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Tuesday, August 31, 2004

3.5.1993

During lunch today I was flipping channels and I caught part of a Woody Allen film. I forget which one it was, but he says something like "There are two kinds of people in the world... the horrible and the miserable. The horrible are those who are blind and crippled and have to live with these awful impairments. Everyone else is the miserable". I better get used to being miserable.

I took the car out to the coast and when I got there late in the afternoon I lit up a nice stinky cigar. I wanted to watch the sun go down and puff away on a stogie. I sat there in the car overlooking the sea on a cliff and listened to Chrome on the stereo. I never watched the sun set over the ocean before. The sky turned a pale yellow and over my left shoulder I could see the moon. There weren't any other cars around and in the distance on the beach I saw a couple small groups of people wandering aimlessly. The waves breaking on the sand were extra choppy so the tide must have been coming in. The crests of the waves picked up some of the yellow color from the sunset and it had the effect of making the water look extra dingy and grimy. I kinda liked it.

2.28.1993

I'm still thinking of Jennifer. I haven't seen her in years. At this point I don't think I'll ever be able to get her out of my mind. Sometimes, at night I dream about her. The dreams are always nightmares. In the dreams I'm with her, but I can't have her. A horrible frustration consumes me and then I wake up. It's worst when I wake up.

My plans for today are to start fixing up the room over at Joe's. The walls need alot of work. I'm going to prep them and hopefully repaint in there by the middle of next week. One of the things I really need to focus my attention on is the carpet. The green carpet in the room right now is real messed up. If I could obtain some grey carpet scraps from the flooring place around the corner that would be much better. I want that green junk out of there. Joe and I discussed the project of finishing up the walls. We decided to start painting on Wednesday afternoon. The extra few days after the prep work will give me more time to pick up a few more supplies. I'm looking forward to getting this done.

Today was Mark's last day here. I'm not going to miss him. It's not that we didn't get along or anything, I just don't like him. Mark was kind of a gangland rap thug. Joe keeps referring to him as a "trigger happy nigger". Whatever. Joe is going to try to not rent that room back out but I don't see how he can afford it. Joe is still out of work, just like me. Being unemployed is stressful. You've got to deal with alot of extra stupid shit. I hate having to worry about how I'm going to get bills paid on time and where that cash is going to come from. Right now I'm grateful for the fact that I don't have any kids to take care of. That would be rough.

Dad has been trying to sell one of his motorcycles again. I left the house before I found out if he had sold it. The bike is some direct drive Honda. He likes his other bike better apparently. That's something about my dad I'll never understand. He never seems to be satisfied with anything he owns. Dad hasn't even had the direct drive Honda more than two months. What's really funny is one of dad's co-workers keeps buying all of his stuff from him. The guy bought dad's last truck, and his last motorcycle. Must be pretty good deals or something. I have no idea.

I've been listening to alot of Sleep Chamber lately.

Monday, August 30, 2004

We Were Heroes

Two weekends ago I was drinking beers in the kitchen at Joe's with my new room mate, Shane Barnes. Shane is a good guy. I knew him a little bit from around town, just an acquaintance really. He's been here for a few weeks and I like him. Anyway we were drinking shoddy beer and reading through some books I swiped from the back of the library. On weekends the library doesn't have any staff and people dump boxes of books off at the loading entrance. The books will sit there all weekend until Monday morning when the library opens back up. I go down there late at night and sift through the donations. I liberate anything that looks interesting to me. My last midnight trip to the library I picked up a few books one of which turned out to be a real treasure. It was published in the early 1950s and the subject matter is Social Deviance. Inside the cover there was an anti-drug booklet published in the 1930s. It's amazing. It sounds just like the drug war propaganda we get bombarded with almost every day. The 1930s booklet whines about getting more money for police to combat the drug menace but the thing that makes this really funny is the only drug they mention is marijuana. According to the vintage booklet marijuana will make you steal things and murder people. It must be true.

So Shane and I are reading through interviews in the Social Deviance book and while we were reading them aloud to each other we tried to get into character and act like the delinquent teenager from the south that got caught putting sugar in his neighbor's gas tank. Or the John who got caught soliciting a iron city prostitute. It was a good time. Every few minutes though we kept hearing some noise coming from the alley behind the house. I don't think either one of us gave much attention to it until one of us thought we heard some yelling. Or a scream. It got too loud to ignore so both of us got up and went out the back door and turned on the porch light.

