So, I traipsed on out to my car this morning - all while drinkin' down the grape & strawberry Nerds (which, by the way, it is particularly irritating how I cannot remember which flavor I had last and to alternate from that one. I always end up with one side completely finished and the other is half-full. (HA HA! Not half-empty, my dears! I am optimistic in 2003! I didn't even realize it until just now!) in which to go to work, and on the hood was written in man-scrawl "Please Help Me." Now, I am an easy target for car-writing for some reason unbeknownst to me (occassional "Fuck you"'s with daisy drawings next to them and other sorts of riddling phrases - oh!! oh no!! Fuck me! Damn! Someone must not like my indelible sense of humor and overwhelmingly fantastic presence! Oh no!!!! I shall scrub this car free of its demons so no one will know that.... someone wants me to fuck! This car.... is clear!), so for a split second I rifled through members of the Hen Club that I could point my finger at. Then I went spiraling off, into the deep end, thinking of all the times I had seen people in cars these past couple of weeks that were not really people, or for that matter present - and they looked real, real creepy. The kind that looks dead and is staring right into you - burning a big fat hole in your forehead. This would be about the point when I decided that yes - I had a sixth sense, and some ghostly thing was trapped in my car. I did buy it used, you see. Then, I got over this when the next thought popped into my head ..... maybe my car was trying to tell me something! I hadn't changed the oil in years - the engine light is constantly on!!!!! Help the car, Colleen! Help the goddamn car! DO IT NOW, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS CAR IS CAPABLE OF!
I drove off in a frenzy to work, and forgot about it as soon as that Elvis song about heaven and Oklahoma came on. Then I started thinking of goofy lyrics, such as this "I've never been to heaven, but I've been to Oklahoma..." and then something about how he's never been there either. And that Ludicrous song - with the housekeeper and what do you keep in your how-se. I thought about doing an entry devoted to stupid, stupid lyrics and realized that would take forever. And I don't do research - nosiree. (Oh shite, I just thought of that damn little kitten in that poster that says "I don't do mornings." Who are the people who actually bought that crap? I think that was on a Garfield nightshirt too. Stupid, STUPID, STUPID.)
And the Nerds are finished!!!!!!! Woooo!
I arrived at work and was ready for action! I set off like my loins were a-fire with lust for merchandising! I actually think I burnt a hole in the carpet with my whistling little feet! At least I didn't have the fury of a thousand men, as some jogging retard did as he passed me on the sidewalk! He was jogging in khakis! I will not start jogging around the bookstore! I will not!
So, I redid some displays and gave people a healthy helping of attitude. I find it especially satisfying when people come in on Saturdays and expect "service." Bwa ah haaaa. Fools. Fools! FOOLS!
I might want to cut back on the meals of candy - I might not, though. And that! Is how! We play! The game!