Stupid sleep

I was supposed to go to the liturgy this morning and read.  I couldn't sleep right when I got home, as it was too 'early'.  I wound up actually falling asleep at 2:00 and slept right through my alarm.  I feel rotten.

Paint, what a stupid invention

Today at work they were painting new stripes on the parking lot.  I was out there emptying the trash and I heard "Don't step on the paint!"  I stepped on the paint.  I lifted my foot and inspected the bottom of my boot.  It was covered with yellow paint.  I had left yellow tracks all over the concrete around the trash can and the front door.  I'd also tracked yellow paint all in the store, as I had already stepped in it once without anybody noticing.

The paint guy came up and shook his head.  I said I was sorry multiple times, but he ignored me.  So I proceeded to hop into the store on one foot, with every body watching me, over to the napkin dispenser.  I wiped the paint off of my boot the best I could, and finally said F it and took off my boot and walked around in my sock for a while, until I had time to clean my boot.

I went back outside and the paint guy was kneeling over my footprints, mumbling over and over, "You gotta be kidding me!"  Well, I got a little irritated at that, as I had apologized multiple times.  So I said to the guy, "That's what happens when somebody steps in wet paint," and I turned around and went back into the store.

Later I found the graffiti remover and went outside with a piece of steel wool and made some progress in cleaning up a lot of the footprints.  The paint guy saw this and asked me if I had any more steel wool, and maybe some more of that graffiti remover, and I said, "Here, you can use these," and I left the steel wool and graffiti remover there for him.  I went back into the store and cleaned my boot because I was tired of looking like a retard with one boot and one sock.

After a while I went after the footprints in the store.  As I was on my hands and knees cleaning it up, a customer saw me and said, "Some idiot customer do that?" Uh... "Yeah," I replied.  The customer said, "You'd think whoever it was would have been smart enough to notice the guys out there painting the parking lot and would have watched where he was stepping.  God, some people are idiots."  I guess the general consensus is that I'm an idiot. :p

A couple of hours later I got white paint all over my shirt when I rubbed against the door frame, which had just been painted, as I was trying to squeeze past one of the renovator guys who had set up shop on the floor right there in the doorway.

Toxic fumes

They are renovating the 7-Eleven where I work, and the air is filled with toxic fumes... paint thinner or mineral spirits, I'm guessing.  It smells like rubber cement.  I felt sick all night last night at work.  Anyway, to distract me from the imminent feeling of projectile vomiting, I took notes on customer reactions to the toxic air.

"Oooooh, that smell!" (Sounds like a Lynard Skynard song)

"How can you not get high?" (I dunno, I guess it's the sick part that prevents it)

"That smells good."

"I'll bet you go home with a headache."

"You're getting high for free!" (No I'm not, I'm getting sick for free)

"Smells like permanent marker."

"You guys should charge at the door!"

"It smells like model airplanes in here."

"It's a wonder your head isn't hurting." (It is)

"Whoa, now I'ma gettin' high!"

I think it's interesting that 5 out of 10 comments reference getting high, or that it smelled good.  I guess that demonstrates the demographic of our customers.

Reading out loud

This afternoon I was walking to Kroger to grab some fud; my nose buried in a brand new science fiction novel. As I was walking and reading, the urge struck me to start reading out loud - loudly. Not only that, but I also felt compelled to do it in the thickest, crappiest, most obnoxious British accent I could manage.

As I was walking down Panhandle, prattling away all prim and proper, I heard somebody chuckling. I looked to my left and to my horror saw a mom, dad and daughter sitting on their front steps and looking at me with these huge, unabashed grins on their faces. The chuckles were coming from the dad.

Having been discovered red handed indulging in one of those retarded moments that I usually reserve for 'Happy Idiot Alone Time', I had no choice but to continue, as if yammering the contents of my book out loud like a raving lunatic with a bad British accent, for the benefit of the entire neighborhood, was a perfectly normal thing to be doing.

Work today

Today a customer wanted some snuff. 