My eyesight isn't so good anymore and when I stepped off the back porch with Shane it looked like two giant homeless guys were beating up a little Mexican guy. They had the guy stripped down to his underwear and were in the process of working him over. I think they dragged him down the gravel and dirt alley. Both Shane and I had a good buzz going. These hobo guys were big. Filthy too. We didn't have much time to think about what to do but I guess we both decided at the same time to do something to help the little guy. He was really getting tore up. Shane and I both rushed the bums yelling shit at them as we did so. I don't remember what we shouted at them now. They saw us coming straight at them with beer bottles and they dropped the Mexican and quickly walked off in the direction of the railroad tracks. There aren't any streetlights back there so they disappeared into the dark like they had never existed.

Standing over the Mexican, I got a good look at him and realized this was no man. It was a young woman. She barely had any breasts. She was scratched up and bleeding a little. I think she had a few bruises and none of her clothes were anywhere to be seen. All she had on was some ripped up panties. I don't remember which one of us did it but one of us called the cops while the other one stayed with the Mexican girl. The cops showed up in a few minutes and we had to direct them to the back alley because it's not easy to see from the street. Two cruisers showed up and they carefully got the girl into one of them. The cops asked Shane and I alot of questions. We gave them the best descriptions we could of the two bums and which way they headed. The whole time the Mexican girl was watching us from the back seat of the police cruiser. It was evident the girl didn't speak any English so the cops were talking to her in Spanish. As the police got ready to drive away, the girl looked at Shane and I and did her best to say "Thank you" to us in English. That kinda made me choke up a little.

Both of us had the adrenaline pumping when we sat back down at the kitchen table with the stolen library book. Neither one of us said anything for a while and we just quietly sipped our beers. Finally, Shane looked up at me and he said, "We were heroes". I guess he was right. We were.

2.24.1993

Dad keeps telling me I'll never make it on my own. He likes to inform me about all the extra bills and things people get when they have their own place. It's amusing since I've still got the room over at Joe's house, got a phone hooked up, and I've been paying my fair share of the electricity, and water. It's no big deal. I don't know why I'm still hanging around at my parents place. Dad spends alot of his time yelling at me when he sees me about how "irresponsible" I am about looking for a new job. There isn't much available job-wise right now and that isn't my fault. Bad timing is all.

Last week I moved more stuff into Joe's. I brought over my silverware, a bunch of pots and pans, and other kitchen items.

Joe is a movie fanatic. I've been watching alot of the films he likes. He will watch almost anything though and alot of it is junk. That's not to say he hasn't turned me onto some good things. We're both into sci-fi and old black and whites. One of his film suggestions was "This Island Earth" from 1954 or '55 I think. That one was amusing. I've noticed most of the movies we've checked out from the fifties always have references to things being "atomic" and there's an implied awe that goes along with it. Very goofy.

I got signed up for unemployment. They shell out $190 to me every three weeks. It ain't much but at least I get to keep the room at Joe's. I've been looking for work regularly and the one thing I've learned is there's a whole bunch of misleading advertising and complete misrepresentation going on. Temporary services and employment agencies place bogus ads in the newspapers just so they can get more people to come into the temp service. Individual businesses that are involved in questionable activities fluff up their ads to be totally different from what they actually do. For example, I answered this one ad for office work, and when I got there to check it out I discovered it was a professional scam operation selling photocopier toner over the phone. They cold call businesses and pretend to be their office supplier and ask the poor slob on the other end of the phone to "check the make and model number of the copier in their office" because they need to double check which one they have in their "computer". As soon as the unsuspecting slob tells them the make and model the scammers flip pages as fast as they can in these books to cross reference the information to the correct toner cartridge. Then they rope them into buying toner they don't need at ten times the actual price.

Another ad I checked into was for a merchandiser/marketer. Kinda vague. When I got to the place it turned out to be a commission based door to door vacuum salesman job like straight out of the 1950s. I kept thinking of that Addam's Family cartoon where vacuum salesmen are hanging from trees dead in the front yard of the Addam's house. They all still clutch onto a new vacuum and on the street below there is another vacuum salesman looking up at them from outside the gate. Anyway I can't believe that shit is for reals. I thought door to door sales jobs were only in cartoons and movies.

Employment agencies are fucked. If the person behind the desk doesn't like you, their agency isn't going to do shit for you. I haven't had any luck at all with the employment agencies so far. Guess they don't like me.

