Wednesday, December 17, 2008

A dream - degenerate matter

We were traveling through the void, the ship and I. How long we had been traveling, I can't say. Time didn't seem to have much meaning for us, as the stretch of awareness which I was currently experiencing had just seemed to fade in from black oblivion, condensing out of nothingness. When I tried to remember back to something else, I only encountered the frayed ends of existence. It didn't matter.

The ship's representation appeared before me on a large computer screen. It was just an abstract jumble of lines which vaguely formed the features of a face. Noticing the screen for the first time, I took note of my immediate surroundings. Everything around me was gray and featureless, and I found myself strapped into a comfortable reclining seat. I turned my attention back to the face on the screen.

"We are going to encounter degenerate matter soon. I won't be able to continue, it will be the end of my mission. You must be my eyes."

"But how?"

"I will give you mine. You will be in contact with me until the last second. I will relay you all information that I can gather."

Suddenly my awareness was outside the ship. I could see it in front of me, heading for a bright object which was radiating fiercely in all spectra. Then I saw myself. I was a ring of components sailing along behind the ship, recently detached. As I watched, another ring detached from the ship. I knew that this ring was the ships' eyes. I willed my ring towards the eye ring. We touched, and together formed two rings which joined at a common tangent. My view backed away until I could encompass the entire system. We were heading straight for a dense ball of degenerate matter, the source of the radiation. With the ships' eyes, I could see every band of the electromagnetic spectrum, from gamma radiation to radio waves, as the energy was thrown violently into space. This energy acted like a kind of wind, and with my 'infinity' configuration, I was able to spread out like a sail and catch these rays. The powerful rays buffeted me violently, slowing my forward velocity and eventually reversing my direction. The ship, however, had also spread itself into a new configuration. It became a sparse net which passed the battering ram of energy through it evenly and cleanly. The ship actually sped up as the gravity of the degenerate matter gained more and more influence, and slowly the core became visible.

Seeing with the eyes of the ship, I magnified the dense ball until I could make out it's structure. It looked like a cluster of red spheres, all of them close together and touching, with a soft, snowy material acting as a kind of mortar that held the spheres together. I only got to observe the detail closely for a few seconds before the ship slammed into it at close to the speed of light.

The explosion was spectacular. I have it all recorded. As I play it back in slow motion, I can see the cluster of spheres starting to expand as the ship impacts it's surface. A tiny explosion bursts forth, lighting the snowy material and causing much of it to evaporate. As the explosion gains force and grows, the spheres start to unravel until they become flat hexagonal planes which meet and join, forming a kind of soccer ball pattern. This new configuration continues to expand, and even with the video slowed down to millions of frames per second, the speed with which it grows is marked. My view zooms out as the sphere grows, keeping it within the viewframe. Finally, a critical threshold is reached, and the hexagonal structure flies apart, releasing a bright, surging turmoil of energy. Once this energy is free, the explosion increases it's expansion exponentially. The shock wave finally reaches me and I am pushed violently away. The explosion continues to grow and grow, until it encompasses the entirety of existence, and I am finally pushed beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. As I drift aimlessly and eternally, once again surrounded by void, I realize forever that I have witnessed the birth of a new universe.

A dream - things to come

It was damp and overcast as I walked down the empty suburban street. Everything was still and quiet. There were no cars parked anywhere, and no other people visible. There was a chill in the air, and the humidity made my breath come out in dense white clouds. Everything was described in oppressive shades of grey. The only sound was the noise of my feet striking the sidewalk, and that was muted and dull. There was a thin fog, not enough to really obscure anything, but objects in the distance looked as though they were only partially there, as if my reality was traveling through a phantom world that only took on substance as I approached. I tried a shout, just to break the oppressive silence. The sound was instantly smothered and clipped short, as if by dense cotton, with nary an echo. I put my hands in my pockets and concentrated on the sidewalk. I had a green pillow tucked under my arm. At least, it was supposed to be green. I remember it being green, anyway... but here it was just grey.