Customer: "Gimme a canah grizzelubinterninecut."
Me: "Huh?  I didn't understand what you said."
Customer: (rolls eyes and points)
Me: (I grab a can of Grizzly Wintergreen fine cut) "Is this it?"
Customer: "Yuh."
Me: "Would you like a receipt?"
Customer: "Nathasubuh." (that means he didn't want a receipt)

Randy came in when he got off work, as usual.  Matius high tailed it to the coffee bar, leaving me to deal with him.  I held my breath and got through it.

Ryan: (emerges from the cooler and approaches me) "Randy was just here, right?"
Me: "Yeah."
Ryan: "You know how I could tell?"
Ash: (I can guess) "How?"
Ryan: "When he opened the door to the cooler to grab his beer, his smell wafted in.  Somebody needs to introduce that guy to a bar of soap."
Chiy: "That Ryan.  Ryan smells.  You sure that not you Ryan?  Matius, that Ryan.  Don let him fool you.  He stink up whole cooler."
Ryan: "Shut up Chiy."

Today I got the Green Card!  That means that an undercover agent tried to buy cigarettes from me and I passed the test!  Not really though.  I didn't even card the guy, but he gave me a green card anyway.  That's twice that's happened to me, that I didn't card the guy but he gave me a green card anyway.  I must be super uber awesome, just like I always suspected.  I was taking a picture of the card with my camera phone and Chiy saw me. 

Chiy: "What that?  Who give you that?"
Me:  "I got the green card.  See? (I proudly show the card to Chiy)
Chiy: "He give you twenty dollar?  He suppose to give you twenty dollar for getting it right."
Me: "No way."
Chiy: "Yes, he din give you twenty dollar?  He suppose to! You get it right, you get twenty dollar!"
Me: "Yeah right Chiy."

Chiy showed me the CO2 tank today, which was covered with frost.

Chiy: "Maintenance come in on Saturday and fix, but it still leaking.  When they come in tonight, you show them guage -" he indicates the guage, which reads half full "- is half down from when he fill.  He suppose to fix but he din.  You get him to fix, or we all choke and die on CO2 leak." (he pats me on the shoulder and walks away chuckling)

Lesson

Lesson learned.  Never go to vigil drunk, or even half drunk.  It's best to just stay at home.  That way you only  have one thing to regret.

Surprise!

Last night I dropped my book when I was out walking.  To my surprise, it broke into 3 chunks... the front half (which broke into two pieces) and the back half.  Try to imagine a paperback book breaking into 3 pieces and you will probably be able to imagine my surprise.

My stupid brain

Yesterday as I crossed Oak St. on my way to work, I scanned the 7-Eleven parking lot and didn't see Ryan's car parked in its normal parking space.  I could have sworn that Ryan worked on Wednesday, so I was somewhat surprised when I walked in and saw Ryan there at register 1, checking customers.  After I had clocked in, I walked over there and said, "Hey Ryan, where's your car?" 

His facial expression communicated some surprise, and he said, "It should be there.  I hope it's there, otherwise, it's been stolen." 

Huh? thought I.  I turned around and marched out the door and around to the side of the store where Ryan usually parks, and saw his big white... Impala, or something... parked right there, where it usually is.  Wha...?  Huh...?  There it was!  But I KNOW I didn't see it as I was crossing Oak St., and it's not a hard thing to miss.  Like I said, it's a pretty big car, and Ryan always parks it so that it takes up three parking spaces so as to discourage people from parking next to it.  I guess he doesn't want his sweet ride banged up and scratched.

So I went back inside and had to express my befuddlement.  Actually, I knew exactly what had happened.  My brain had played a trick on me again.  Stupid brain.  What my brain does is this... every now and then, when I expect a particular thing to be in a particular place and I'm actively looking for it in that place, my brain will just erase the object I'm looking for from my vision and I won't see it (kind of like how my brain gets green and orange confused).  It's as simple as that.  It happens all the time... when I'm looking for my keys, my lighter, my phone, my cigarettes, my bracelet, my book, etc.  This time it happened with Ryan's car.  Ha ha, very funny brain.  The joke is always on me.  Stupid brain. 