12.28.1992

I've been doing alot of reading the past two days. Joe has a nice book collection in the livingroom and I picked up his copy of "Witchcraft And Demonology" by an author named Robbins. Published in 1959. The reading has been interesting. I've been trying to imagine what it must have been like during the days of witch hunts and The Plague. The outright ignorance of the general populace of Europe in the dark ages astounds me. The part I find most interesting is how different groups of Christians delibrately misused the Bible to put thousands of innocent people to death. They used scripture from the Bible that pertained to witches but the funny thing is the Bible originally never mentions witches as such. At least not in the original Hebrew text. That's something the Europeans added in. They had a nice scam going though. Anyone who was accused of being a witch and found guilty- would have all their wealth and property divided between their accuser and the Church. Fucked up. I think if people were able to read the original translation of the Bible and had the "lost books" back in place where they should be, the Christian religion would make a whole lot more sense. I can't believe in European myths like witches and warlocks and shit. That's kindergarten stuff.

I'm getting laid off from Petrini's. I hate working there anyway so it's a good thing. I worked at the store for a couple of years. I've got to start looking for a new job tomorrow. I have to get a withdrawal card from the union. I hate the union. It wouldn't have been so bad at the union office if the women who worked behind the counter weren't a bunch of skank housewives, rude and shit. They're leeches. The union did close to nothing for us. I don't ever want to work another union job if I can help it.

Mr. Temper Tantrum had a shrewd plan for this holiday season at the store. Months ago he knew he was going to get a bunch of extra hours for manning the checkstands so he promoted up a bunch of us baggers to store clerks. He got cheap checkers that way, and he knew that right after the holiday season ended those extra hours on the payroll would be gone. He'd have no choice but to lay seven or eight of us off. That's exactly what he went and did. He let us know we were being laid off right after Christmas. Thanks, asshole.

Petrini's is like a horse with a broken leg. It needs to be shot and turned into glue. The company is doing very poorly and they've lost a ton of business. Mainly it's due to the mismanagement coming from the main office. They completely forgot what made the company successful and tried to change it to be like any other chain grocery store instead of a specialty grocery store. They didn't need to change anything all they needed to do was stick to Frank Petrini's vision. That would have been too easy though. Silly me for thinking of it.

Maybe Mr. Temper Tantrum is doing me a favor by throwing me out. At least I won't have to work with that dumb ass anymore. I swear, that guy is the worst person I've ever worked for.

10.26.1992

Last week I was going to rent an apartment without my parents knowing about it. I need someplace to sleep during the day without being fucked with. Dad has been making things pretty rough on me around the house. I need to sleep during the day because of the night shift hours and he seems to think I'm wasting my time sleeping the day away when I should be... doing something? I don't understand why he doesn't get it. If you work at night you have to sleep sometime. It's not rocket science.

Joe Evilsizer was going to let me move into one of his rooms that was up for rent last week but he changed his mind about it at the last minute. He was unclear with me as to why he didn't want me to move in after agreeing to it just a few days before. A couple of days after that he changed his mind again and gave me a bigger room for less rent and no deposit. It's all a done deal now and I spent part of the day moving things in at Joe's. The room he let me have is actually kinda cool. It's a split level setup in what used to be the attic of the house I think. It's more of an apartment within the house in a way, which I like. For now I'm going to use it as my new art studio and sleep here when dad is being a cock. I suppose the best thing about this is the fact that I can live here whenever I want to. So as soon as things get really shitty at home with dad I'll just move out of their place and live here at Joe's full time. Dad has been wanting to kick me out anyway. He won't get as much satisfaction and won't be able to hold it over me if I already have someplace to go. The rent at Joe's is $200 a month for the room. I can do that.

Joe gave me a little more of the story on why he threw Scott out of here. Sounds like the guy was pilfering stuff from other parts of the house without asking. Things were just disappearing. He was constantly drunk and had an episode where he cut himself up and bled all over the place. The thing that really surprised me was when Joe told me Scott had been running around the house with a glow in the dark butt plug up his ass. I had no idea the guy was so screwed up.

Bought another cigar today and hung out at the local cafe smoking it in the parking lot. Wasn't anything spectacular, but it wasn't bad either.

10.25.1992

I'm still on the night crew schedule at the store. Yesterday I went to sleep at three in the afternoon and woke up at ten that night, got to work by eleven. Lots of unusual stuff has been going on at the store, and some weird shit has happened to various employees outside of work.

