Math is Hard
Monday, July 26, 2004
Well since I've moved into a different part of town I've had to adjust to visiting all of the local stores and hot spots for buying things and being hot. There are two major competing grocery stores across the street from eachother. They are both pretty expensive because I think they fire food into the competetor's parking lot from their cannons late at night with coupons attached for only their store. The waste of food is passed on to you, the consumer. I think they also launch teenaged baggers over for really good coupons. I imagine a can of soup would cost $5 if they let baggers take out life insurance policies.
Another place I had to figure out was a new haircut place. I had no loyalties to the place I had gone to before and it was further away so I did not really care which place I was going to say "Cut it really short" to. After searching the phone book (i.e. google local because the phone company hates us for not getting a landline) I found a major chain that was right down the street.
I walked into the hair store and there were children running everywhere! There were little girls running in circles pretending to be airplanes making airplane sounds with their mouths. One girl was putting hair gel in another girl's eyes and she was screaming. As I was watching the scene I heard a small voice say, "Hi, how can we help you today?" I looked around for the source of the voice but all I could see was a tiny girl standing on a stool staring up at me with her hands perched at the keyboard.
After much quizical staring she repeated herself. She used her nubby fingers to type my information in. After that she called over one of the girls that was pretending to be an airplane. She grabbed my hand and led me to a chair. From this point on, my hair was in the hands of a child. She gave a very good haircut, however, the accompanied converstation ironically made my hair try to unglue itself and run into the trash can.
The questions began immediatly at rapid fire as if she was reading them off of a notecard. "So are you working today?" "Is your job hard?" "What do you do?" "Do you like it?" "Do you live here?" "Is it hard?" "Is college hard?" "Where did you go to college?" "I heard it was hard there. All of my friends failed out there." "Did you like it?" "I wouldn't want to be a teacher. It would be too stressful." "Wouldn't it be nice to make money for doing nothing?" "So are you working today? Oh yeah I asked that hehe!"
I had a lot of trouble thinking of ways to dumb-down my job for her so I just said I worked at McDonalds. That job was probably still too hard for her. She probably thought I was her age and I could be her sugar daddy so she could come to McDonalds and get free food and happy meal toys whenever she needed them.
The search for a new haircut place continues next month...
posted by Ghengis @ 8:00 PM,
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The North Wing
Monday, July 19, 2004
I don't like putting things in boxes just so I can drive across town and then take them out of the boxes. The only way that would make any sense at all is if I wanted to have a bunch of boxes at my new apartment that I can trip over while I leave my things inside of the boxes because unpacking is a full time job and I already have a full time job so I will have to hire someone to do this.
The better way is to back my car up to my room at home. The trouble is that there is a fence in the way so I have to make a slide like they have in airplanes and let that be the means to which all possessions reach their transportation destination. This method makes the floor of my car into a sea of broken glass, computer parts, and dishes. I don't get too upset about broken things though because it makes the decision to get rid of it for me. I like to have decisions made for me because it leaves no regrets. I imagine it like having a job at Burger King where all of your decisions are made for you by an angry middle aged woman who is upset that her community college degree in OLS did not get her as far as she had hoped so she takes it out on you and the teenagers throwing ketchup packets at old people. (Oh why did I eat there? My belly and I agree that it is a true regret.)
So I live in a new place now. This is location number 4 since I started letting the internet know what I have been doing. It's really nice because I somehow managed to use the power of the dollar to swindle away the master bedroom with it's own bathroom and the garage that is underneath my feet. We are on the second floor so we have to worry about downstairs neighbors most of the time except in my room we can bore holes into the floor until we pee our pants because my car does not have large enough ears to be damaged by heavy machinery. However, we have to wait to drill until the day I decide to pick up my scattered unboxed items that are currently blacking out the carpet.
The apartment overall is larger than I remembered and all of our guests have been impressed. There is a problem with airflow though. every time I pass my room's door it wakes up a ghost. That ghost then starts hooting or making ghost sounds and that scares the whole earth into tipping eastward and my door closes every freakin time I walk past it. My roommates are already concerned that I am a recluse and hate them because I keep closing my door when I come in here. They obvioulsy haven't met the ghost yet. Maybe he's only in my wing.
I get to work 17 hours on Wednesday.
posted by Ghengis @ 11:36 PM,
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