Anywho... 

So I got settled in to register 1 and started checking customers, and an Asian guy wanted to by some smokes.  By the way, I think every single Asian customer who comes into the store smokes Marlboro lights, or a version of Marlboro menthols... usually smooths.  They are all very young and no speakie the Ingles very well, and when I card them they almost always show me a Chinese passport.  Maybe that's just me lumping Asian people into a stereotype because they all look alike to me.

So anywho, like I was saying, an Asian guy walked in yesterday and wanted to try the new Marlboro Skyline cigarettes.  I was about to ring them up when he asked, "Ah they righter?"  

Huh? thought I.  Righter than what?  Righter, as in better than every other brand?  Hell, I dunno, that's a pretty subjective question and probably different for everyone.  Were they... oh, were the LIGHTER.  As in, like Marlboro lights are lighter than Marlboro reds. 

I asked him, "Lighter than what?"  He said, "Gleen pack.  Gleen ones."  He was pointing to the Marlboro menthols. 

I told him that I didn't know if they were lighter than Marlboro menthols, and that the only thing I knew about the Skyline cigarettes was that they were 'lighter' than Marlboro smooths, because a friend of mine had tried them and told me so.  He thought about this for a few seconds, and then asked, "Ah they righter than Camer rights?  Again, I told him that I didn't know, and that the only thing I did know is that they were lighter than Marlboro smooths.  Again the pause for a few seconds, and then, "Ah they righter than Par Mar?"  Again, I told him that I didn't know, and that the only thing I did know... at which point he interrupted me and said, "Ok, ok," and bought the cigarettes.  I wonder if he liked the Skylines.  I'll probably never know.

Then later a guy came into the store with a couple of those huge bottles of Bud Ice.  He started to hand me his debit card, but I'd never seen him before, so I carded him.  Well, his expression just sank and he looked at me as if I'd just kicked his dog.  He sighed, put the debit card down on the counter, and with great deliberation, reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.  As he dug out his ID, he said, "Man, you've seen my ID before." 

Well, maybe I had seen this guy before, but hell if I remembered him.  So I said, "I get about 500 people a day coming into this store."  I examined his ID and handed it back to him.  He still looked put off.  I swiped his debit card.  "I don't recognize anybody the first 10 times they come in."  He still didn't seem convinced that I wasn't trying to ruin his day.  "I could actually go to jail..."

"Yeah ok, just as long as I get my beer," he said as he rolled his eyes and took back his debit card.  Yeesh.  What was that guy's problem?  When I get carded it always makes my day. 

I really do suck at remembering names and faces, so it usually takes a good dose of personality to make a person stick in my memory.  I can see the guys face in my mind right now.

Saturday vigil

Yesterday I woke up early for Saturday, at about 9:00 am.  I didn't feel like facing the day right away, so I walked to Howdy Doody and picked up a High Gravity lager.  They're 8.1% alcohol, so they have a little kick to them.  I watched South Park all morning and drank my lager, and by 12:30 I was sleepy so I laid me down to have a little nap.  This seems to be becoming a habit for me on Saturdays, getting half drunk in the morning and napping in the afternoon.

I woke up at 4:53 and immediately thought of vigil, which starts at 5:00.  I sat up, bleary eyed and groggy from the buzz I'd just slept through, and my first impulse was to just blow it off.  I would have done it too, if I hadn't picked up my phone and saw a text message waiting for me.  It was from a number I didn't know, and it said:

"Don't forget to go to church."

It had been sent at 3:28 while I was snoozing deeply.  I sighed and cursed inwardly, wondering who it was who had guilt tripped me into going to church.  So, I got up and pulled my hair back, pulled on some shoes, put on my cross, deodorized myself, gargled some mouthwash to get rid of the stale beer breath, grabbed my book and a few cough drops, and headed out the door.