Last Saturday afternoon I hung out with The Colonel. I consider him to be a good friend and a great co-worker. We were out bullshittin' for most of the afternoon. The Colonel mentioned earlier in the day that there was something important he wanted to talk to me about but I forgot he brought it up. Until we got back to his place, that is. When we got to his condo The Colonel proceeded to inform me that he was gay. The Colonel is always pulling pranks on us so I really didn't think even for a second he was serious. I sat across from him at his livingroom table, beer in hand and I told him "Shut up you fag". I started laughing. He repeated that he was gay. I didn't believe him and I kept up with the "Shut up you fag" routine. That was when I got a shock. The Colonel started to cry. Here I was, sitting across the table from my boss, staring at him as he wept. A horrible, dirty guilt swept over me. The guy was serious and I ridiculed him for it. I wanted to pretend like I had never been there and I never heard him say "I'm gay". I felt low. I kicked him when he was down.

I never expected to hear something like this from The Colonel. I mean, he's into guns, old big-block cars, World War II stuff, and other heavy-duty shit. He's totally straight acting. Sure, it was weird I never saw him going out on a date with a woman but I didn't think about it much. It wasn't any of my business.

Everybody at work would probably persecute The Colonel if they found out he was fruity. So I'm gonna keep my mouth shut about this. I think if the rest of the guys knew, they'd make his life miserable at the store. I guess he wanted to tell me about it because it made him feel better someone finally knew the truth about him. I told him it wouldn't change anything about our friendship or our working relationship but I don't know. This is kinda strange.

Beano's been having woman troubles. His wife has been cheating on him and they have two little kids. From the sound of things she isn't too clever about covering up her tracks. Beano was able to find her at the guy's house recently and confront them both. The homewrecker didn't take too kindly to Beano's visit and he pulled a pistol on him and started shooting. When Beano and I were leaving the store the other day he showed me a couple of bullet holes in the back of his truck. They were pretty good sized holes punched into the metal just below the rear window of his cab. He's real lucky he wasn't shot. I asked him what he is going to do about his kids safety and if he's pressing charges against his wife and the guy, but he didn't get into any details. I better not be too nosey about it.

Good old John has been having his own woman troubles as well. He's been walking around the past couple of weeks with a sweet shiner under one eye. I was meaning to ask him about it but the story already got back to me. Guess he's been having marital problems of some sort and his wife was so pissed off at him she hid in the shrubs over by where he parks his pickup truck. It's over on the bakery side of the lobby, that's where I usually park too. Anyway she was hiding up against the wall of the store in a couple of the shrubs and when John was getting into his truck she jumped out at him and hit him in the head with a beer bottle. Miller Genuine Draft I think was her choice. Looks like she clocked him good. I have no idea whether or not he deserved it but I think it's really messed up. If she's coming all the way down here to the store to do that to the guy I hate to think what must be going on at home.

And I thought I had woman problems. Sheesh.

Sunday, August 29, 2004

General Mess Cleaner



Senor 23 is a General Maintenance Clerk (GMC) at the store. He prefers to call it "General Mess Cleaner" due to all the shit that's happened in recent years in the store. Most of the messes he's been cleaning up were from me screwing around. Union grocery stores are heavily structured around job classification. The butchers are in their own separate union while the rest of us fall into a different union. The lowest job in the store is the bagger. Baggers have a senority list though and if you've worked there long enough to get to the top of the bagger list you can become a GMC. GMC is a slight step above bagger in the union because you are allowed to do things like clean the butcher department's meat cutting equipment and do some limited stocking of grocery items. It's very specific though. Baggers by contrast are not allowed to stock anything in the store at any time. That's the job of store clerks. Store clerks are classified in the union as Apprentice, Journeyman, and Master clerk. It's all based on how many hours you've worked, senority, and total years of service. Plus some other shit I think but I never go to union meetings about how all this stuff works.

Since Senor 23 has to clean the meat department he's frequently scheduled to work a few hours before the store opens in the morning so he can clean up all the butcher's equipment, pressure wash the floors behind the meat cases, and shovel flaked ice into all the display cases. If everything works out by the time the butchers start rolling in to set up the display cases with animal gore, having the GMC guy there really saves them alot of time. Senor 23 is a goofball. He knows that if he gets everything done the butchers require of him then he can just hang out for the rest of his shift somewheres and then go home.

The other morning I had to come in for a dayshift, which isn't often anymore. After I let myself in through the front double doors on the booth side of the lobby I headed back to the bathrooms by the milk box. As I pushed through the double doors leading off the sales floor I thought I heard snoring coming out of the ceiling. I wasn't really awake yet so I didn't think about it and proceeded into the bathroom to put on my apron and tie. While I was in there though I got to thinking about it and wasn't sure that was what I really heard. Upon finishing straightening my tie I walked back out into the hallway quietly and stood where I thought I heard snoring and waited. Sure enough I heard it again. Someone was up in the roof sleeping on the job.