After a while I heard something behind me. It was another set of muted footsteps. I turned and saw a girl following, just barely visible on the edge of the fog. She was wearing a green button down shirt and blue jeans, and her hair was pulled back. She had her hands in her pockets, the same as me, and was studying the sidewalk in front of her, the same as me. I continued walking, looking back every now and then, but she never looked up. I realized that her green shirt was the only color besides grey that was visible anywhere. I thought about that for a while, and then realized that her shirt was a Subway shirt. You know, the sandwich place. I seemed to remember them being red before, but they were green now, apparently. I wondered if she was walking to work. I tried to sync my steps with hers, but every time I managed to merge the sounds together, she would move them out of sync again. It sounded like my footsteps were echoing. After a while I stopped trying to sync the sounds, as I rather enjoyed the false echo. It made things seem less oppressive. Maybe she was doing that on purpose.

I finally came to an intersection and stopped. I expected to find my car parked there. It wasn't. This was quite a shock to me, that plus the realization that I had been walking here expecting to find it. I cut across somebody's yard stopped at the curb where my car was supposed to be parked. I looked around frantically, panic building. Apparently, someone had stolen my car. I tried to scream out loud, and I know that I meant to shout "Somebody stole my car!", but it only came out as a stammer, a series of smothered sounds that were supposed to be words but were only noises. I fell to my knees, dismayed and broken. I covered my hands with my face and I sobbed quietly. After a while, I wiped my hands on my pants and looked up. To my right I saw an old couple on the front lawn of the house which this particular curb served, the one I had cut across. They were raising an American flag. There was no color in the flag; it was all grey, and as they raised it, it disappeared into the dense fog. This surprised me, and it was then that I noticed for the first time that the tops of all of the houses and trees were obscured by a low ceiling of fog. I tried calling out to the old couple, to ask if they had seen my car. The words came out jumbled again and were immediately smothered by the cotton effect. The old couple regarded me for a few seconds, then went inside.

I suddenly felt extremely tired so I laid down on the sidewalk with the pillow under my head. I was just about to drift off when I heard the muted footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes and saw two sandal clad feet stop right in front of me. I looked up. It was the Subway girl with the green shirt. She sat down next to me. After a while, she snatched my pillow away.

"Hey, give that back." Funny, I was able to talk again.

"No. You don't need it. I want it."

I couldn't think of anything else to say immediately, so I just laid my head back down on the concrete.

"Do you see that bird over there?"

"Huh?" She was talking again. I propped myself up on an elbow and looked around. The girl was pointing to a black bird which was hopping around on the lawn of the old couple. I confirmed that I did in fact see the bird.

"Watch what it does."

I watched. The bird hopped towards us and then stopped. Then it hopped again. It was finally on the sidewalk beside me. I stared at it intently. It stared back. Then it pecked my arm.

"Ow!" I sat up and rubbed my arm. The girl was laughing. I tried to reach for the pillow but she pulled it out of my reach.

"Do you know who stole my car?"

"I think Clint took it. You knew that though, why ask me?"

I laid back down on the sidewalk, on my back this time, and covered my eyes with my forearm. Yeah, I guess I did know that after all. Clint had taken the car, and he would likely crash it or get it impounded or something. The girl stretched out and put her legs on my stomach. I looked at her legs and then looked at her, reclining easily on my pillow. I massaged her leg distractedly.

"Do you work at Subway?"

She didn't reply. Instead, she leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.


This morning at, oh... around 3:00 am, I woke up and decided to read a little. It was chilly in my room so I turned the heater up some and got back in bed. This didn't satisfy me immediately, so I reached down on the floor to grab the shirt I was wearing yesterday... and immediately snatched it back. Ow! MOTHERFUCKER! SOMETHING FUCKING STUNG MY FINGER! FUCKING FUCKING COCKSUCKER SHIT! I shook my hand like it was on fire, because it sure as hell felt like it. I fumbled around on my nightstand for my lighter so I could light the oil lamp. Waves of pain corruscated from my finger as I flicked the lighter, forcing me to stop and shake my hand again and then flick again and then shake again, flick shake, flick shake flick shake. Finally the pain settled down to something bearable after about a minute, and I was able to get the lamp lit. I turned it up and held my finger up to the light, examining it intently for the injury. I couldn't see anything at all. It wasn't red, it wasn't swollen, there wasn't a bite mark, nothing. After about another minute, the pain had faded completely. Well, by that time I was in no mood to stay up and read, what with excruciating pain being one of the first sensations of the day, so I blew out the lamp and went back to sleep.

