March 1, 2004
Blue Plastic Coffee
I worked most of the weekend again. Friday night until some ungodly hour, like what, 2:30 AM? And then Saturday from 1 PM until 3 AM. It's just ridiculous the lengths to which I will go in order to earn a buck or two. Well, I got rent paid for April. That's good news I suppose.
This day job is killing me, though. Aside from the ignorant white men, the place is like a sauna. OK, it's March now, it has been rainy for a while now, but that's no reason to pump up the heat in the place, you know? And there's no air circulation. So, is it a wonder why it's so hard sometimes for me to keep my eyes open? The monotony of the work, the banal chatter, the oppresive air quality all make for excellent napping conditions. Just clear your throat gently, and I'll wake up. No need to touch me or anything.
And then, on top of all of the other crap I deal with, I get these e-mails, or what I thought were comments to posts I had made. When I saw the name of the sender (which I will not repeat here), I thought, "oh great! Another reader!" But no, there were thirty-five e-mails from this person, and each message said "blue plastic coffee." Every single one of them. Now, what on earth could that possibly mean? If you're going to spam me, please don't give me spam that makes me think. It's terribly annoying.
That's all. Happy Monday.
