbour Station on Friday, August 6 ..... in his only New Brunswick appearance. Tickets go on sale July 10, at 10 a.m.

KID ROCK
6 Aug 2004

HAHAHAHAHAHA.
I want to go.
Really.

I think I'm going blind. I can't see what inning it is in baseball on TV, I have a hard time reading license plates, street signs, etc. I see light as more of a fuzzy blur than they should be. I think it might be a good time to go to an eye doctor. Maybe I have maccular degeneration. Fuck I'm a hypocondriac. Just last week I thought I had early onset alzheimers.
Another good reason for me to hit up the eye doc is because I might not have a health plan that'll pay for it much longer. That's right people, I MIGHT HAVE A NEW JOB. I have an interview tomorrow for a bilingual tour guide at the Hillsborough River Eco-centre. This place is like 10 minutes from my house, the only catch is, I have no clue how much it pays. It sounds fucking choice though.
To prep for this shift, I slept all day and had a 14 hour sleep.
Things I dreamed about.
1. My mom beaking up with her boyfriend.
2. High speed choreographed candy stealing
3. Living in a roadside shanty town with a group of vagabond kids, constantly fleeing the police.
4. I had a dirtbike. Motherfuck, I loved that dirtbike.

La musique: SlowcoasterJimmySwiftBandIronGiantScratchBastidGrandTheftBus.

Spent the weekend at the Shoreline Festival. A brief synopsis:

- Drank to excess.
- Smoked " ".
- Ate in Tignish.
- Got rained on a mother fucking lot.
- Slid 20 ft down a muddy hill on my stomach for a sum totalling $35.
-Am currently scratched to shit from above endevour.

End scene.

La musique: Jock jams 2

Roll call for team Stratford.
We are looking at having a WinSlow- Statford game ASAP.
Applicants should live, have previously lived, or be prepared to pledge allegance to mother Stratford.
No head games or Fucking around. Just bring the game.
Post your name and prefered position below.

I'm playing the "action corner." (3rd base).

La musique: Set me free- Velvet Revolver

From my Driver's improvement course Intro assessment test:

Q: Why do people violate the highway safety act?

A: I blame peer pressure, movie violence, and rap music.

Ask a stupid question...

La musique: Dead skin mask- Slayer.

So Friday morning I got up at crowpiss to meet the crew, and we proceeded to the booming metropolis of Moncton to attend the show. After stoping in Shediac to hang out with the giant lobster, and stopping three times for directions. We finally arrived at The Scenic Motel, Moncton's finest 1 .5 star hotel at approx 1 o'clock.
Included in price of hotel:
-1 can of pop (stolen)
-two double beds, one twin (read: cot) with smurf blankets!
-Creepy horror movie vibe that we were all about to be disembowled. It was determined Chrissy would be the only one to survive.
The 'office' included such gems as a 1992 world champs Toronto Blue Jays plaque, Toy cars shaped like postal vans, and a dog that looked like a toupee.
We hit up the beer store, I promptly dropped 106 bones on beer. After some 'down time' we decided to hit up the parking lot and drink there.
Waited in line, got my camera past security, got right up to the front. I enjoyed the Damageplan set (at least more than my cohorts) mostly because I caught a Vinnie Paul drumstick. Caught the first few Slayer songs, but about that time the gate I was leaning against gave way. While the security guards were holding it up, there was no way for me to tell there were crowd surfers coming behind me. I got kicked in the head pretty good, resulting it what I'm pretty sure (in my expert medical opinion) was a concussion. Time to exit that scene. After walking around the arena horribly confused I decided to sit as far back as I could, and still watch the show. No dice. With the urge to vomit, dizziness, headaches , sensitivity to light, I figured the worst place for me to be was a heavy metal concert. I headed out to the car, and tried my best not to pass out. But when we went back to the hotel I did just that.
The trip home was uneventful. We were all too motherfucking tired to be entertaining. Oh wait, we visited the giant chicken.
Saturday evening me and C-Rock hit up the drive in and saw Shrek 2. I didn't like most of the movie, but it certainly livened up at the end.
Sunday, we played some baseball. And had other drug-video camera combo related tomfoolery. Chuck hurt his coxsus (sp?) and tried to blame it on me. I mean, just cause I was chasing him with a giant rock....