At about 5:30 I woke up again and decided to give it another go. I lit the lamp first and put it on the floor. I got out of bed and examined the area around my shirt, searching for signs of whatever it was that had caused me grievous harm earlier. I didn't find anything, so I carefully picked up my shirt and gave it a thorough going over. Finally satisfied, I put on my shirt and proceeded to start a new novel by Orson Scott Card called Invasive Procedures. It's a medical thriller, not the usual fare by this author, but he's never let me down. I was just starting to get into it, when lo and behold, a god damn hornet lands on my lap. You little motherfucker, I thought, as I carefully closed my book and SLAMMED IT DOWN ON THAT FUCKER WITH ALL MY MIGHT. Now, hornets are tough little bastards, so I was sure that it was still alive and wriggling under the book, as it was pressed against my soft blanket. I looked around and found a piece of paper, which I folded up twice, and carefully lifted the covers and the book and reached underneath and SMASHED. After holding it there for about 30 seconds, I carefully lifted the book. Yup, it was still alive and wriggling, so I picked it up with the paper and folded it up inside about 3 times, then shoved the whole thing into an empty orange juice bottle that was on my night stand. Bye bye hornet, you shouldn't have stung me you fucker, now you get to die crushed and suffocating in a plastic bottle.

I am somewhat surprised however that there is no mark on my finger at all. I've been stung by wasps and bees before, and invariably there will be a red, swollen area with a small little prick mark where the sting occured. Not so with the hornet. Weird. I guess hornets just ain't got shit on me.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Graveyard Shift

Last night at about 9:00 pm a cold front blew in. It went from 70 degrees to 30 degrees in a matter of minutes. I had already washed what I was going to wear to work (in the bathroom sink with dishwashing detergent) and dried them (center oven rack at 225 degrees) so I had no choice but to wear them, as everything else was dirty. These articles consisted of a plain black polo shirt, undistinguishable from any other plain black polo shirt except for '7-Eleven' printed unobtrusively along the edge of the left sleeve, a pair of socks (they match), and some khaki colored shorts that have that built in underwear that's a kind of a synthetic knit fabric or something. Like a swimsuit but not a swimsuit, as it has pockets and stuff. I hadn't been outside since about 8:30 when I hooked up my inverter to the cigarette lighter in the car for the purpose of providing my laptop with power, so after getting dressed, I opened the door. My face, arms and legs (the bare parts of my body) are immediately ensconced in freezing cold air.

At first I didn't really process that information because I could have sworn that an hour ago it was 70 degrees outside. I even almost fooled myself into chalking it up as some kind of tactile hallucination, but halfway to the car I had to turn around and go back in the house for a jacket. Damn, and there I was in the only clean clothes I own currently, most significantly the pair of khaki shorts. I imagined that I would be suffering some freezing cold cigarette breaks later on, which turned out to be true.

So, I worked with David last night, the new Chinese American guy. Up until I started working with him, I hadn't been sure what to expect from the guy, as I had heard reports that he was kind of... well, slow. This turned out not to be the case. Not only was David probably just as smart as the next Joe Schmoe, he's also just about the friendliest peson I've ever met, aside from this guy named Eddie who I used to work with at The Alps Restaurant in Mt. Pleasant (my old stomping grounds in East Texas). Anyway, like I was saying, David is just uber friendly and a very likeable guy. I quite enjoyed working with him, as he always had something to say and seemed genuinely interested in whatever I had to say. He was extremely eager to learn new things, so I showed him how to do write-offs, how to enter data into the MOT, and oddly enough, how to sweep. He actually asked me if I would show him how to sweep! I thought this an odd enough request, but I obliged him and before he knew it, he was sweeping like a pro. His only real problem that I noticed last night was when he was selling beer. Occassionally a group (usually three or four) of young kids would all be at the counter with one of them purchasing a 12 pack or whatever. Now, Texas state law requires that we card not only the person who is purchasing the beer, but everyone who is obviously with that person. The reason for this is because some of them might be underaged, even if the purchaser is over 21. In the eyes of the law, the person purchasing the beer could realistically be buying it for one of the accompanying minors, and if we sell it to that person without carding everyone and one of them turns out to be a minor, we could be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor and go straight to jail. So ANYWAY...

