Sunday, January 30, 2005

overtime and the bus
by iggy

Today was saturday, so when my fuckwad boss called me up and tried to get me to work OT, I didn't take it well. of course he calls me early and of course I was up late last night playing warhammer (the miniature version, not the goliaths-have-only-350-hit-points-cause-we-don't-give-a-shit-about-balanced-gameplay computer version) with randy and leo, so at first I wanted to tell him to shove it. then I remembered how i have a reputation to uphold at work after I took home the prize for "most dependable" at last years christmas party. you'd think that a gift like that would just be a blessing, but really they are right when they say every blessing is a curse. (and yes, leo, you win that bet about me going a month without mentioning the prize on my weblog).

So, I'm running out of the house at 8:30 and mom stops me to ask about breakfast. I start in with her about the life of a professional and how we live under pressure and hasn't she seen "Wall Street"? when she tells me to stop yelling and how I shouldn't wear ties on shirts without collars. At this point I have had enough of her criticism (she chose the life of a housewife, don't resent my success) and head to the street. My CRX has been busted for a month now (short on funds to fix, broke her doing stunts in the dirt lot next to the home depot, but it was worth the bitchin footage randy got of it. we're putting together an action film and I can't say a lot about it) so I head straight for the bus stop.

now the number 7 busline is a sketchy line. don't get me wrong, we live in a nice part of town. the 7, though, snakes its way from the ardsley suburbs, past the ardsley school for the differently enabled, shoots through us in tarrytown, and ends up in downtown where I work. so the only way that retards (and I can call them retards cause everyone knows retards cant read weblogs) get from their boarding school to the chuck-e-cheese downtown is the number 7 busline. every day on the 7 is an adventure for me, I'd rather ride the 24 (mostly mexicans), but the 7 is an express and the 24 is a local and I can deal with retards to save 30 minutes both ways.

So today when I get on, its just me and two others. things are looking good, as usually I have to keep my eye on at least six of these creatures. today it's a tall black kid about 16 and a smaller asian girl of about 14. Both are in the back keeping to themselves (and away from each other), but as soon as I get on the bus, the black kid locks eyes with me. I find the nearest seat (middle-ish bench) and sit down and turn on my discman. the big black kid seems really interested in me and my walkman and I get to watch him change seats again and again to get closer and closer to me. somehow, he is self-consciousness enough to move one seat at a time, but not enough to stop staring at me the whole time. So I'm sitting there rocking out to Toto's "Africa," watching him creep on up to me.

He gets up right next to me and sits in the seat directly to my right. First, he stares directly at me (from all of 8 inches away), as I look straight ahead, out the window. He stares for a good minute, before he reaches over and grabs my wrist. At this point I'm freaking out, but I don't say anything (I'm afraid if I yell, he'll lose it and bite me or something). So he picks up my wrist and (all this while staring at me) lays the palm of my hand against his cheek.

so, what else could I do? I reached up with my other hand and pulled the cord to stop at the next bus stop, and just kept staring straight ahead. when I got off, I washed my hand in the puddle in the gutter.

I waited for the next 7 bus. I was late to work.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

first actual post
by iggy

So this is my first weblog entry. What do I say? I've read others, but never the beginnings. I only read them when they get big and good. Why spend time reading crap? maybe if I went back and read how the good ones started (most likely crap then) I'd have some sort of idea how to start this thing. fuck it, I can handle this.

So today I was in albertson's supermarket. There's this checkout girl loli. Loli's not as slutty as the name sounds, but you'll find that out soon enough. Loli has worked there for a long time, and she's about thirty. She used to give me the eyes all the time, she'd be smiling at me and asking if I found everything okay in this really sweet, "grope me now" voice. She was always on my jock, but at the time I thought she was beneath me. After all, she works at albertsons and I'm a quality assurance engineer at *****, need I say more?

So anyway, for the last month, loli has been wearing these new glasses to work. They are these really wide and thin ones with the thick black frames. like the people wear who look really dorky but do it on purpose and everyone likes it that way (it's a zen thing like "bad as in good" from the 80's, I dont completely understand it). Anyway, loli is a total fox now, and I really want to pork her. but you should see the way the checkout guy (big, football) acts with her now, they smile and laugh and he tries to impress her by lifting the 24 soda packs into the carts with only one arm. so, yeah, I think she's too good for me now.

so, today I decide it's all or nothing. I am going to tell her how I feel and how I want her meet me out on the back loading docks when she gets her break. If she rejects me, I figure in the future I'll just always use aisle 1 and buy my groceries in batches of 12 or less. Farsad on aisle 1 is not a hot fox like loli (and the line moves slower cause he also does ice-cream) but at least I'd hold my head high there.

so first, I set up the contents of my cart to maximize my chances of success:
- polish sausage (the set-up),
- grey poupon (have to look cultured)
- baby oil (its to clean off tar from the beach!)

then, when I to the front, I bust out my line:

"You can bag my sausage any time you want."

Except it didn't work out like I had planned. Loli was talking to another customer at the time and didn't hear and it was actually the football kid that was doing the bagging then, and he didn't react to it all that well. I won't exactly tell you what happened after that when I got out into the parking lot, and instead of loli it was the bagger kid on break, lets just say that I won't be coming back to albertson's ever again, even to Farsad's aisle.

welcome to my weblog.

Friday, January 28, 2005

control-alt-delete
by iggy

"Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better even of their blunders."
  --  Friedrich Nietzsche