La musique: Love lost in a hail of gunfire- Bleeding through

So I woke up at 5am this morning and two of my three blankets were missing. I searched all around my bed and on my floor, as I often toss them off me during the night, but they were nowhere to be found. I opened my bedroom door and found them folded in the hallway. No one else in my house folded them, so not only while asleep did I somehow sepparate and take two of my blankets to the hall, but folded these big friggin blankets as well.

I don't even fold things when I'm awake.

La musique: throwdown- nothing left

"There are too many governments in the world today, not only that, but there are too many religions." - From overheard 'discussion' at work.

It's ignorance like this that makes me wonder why man hasn't imploded this planet already.
I'm tempted to go over and tell the fucker I am a Jehovah's witness (I'm not), and tell him he's as good as fired just to see how white he turns. However, such a display would require some coordination, logical thought, among other things. None of which I can muster at the present time. Plus I'm a fucking pussy.

Also, NOW 19! so go to town.

La musique: talk shows on mute- Incubus

I do believe I did something like this shortly before I quit Wal-mart. Coincidence? I suppose we'll see.
Things I hate about my motherfucking job.
By Matt Ling

First, I'll say that majority of our customers are either old and senile, or young and very, very angry. Both groups are incredibly stupid. If you pay over $60 for a hardcover book you can get at Indigo for $30, you're asking to get ripped off.

Things customers do to piss me off
(i) Know your goddamn account number. You wouldn't call the bank and go, "Oh, can you just search my name?" Don't do it with us either.
(ii) This usually coincides with (i), aggravating me further: Assume I know who the hell you are. People will say "This is Christine from Langley BC" -Oh certainly Ms. Christine, you've given me everything I need with that stupid, inane, description of yourself.
(iii) Don't fucking interupt me. If I had a dollar for everytime this happened I wouldn't fucking be here:
"Okay, just for identification purposes, I need...
"Yeah, I don't want that magazine anymore."
I already barely care about what your problem is, don't make me care less.
(iv) Don't act like whatever your problem is, that 'we just lost a customer' Who cares? Not me, I still have a job, not our company, we're still a multi-gazillion dollar operation. Nobody cares that you hate us, smarten the fuck up.
(v) If you don't speak or understand ENGLISH or FRENCH. Don't call us. If I wanted to speak Punjabi I'd fucking live in Pakistan you wanker.
(vi) This is just the catch all for what 1-5 missed. If you're stupid, i.e. 'I don't think I should have to pay shipping' or 'has my recipient paid for the gift I'm giving them yet?'
Don't bother me. If you think you've won in the sweepstakes, you haven't. Don't bother me. Just save us all a lot of trouble and walk in front of a goddamn bus.

Second, Everything we do is fucked up and/or barely legal. Not in the good pornographic way, but in that if somebody sticks a sticker in the wrong place, we ass fuck them with a series of books that are $33 bucks a pop, but cost us less than a dime to make. If you don't let us know otherwise, your magazine is automatically renewed. But since we 'inform' you of this option and because of other mumbo jumbo, it's legal. Our promo mail is so sketchy that I'm tempted to find the knobs and write my name. I'm not even going to try to explain combined billing, I do it enough as it is. And this shit is stuff I have to explain/justify to people on a hourly basis.

Third, if you are a red-headed coworker of mine, chances are I hate you. I may want to throw you out of a moving car. Just because you missed your gravy smoothie this morning is no reason to harp on me for not doing one of the many, many things that I'm supposed to be doing absolutely perfectly. Which brings me to...

Fourth. I DO EVERYTHING. You see, our calls are divided into three main categories. Billing (cancels, etc), Retail (orders), and Customer Service (everything else). Most people take one or two of these, some even in both languages. I AM THE ONLY PERSON who takes calls of all three types IN BOTH FRENCH AND FUCKING ENGLISH. I'm a busy guy, I take a lot of shit, and who cares? No one. No shit I'm pissed.

That being said, I'm writing this at work, listening to music, shooting elastics at Eagan, and getting paid rather well I might add. But backshifts are a whole other bag of potatoes. I also have a lot fun with the people I work with (save a few) and have met some really super people (you know who you are). I was tempted to quit, and still get unemployment (which I could do). But I think I'll stick here pending something better, I mean, I run this fucking place.