Several times David was presented with this situation, and each time he would only card the one person. Each time I would advise him that he should card everyone in the group. After a few times, I felt like I might have been coming off as a nag, so I told him that I was only trying to look out for him because I didn't want him to go to jail (which was true). Once I mentioned jail, he sat up and took notice. Well, as it turns out, we have both been to city lockup before and neither one of us had found it to be a pleasant experience. After that he carded pretty much everyone.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully with both of us growing progressively more weary as the minutes dragged on. I'd have to go outside for a smoke for the sole reason that the freezing cold would wake me up somewhat. When I went into the cooler to stock it after coming in from outside, it actually felt pleasant in there. So, David and I both stayed in the cooler for a good long while stocking beer and gatorade and water and all the other various shit that needs to get stocked in the cooler.

The end of the shift finally arrived, as shift endings are wont to do, even though it seemed like a small eternity before it happened, especially because Mike C. was running about 15 minutes late. This was going to REALLY piss me off if it got much later with him not showing up, as he had been at the store earlier, at around 3:00 am, riding out the tail end of a late night drunk. This didn't seem like a very wise thing to do, getting drunk the night before you're supposed to work, and actually being drunk three hours before you're scheduled to show up, but hell, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't ever done it. However, with Mike C. growing later with every passig moment, I could only visualize him passed out somewhere, oblivious to the fact that his presence was required immediately at the local 7-Eleven so that I could scoot my happy ass home.

Terry arrived at about 6:15 and proceeded to call Mike C., who conveniently wasn't answering his phone. By 6:20 I asked Terry if I could go ahead and count my drawer, and with a furrowed brow he agreed. After I counted my drawer, at about 6:28, Mike C. came staggering in. 'The prodigal son returns!' I exclaimed loudly and with marked enthusiasm. He just kind of grunted and continued walking towards the office, his head lowered, his shoulders hunched, his eyes half closed, walking with a shuffling motion in which his feet never actually lifted from the floor... they just kind of slid-scooted-stumbled the rest of his body forward. Poor guy. Oh well, I'm done, that's all that matters.

After that, Terry gave me my performance review. I got called on dress code adherance, due to my ubiquitous 5 o'clock shadow, plus he said that sometimes I wear too much jewelry and that I shouldn't wear rings that are 'spiky'. I'll keep that in mind in case I am ever tempted to wear a spiky ring. And that 7-Eleven employees are only allowed to wear two earrings. I'm wearing two earrings, so why did he point that out? I think that what he really wanted to say was that I personally am not allowed to wear any earrings. I'm pretty sure he has a problem with any earrings I might be wearing, plus my long hair, as he actually asked me if I would cut it when he was giving me my interview way back when. I thought this a rather odd thing to say, as I, Ryan, Patrick, and just about everybody else have been wearing shorts to work since before summer, and Terry has never said anything about it at all. Anyway, I wound up getting mostly A's and a couple of B's (I assume those are good grades).

The review finished, I packed up my laptop, put on my jacket, shouldered my backpack and began to make my way to the front door with the intention of vacating the premises real quick and in a hurry. I make my farewells to Mike C. and David and Terry and they all reply in kind. Terry is hold the MOT and studying it intently as I reach for the door, when he says 'Oh, you didn't get to order anything, huh?'

? thought I. Order? WTF? I ordered everything yesterday. Snacks... fountain drinks... coffee... cleaning items... 'Holy crap,' I said, 'I totally forgot to order the CDC.' I curse out loud. 'Dammit! Mother F'er! Crap on a cracker!' So I tell Terry that I'll stay and order the CDC, which I do, and I finally walk out of the store at about 7:30 am.


An interesting occurrence today... I discovered 70 dollars in my PayPal account. OMG LOL WTF BRB GTG ROFL LMFAO BBQ TTYL WTH IMO BTW PWN TEH NOOBZ!!!11!1!! I wasn't expecting that. I merely checked it to see if I at least had a dollar or two to buy some smokes so I wouldn't have to payroll them AGAIN.

So, now I have a new inverter for my car and I am sitting once more in my living room with a fully charged laptop. No more hoofing it to the campus. I don't even have to charge it at work anymore, but as long as I'm on 3rd shift, I'm taking it with me because it gets hella boring up there after about 3:00 am.

Now, as to that 70 dollars. I really have no idea why it's there. I remember transferring some funds from my bank account a couple of months ago so I could buy something online, but I could have sworn I had transferred only enough for the purchase. Hmmm... a miracle, perhaps? Nah, if it were a miracle, It would have been enough to pay the electric bill.