Once I got to church I was glad I went, as I always am when I decide to go to church after struggling with it.  It's the enemy, of course, trying to keep me away from church.  When I got there I venerated the icons, took my place beside Dax, and started singing.

Afterward I read from the psalter while Fr. Justin heard confessions.  Lately I've been the last confession Fr. Justin hears, as was the case last night, and by the time it was my turn it was 9:00.  Afterward, we spent more time just talking than we did on my actual confession.  I enjoy having Fr. Justin all to myself after everyone has left.  He always gives good advice, and he has a way of reassuring me when I think things are a lot worse than they really are.  It was 10:00 by the time I actually started home.

As I was leaving I remembered something that Ryan, a co-worker of mine, said to me once.  He said that since he was Methodist, he didn't have to confess to a priest... he only had to confess to God.  However, where is the opportunity for advice and wisdom from a spiritual father if there is no one to hear your confession?  Any Orthodox Christian will tell you that confession isn't the most enjoyable thing in the world.  It's embarrassing having to relate to someone, in all honesty, your weakest moments and most shameful deeds - but when they say that confession is good for the soul, it really is true.  And not just a private confession to God... but confession to a spiritual father.
 
I felt good as I walked home.

(By the way, Dax is the one who sent me the church reminder text.)

Stuck

It's times like these, when I'm caught in the small hours, that I feel like a prisoner inside myself. That doesn't make a lot of sense though... am I the prison, or the prisoner? Both, I think. I feel despair as a warm, soft hand cupping my face, supporting the dead weight of my head as my tears slowly soak the tangled ends of my hair, gathered in the foreign comfort of open palms. Inside I am so lonely. Outside I can only hope my flawed love serves a fruitful purpose.  I want what's best but it hurts.  I don't want it to hurt anymore.

Lets end this with a picture of a 6 and a half foot man dressed in a black leotard top and frilly tutu with a blond wig and tall black prostitute boots ordering a Whatacatch sandwich at Whataburger. When he ordered it, the cashier looked at him and said, "What A Catch you are!" To which the guy replied, "Who did you think they named the thandwich after, thithter?"

Comfort

Last night I took another long walk, like I normally do. This past spring when I was horribly sad, I would walk through the apartment complex of a particular person who I missed terribly, late at night, as part of my walking route. I'd always feel comforted for a few minutes as I passed through, knowing that this person who had abruptly disappeared from my life was close by.

I took that same route again last night, searching for comfort in the dark. When I got there, I passed by a couple of people standing in the parking lot and talking. I didn't know who it was until I passed by, and she said, "Hey Ash!" It was a girl I know from work who happens to live in that apartment building.

I stopped and was pleasantly surprised to see her. She had just gotten her car back from the shop and was talking to the guys who had fixed it. We stood outside at midnight and talked for about 15 minutes, and then I wished her a good night and continued my reading walk. I felt much better.

Funny how God offers us comfort from unexpected directions.

Dichotomy

Dear God:

What does friendship mean? Does such a thing exist in my life? If so, can it survive, whenever I constantly taint it with my own selfish pride? Is the idea of friendship mutually exclusive to the practice of it, or is that just my own notion? Why is it that when I feel love for someone, I expect something in return? Why can't I be selfless in my love for a friend? Is it just something that I have to figure out, something that will come with time and experience? I want to believe in the truth of selfless love. Is that enough, to want to believe?

Your unworthy servant,
Elias

A problem and a solution

So I just left Walgreens with the baddest-ass LED light known to mankind (I recently lost my reading flashlight). I was excited to get it open, of course, so I opened the package and 3 AAA batteries fell to the pavement. I picked them up and tried to put them in the flashlight, but for the life of me I couldn't figure it out. I spent about 10 minutes looking for a battery receptacle on this thing, then finally went back to Walgreens. The cashier would be my tech support.

