This legalized prostitution smells of garlic
Insert cigarette... light... inhale...
I awake from six hours of sleep to the gleeful braying of my alarm clock, put on my face with the shaver and off I go, hi ho hi ho, to my new job. Jaded and faded from this life of excess I lead, I could use some raiki or deep tissue massage from my roomate, but no, now that he is a bonified massage theRapist he doesn't give his hand jobs for free anymore. Alas.
Since I started working in Walnut Creek my car has been collecting parking tickets like an old lady collects stupid shit from the Home Shopping Network. It would be less irritating if I didn't notice the meter expiring just as the parking maid is writing her ticket. Blargh. I think I will save all of my bodily waste for one great day, buy a reinforced box, line it with their cute little pink ticket return envelopes and give them a customized donation their city's economy...
It's all good though, because today my Wine Bible came in. I had fun ordering it last week, acting like I knew what I was talking about to some nice lady who sells $175 dollar bottle openers.
No, really. $175 buys you a bottle opener. Sure, they're handmade from Stamina Wood (I'll let you draw your own conclusions) and come with a guarantee, but please. It amazes me that people still get duped by the absurd "If it costs more it must be better" philosophy, which makes the Machiavellian side of me want to sell wine openers to the store for $176 apiece to stir up indecision. Even Stamina Wood sellers have to make a buck, but the whole sales pitch she gave me was still a boot to the head reminding me of how ridiculous our culture can be; and with all the stupidity that oozes out of warning labels and cable TV sometimes I feel like checking myself in to an asylum just to find some people who are actually sane. No wait.... ok. Now I feel better.
The Wine Bible is a thousand pages about wine, where it is made, what goes good with what, and answers all those questions that are only pertinent to gay guys, the bourgeois, or starving waiters trying to get into fine dining. Hopefully, I'll be able to find myself a night job selling wine more expensive than me to the aforementioned bourgeois. At least then I'll be taking their money instead of making it for them, which'll be a change of pace.
Tomorrow will be more jolly, I think. I'm teaching guitar lessons out in Albany for the Morley, and hopefully working more on tracking the album at night... more about that later, for we are about to leave to watch Asia Argento in a new movie. Mm.... Molto Bella Italiana!
I awake from six hours of sleep to the gleeful braying of my alarm clock, put on my face with the shaver and off I go, hi ho hi ho, to my new job. Jaded and faded from this life of excess I lead, I could use some raiki or deep tissue massage from my roomate, but no, now that he is a bonified massage theRapist he doesn't give his hand jobs for free anymore. Alas.
Since I started working in Walnut Creek my car has been collecting parking tickets like an old lady collects stupid shit from the Home Shopping Network. It would be less irritating if I didn't notice the meter expiring just as the parking maid is writing her ticket. Blargh. I think I will save all of my bodily waste for one great day, buy a reinforced box, line it with their cute little pink ticket return envelopes and give them a customized donation their city's economy...
It's all good though, because today my Wine Bible came in. I had fun ordering it last week, acting like I knew what I was talking about to some nice lady who sells $175 dollar bottle openers.
No, really. $175 buys you a bottle opener. Sure, they're handmade from Stamina Wood (I'll let you draw your own conclusions) and come with a guarantee, but please. It amazes me that people still get duped by the absurd "If it costs more it must be better" philosophy, which makes the Machiavellian side of me want to sell wine openers to the store for $176 apiece to stir up indecision. Even Stamina Wood sellers have to make a buck, but the whole sales pitch she gave me was still a boot to the head reminding me of how ridiculous our culture can be; and with all the stupidity that oozes out of warning labels and cable TV sometimes I feel like checking myself in to an asylum just to find some people who are actually sane. No wait.... ok. Now I feel better.
The Wine Bible is a thousand pages about wine, where it is made, what goes good with what, and answers all those questions that are only pertinent to gay guys, the bourgeois, or starving waiters trying to get into fine dining. Hopefully, I'll be able to find myself a night job selling wine more expensive than me to the aforementioned bourgeois. At least then I'll be taking their money instead of making it for them, which'll be a change of pace.
Tomorrow will be more jolly, I think. I'm teaching guitar lessons out in Albany for the Morley, and hopefully working more on tracking the album at night... more about that later, for we are about to leave to watch Asia Argento in a new movie. Mm.... Molto Bella Italiana!
posted by ThoughtMeats at 5:22 PM
2 Comments:
i like deese post. my mom is an old lady who collects stupid shit from the home shopping network. it hurts my soul to see it.
While reading this I was reminded of toyota truck part you should stop by.
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