Thusly armed, I drove to Wally World and bought that inverter, plus some more lamp oil and about 8 of these little oil candle things - supposedly they last for about 20 hours. Anyway, the price on the shelf said $1.69 for each one, but when I took two of them to the register they rang up as 20 cents each. I even pointed out to the cashier that they were supposed to be a buck 69, but she said no, they're 20 cents. Ok, says I, so I went back and gathered up 6 more. I was tempted to buy every single one of them but that would be piggish.

So now I have two oil lamps, two oil lanterns, and eight oil candles all burning and my living room is bright and cozy.

One more thing before work

My dog, who is insane, is busy pacing back and forth like a lunatic from the bedroom to the living room. And a while ago he was making the nastiest lickingest sounds as he chowed down on his ass. Schlorp schluck schlorp schlop schluck schlorp schlop. It was disgusting.

With the electricity cut off, there is no background noise like my fan or the fridge, so I hear every little miniscule noise that dog makes as I'm lying in bed trying to sleep. Ironically, it's not so bad when I'm sleeping during the day, as I have been doing lately because I'm working nights... but this dog is, like I said, insane and afraid of just about everything except for the living room sofa. So, he doesn't eat or drink until the middle of the damn night because he's afraid to during the day, and I can hear every irritating crunch of the dog food, every lappity splash as his tongue dips into and out of his water dish, every scritch as he scratches himself in the same exact spot every single day (he likes to be pet there so he scratches it himself), and every pad of his skittish little doggy feet as he paces back and forth from one room to another like the fruitcake he is.

Sometimes when he's making these little noises while I'm trying to sleep, I seriously want to get up and kick the damn dog. But instead, I grab his food and water bowl and take them into my room and shut the door. Then, I prop the broom up in the living room doorway that leads to the kitchen because he is petrified shitless of the broom (as he is of every object or item that isn't the sofa). Thusly barricaded, he won't go near the doorway with the broom standing sentinel, so he stays either in the kitchen or my brothers room.

Now, it may sound like I hate my dog. This is not true. When I'm not trying to sleep, or when my fan is providing adequate background noise, his little noises don't irritate me at all because 1. when the fan is going I can't hear them, and 2. when I'm not trying to sleep they don't bother me. He can be a playful dog, say... in the middle of the night, outside in the front yard, when there are no cars going by, and when there are no people taking walks. In those circumstances, he'll run around and wag his tail and play 'tag' with you. And when he's on the couch, he's like that too, except there's no room for him to run around and play tag, so he just crawls on your lap with his front legs (he's about 50 pounds) and basks in ecstasy while I scratch him in that place he likes to get scratched (the place that makes his back leg thump) and behind his ears. Sometimes as a special treat to brighten up his little doggy existence which is filled with so much terror on a daily basis, I'll make some beef broth and pour it over his food. He likes that.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Choice tidbits

I've been working graveyards for the past few days. Drunken idiots abound during the small hours, especially on the weekends after the bars close. Here are a few choice tidbits:

Sloppy drunk chick: Hey, I wantsh a taquito. Can I gesh a taquito?
Me: (rings it up) Do you want anything else?
Sloppy drunk chick: Yeah, some cock.

Flamboyantly gay drunk guy: (picks up a magazine with Michael Phelps on the cover) Hey, can I buy just the cover of this magazine? He is SOOOO hot! (hugs the magazine to his chest)
Me: (no reply to a question like that)

Really really stoned guy: Hey, whats up! Can you run these lotto tickets through and see if they are winners? I need 20 million dollars so I can buy some WMD's to prove that Bush was right. What? No winners? That can't be right, run em again! Oh well, ok how much? $36.00?? For beer and cigarettes? Well, hell, there goes all of my hard earned drug money. Oh, and run this ticket through also, I think it's worth a couple of mil. What? Two dollars? Hell, ok just give me the cash. No, wait, give me a Weekly Grand. See those guys standing around out there? I'm taking my time just to piss them off, they're waiting for me. I'm buying the beer, so they have to wait! HAHAHA. They can't outrun me anyway. HAHAHA... (etc.)