Around the corner from the bathrooms and to the left is our break room. We have a big ladder chained up against the wall. I unhooked it and put it up against one of the big metal meat freezers and made my best attempt at stealth climbing up to the top of the meat freezer. When I got up to the top I had to crouch real low or suffer knocking my noggin against a rafter or a support beam. It was dark and really filthy. Lots of dust and dead flies everywhere. Carefully I made my way back towards where I thought the hallway and the bathrooms were. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the low light level and I had to climb over some of the roof's support beams to continue on. I got to a small walled up area just above the lower hallway and peeked around some sheetrock. There was Senor 23 kickin back on a lawn lounge he must have dragged up in there. He was comfortably sleeping in his jacket. I bet he was there for a few hours. He's my pal and I wasn't gonna fink on him for sleeping on the job. I didn't want anyone else to bust him either so I woke him up. He was confused and startled to see me there. I told him I heard him snoring and he better knock it the fuck off 'cause we were gonna open up the store shortly. Senor 23 nodded and tried to pick himself up. I did an about face and got back down out of the ceiling before anyone else showed up. I left the ladder there for him to make a quick escape. I don't know how the hell he got up there since the ladder was still chained up against the wall when I got in. Hmmmm.

Senor 23 has showed me some clever cleaning tricks. We used to have a graffiti problem in the men's bathroom. Some assholes were using permanent markers to write dumb shit on the bathroom stalls and on the walls. I guess at some point Senor 23 spent some of his time dilligently trying to find an easier way to remove the graffiti with the least possible amount of work. He's into that and I have to subscribe to the same policy. Trying to scrub dumb stuff off the walls is annoying and tiresome. He stumbled across a secret weapon in the anti-graffiti war. It's a hair spray that's been around since the 1950's called Aqua-Net. It comes in old style metal spray cans and eats shit off the walls like nobody's business. Some fool write shit with a Sharpie marker on your walls? Give it the Aqua-Net treatment. Comes off in seconds like magic. Sure makes our lives easier but you have to stop and wonder what that shit is doing to women's noggins. I mean, if it eats permanent markers and paint off of walls what must it be doing to the female brain? I'm certain it's making some women even more crazy than they already are. Nevertheless Aqua-Net is a powerful tool in our anti-graffiti arsenal.

Regular Customers


Petrini's has the most regular customers. That's what Senor 23 tells me anyway.

Mr. Temper Tantrum likes to drink coffee every morning. He gets his coffee by the booth in the front of the store like clockwork. Booth coffee is made before the store opens each morning by the ladies in the bakery. They only have three flavors plus a decaf there and Mr. Temper Tanrum only drinks one of them, apparently. To be honest I've never noticed but Senor 23 assures me Mr. Temper Tantrum likes just one. I got to thinking about it and I did notice Mr. Temper Tantrum never comes back to the produce section of the warehouse to drink our night crew coffee. Rick makes gallons of it in a big chrome restaurant coffee boiler thing every night. All the employees get their coffee from it- except for Mr. Temper Tantrum.

Coffee at the booth on the front end of the store is a complimentary perk for our early morning customers. Maybe Mr. Temper Tantrum chooses to drink that stuff instead of Rick's brew because we've poisoned it or something? Well, Senor 23 has been spiking the booth coffee that Mr. Temper Tantrum drinks each morning with flavorful, chocolate Ex-Lax. He's been heavy handed on the doses in the hopes of making Mr. Temper Tantrum get the shits. Fuckin' screwball. He knows that in the process some of our customers are gonna get dosed too, but he sees them as necessary casualties in his covert war against our top manager. I guess many of our customers are becoming very "regular" now. Not gonna improve business though. No sir. Hopefully the laxative will have a cumulative effect on our store director's rotten insides and keep him where he belongs- at home on his crapper.

I pray to Satan that Ex-Lax works as advertised. Heh heh.

9.8.1992

I had to get hold of my union representative this week as I had a major blowout with Mr. Temper Tantrum. My union rep. is a guy by the name of Bert. He's a short, round man with glasses and a goatee and he is slimy like a used car salesman. He's got a bad reputation among grocery workers in the union for doing a poor job representing them when they've filed a grievance against their employer. Bert rolls over like a dog for the companies and sells out the union workers most of the time it seems.