So, I went back in and explained my dilemma. The tech support guy at the register manhandled the flashlight for about 30 seconds, when suddenly POP! A piece came off, and lo and behold, there was the place for the batteries.

Now, this story may seem trivial and not worth all the hoop-lah, but I truly was baffled as to where to put the batteries. And now I have a new flashlight, a really BRIGHT one... I mean, this thing is emergency bright. I think I might need sunglasses when I read at night...

A dream - tornado

Matt, Chey, mom and I were in a van driving in East Texas. On the horizon, thunderheads were building and lightening was flashing. The lightening storm became more pronounced and the the clouds began to glow an angry red, deep inside where the lightening was being formed. I watched as an extremely bright, glowing blue bolt struck a power plant, and I exclaimed aloud in shock and amazement.

Thick sheets of rain were starting to cascade down from the distant clouds, and as I watched, the sheets began to narrow and form long, slender tornadoes. I counted four of them... three were angled slightly as they trailed down from the clouds, and one stretched across what seemed to be miles almost horizontally until it finally touched the ground. I began to grow alarmed.

We finally arrived home, which was a flimsy trailer. I knew this wouldn't do, and that we would have to find more substantial shelter soon. Mom and Chey went into the house and I stayed on the front steps, calling to Matt to come inside through the howling wind. He had the hatchback of the van open and was digging around for something. The trees were whipping violently and the clouds were roiling all around. I couldn't get Matt to come inside, so I went in, intent on turning on the TV or a radio and finding out exactly where the tornado was, because it seemed very close.

Mom and Chey had the TV on, and there was a newscaster standing under some trees, talking loudly above the noise of the storm into his microphone, trying to ascertain the location of the tornado from his weather man back at the studio. I watched for a while, but when no details were forthcoming, I went into my room to pack some things. When I entered my room, Mandy, the girl from Alaska who I used to say 'hi' to every now and then, was in there. She smiled at me, turned around, and asked me to help her undo her bra. I felt for the clasp through her shirt and found it, and unhooked it, and her bra fell to the floor. She turned around and smiled and said, "No peeking. Now that we're together, no peeking!" I said, "We have to get out of this trailer! The tornado will tear it to pieces!" And with a mischievous smile, she turned and ran from the room.

I stood there kind of stunned for a second, and then I began picking up some clothes and started folding them. I heard mom and Chey yelling for me to come into the kitchen, so I ran in there and saw them watching the TV. The newscaster was still trying to find out where the tornado was, and then the power went out. I panicked for a second and almost bolted, and then the power came back on again just in time to show the tornado hit right where the newscaster was. The trees behind him literally exploded, and bits of detritus flew through the air at deadly speeds. I watched as several of his crew were impaled with sharp pieces of wood, and the screen turned to static.

I ran outside and the tornado was upon us. I knew there was nowhere to run, so I just stood there. It passed very close to us, but didn't make a direct hit. In a few seconds, it was over, and when the dust settled, there were injured people all around me. One of the news crew was standing with his mouth wide open, a long shard of glass stuck in his throat and protruding obscenely. Tears ran down his face as he struggled with it, trying to pull it out. Another man was impaled through the torso by a long branch which protruded from the ground. Other people were standing around and crying.

Sci-fi care package

Several months ago while I was in Alaska, before I discovered the library, I made a public plea on facebook for somebody to send me a book! I was just kidding, but then Rae, an old friend from Jr. High, took it seriously and sent me a sci fi package while I was in Alaska. She's a librarian and had some spare books lying around.

One of them was called 'The Fey - The Sacrifice', the first book in a 5 part series. I was wary about starting it, but I had read every other book she sent and this was the only one left, so I read it, knowing that I didn't have the other 4 books.

It turns out that it is one of the best books I've ever read, and I have the other four ordered through Amazon. The second one got here the other day and I'm halfway through it. I can't wait to read all of them.

Thanks Rae, for sending me some spare books. I never would have known this particular enjoyment if it weren't for your consideration. Thanks for being nice. :)