I'm Studying You

If I had a second ticket to Hell I just punched that too.

Can't let the stink out. He's been hangin' 'round for days.

Pa Dukes got all diesel nation this morning and called me all too ripely at 9:30am to say basically he's come to his senses and picking me up at noon would make no kind of sense since he has shit to do tonight. Score for the kid who doesn't want to let his father down.

Comes like a comet. Suckered you but not your friends.

So I went to BK with Winkz, talked to Katie a lil, and broke off for Walgreens. Where that freakshow of a cashier adressed me, by name, to some co-worker over the phone, adding that I was her "favorite pain" to the tail end of her conversation.

One day he'll get to you, and teach you how to be a holy cow. You do it to yourself, and that's what really hurts.

If someone would like to answer the question of why I spent 20+ minutes making conversation with this, uhhh, female and enduring her potshot attempts at my life, I would love to hear it. But only if you give me some props for me breaking it down on the 1 and telling her what she should already know...that I pass enough places to buy a newspaper at, and I don't come for her "customer service".

You do, and that's what really hurts. You do it to yourself.

We deduced that if I worked with her we'd kill each other. I mentioned something about being her boss and she didn't appreciate that, but she just now has understood me when I said previously that I worked in a drug store. I guess being obvious to her is akin to actually following instructions, reading road maps correctly and behaving properly in public. All of which I do. Except maybe that last thing.

One day I'll get to you, and teach you how to get to purest Hell. You do it to yourself, you do, and that's what really hurts.

All having pretty much been said, I spent way too much time there with that crazy woman. All for a high-five that I initiated, no less. Fuck. I'm back on that wagon again. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing. (Notice the absence of a question mark...that means it's not a question, so don't answer it.)

It's almost 4pm already and I'm late for a nap, plus Katie said she was gonna stop by to sell me some knives. Kitchen knives, not military ones. But that doesn't mean we can't stab lotsa stuff. Plus I have to find the Radiohead cd with the sick live version of Just before tonight's premeditated shenanigans we're hoping to pull off tonight at the lawn fete. All I can say is it involves a boom box and a song that contains lyrics like "It ain't my job to fuck you on your birthday...anymore" with dancing and hopefully not getting asked to leave, politely or otherwise.

So I'm out to look at cookware utensils. So peace and stuff. I love this chick, by the way. And that one too. And you.