(two drunk douche bags wearing sunglasses at night)
douche bag 1: (yelling across the store) Hey, what kind of donut you want?
Douche bag 2: (standing at the counter, yells back) Powdered! No, glazed! No, frosted! No, chocolate! No, glazed! No, powdered!
Douche bag 1: (approaches counter with donuts) I bet you have to deal with a lot of drunken idiots late at night, huh?
Me: Yup.
Douche bag 2: We're not drunk though.
Douche bag 1: No, we're not drunk. This job must suck, huh?
Me: It has it's moments.
Douche bag 1: What time do you get off? How long are you stuck in this hell hole?
Me: About 3 hours from now, at 6:00 am.
Douche bag 2: 6:00 am? DAYUM! That sucks! You must really hate this job!
Me: I deal with it ok.
Douche bag 1: Hey man, hey man, we need smokes! Don't forget the smokes, man!
Douche bag 2: Are you guys still selling beer?
Me: No.
Douche bag 2: Dammit! What time did they stop selling it?
Douche bag 1: What time did you stop selling it?
Me: 1:00 am.
Douche bag 1: Damn, that sucks! Why they hell do they do that? Stop selling beer?
Douche bag 2: I don't know man, but it sucks!
(they gather their shit and leave, I step outside for a smoke)
Douche bag 1: (approaches pushing a shopping cart filled with rocks, real estate signs, and broken pieces of wood) Hey man, do you want some rocks? I've got rocks in here.
Me: Nah, that's ok. You keep them.
Douche bag 2: Where the hell did we get this shopping cart, man? Oh shit, we need a ramp or something, I can't push this thing over the curb!
Douche bag 1: What am I gonna do with these rocks?
Douche bag 2: Let's put them in a circle and build a fire!
Douche bag 1: Yeah! (they walk away pushing the cart) Thanks 7-Eleven guy!

Some weird freaky looking guy: (he's in the bathroom for 30 minutes)
Random customers: Hey, whats up with the bathroom? It won't open.
Me: Somebody's in there.
Some weird freaky looking guy: (walks out of the bathroom carrying a large duffel bag) Hey, do you have a comb I can borrow?
Me: Uh... no, not personally, but you can buy one. They're over there.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Oh, ok, thanks man. (wanders over to the comb section, peruses them, then walks up to the counter and just stands there for a while)
Me: (I just stand there for a while too)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (opens his wallet and extracts a VISA card, then looks at the pinpad REALLY closely, his glasses are actually touching it, mumbles something)
Me: (I stand and watch)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (runs his card through the reader repeatedly, mumbling all the while)
Me: That won't work unless you're actually buying something.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Huh? Oh. (wanders over to the coffee bar and fills a cup with hot water) Hey man, how much for the cup?
Me: Nothing.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Ok, cool. (works his way slowly over to the nutritional bar rack)
Me: (keeping an eye on him)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (picks up two Nutri Grain bars and a bag of chips, then stands there for a while)
Me: (keeping an eye on him)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (looks at me briefly, walks to the back of the store, hangs out for a minute or two, then walks towards the door)
Me: Would you like to pay for those Nutri Grain bars and that bag of chips now?
Some weird freaky looking guy: Huh? (looks around nervously, pats at his zipped up jacket, acting confused)
Me: I saw you walk to the back of the store with them. Would you like to pay for them now?
Some weird freaky looking guy: (stands there looking nervous and confused some more, then walks down an aisle with his back to me and subtly puts the chips and Nutri Grain bars on a merchandise rack, then turns around and picks them up) Oh, you mean these? Nah, I don't want them. (he brings them to the counter)
Me: Thanks. (I put them back)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (walking out the door) Hey man, is it clear weather outside?
Me: Uh, I couldn't say. It's pretty dark out there and I can't really see the sky from here.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Oh, ok... (mumbles something and leaves, then pops back in) I'll be back for some more hot water later. (leaves the store)

Those are just a few. My laptop is getting low on power now so I'll post some more later.


Yes, the electricity is still off.
No, my inverter doesn't work anymore.
Yes, I have to hoof it to the college library to charge my laptop.
No, it doesn't last for four hours.
Yes, it lasts for about two.
No, I'm not enjoying third shift.
Yes, there are some amusing drunk people who show up late at night.
No, I'm not asleep right now.
Yes, I should be.
No, I don't want to go in tonight.
Yes, I am however looking forward to the new crop of drunks.
No, I haven't updated my blog enough lately.
Yes, it's because my laptop battery is usually drained.
No, I can't think of any more crap to type.
Yes, I'm going to hit the sack for a few hours.