Last week I put in a request for a couple of days off. I asked for Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off. As long as you get your request in to the management before a weekly deadline the store managers will do their best to meet your request. Anyway on Friday the weekly schedule came out and Larry (who wrote the schedule) gave me my requested days off. Cool. He had to put me down as being off Sunday on both this week and last week's schedule since our work weeks always start on Sundays. Well, Mr. Temper Tantrum apparently decided to re-write next week's schedule for some inane reason and he didn't bother to look at the schedule Larry had already wrote up. So while I was off for three days having a good time Mr. Temper Tantrum schduled me to work Sunday and I was already gone on my trip.

When I got back home my parents told me that work called all afternoon on Sunday trying to find out where I was. I was angry and called down to the store and got hold of The Colonel. Colonel said someone had scheduled me to work three in the afternoon that day until nine at night. Closing shift. Dustin stayed longer to cover the shift and because he thought I blew the store off he was an asshole about staying. He gave a message to The Colonel for me, "Tell him to fuck off". I mentioned to The Colonel that if Dustin doesn't cool it next time I see him he's gonna get punched. I haven't seen Dustin yet since this all happened but if he acts up I'm gonna choke the shit out of him. For reals.

Dad of course decided to start a fight over this because I'm a bum. He took it upon himself to call around to all my friends houses trying to find me that afternoon and insisted on telling everyone that I had delibrately "missed" a shift at my job. That really pissed me off. It's nobody's business what happens at my work. Dad didn't have any right to tell anyone what was going on even if he does "Pay the bills around here". I should have known better than to leave my phone book laying around in the house. Dad loves to meddle in my business whenever he gets the opportunity. I've taken some precautions to make sure he doesn't speak to any relatives of girl(s) I'm seeing now. The guy will do whatever he can to fuck things up for me.

Getting back to Mr. Temper Tantrum, I was scheduled to work a weird night crew shift from four in the morning until opening at eight. I woke up early and made it to the store by three. I wanted to find a copy of Larry's schedule that did in fact have me scheduled for Sunday off. I went up into the manager's office on the second floor at the back of the store. Twenty minutes of heavy rummaging turned up Larry's schedule tacked to the wall behind the book keeper's desk. I snagged it. It felt good to have that copy in my hand as well as Mr. Temper Tantrum's jacked up schedule. Now I had concrete evidence of Mr. Temper Tantrum's incompetence. He fucked up, not me.

Mr. Temper Tantrum showed up at the store around seven. He walked by me a few times on the sales floor and said hello to me. It was like he didn't even remember the Sunday schedule incident. I delibrately ignored him when he tried to talk to me three times. Finally he said to me "You're awful quiet today". I replied "I'm kinda angry with you Mr. Temper Tantrum". "Why"? He asked. I glared at him and said "Because we apparently had a little incident over the weekend in regard to my schedule and some days off I requested. Larry gave me Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off. You scheduled me to work Sunday and I missed the shift." As the words were escaping my lips he turned that bright red color and blew up like a volcano. He yelled in my face "If you want to be pissed off at me I'll give you plenty of reasons to be pissed off"! Then he stormed away before I could get another word in edgewise. I went back to stocking the shelf in front of me and then Mr. Temper Tantrum reappeared as if he used the teleporter in Star Trek. He was holding a copy of his rewritten schedule and told me he could not honor any of the days off I had requested. He gave me no reason. It's funny because I rarely ask for days off, I've been working here at Petrini's for a few years and I've only requested a few days off with weeks of advance notice for the managers. I've been reasonable in asking for days off.

I told the union representative Bert everything that happened and gave him both copies of that week's schedule as well as a dated photocopy of my original day off request. Bert wasn't too pleased with the situation and he assured me he will investigate what happened and talk to Mr. Temper Tantrum. I just hope Bert doesn't flake on me like he's done to a bunch of other people around here. So far I haven't been written up or reprimanded for missing that Sunday shift. I would have expected that to happen by now and it's almost an admission of guilt on Mr. Temper Tantrum's part that it hasn't happened yet. I don't trust Bert much so we'll see where this goes.

I'm off for the next couple of days so I'm gonna go buy myself a good cigar and spend some time looking for another job. Petrini's is bullshit. A bunch of our guys are looking into a lawyer so they can collectively sue Mr. Temper Tantrum for harrassment. The guy really is that much of a problem. I think our employees should sue both the store director personally as well as our main office since they are both liable for creating the shitty work environment we have at the store now. I hate the people at the main office anyway. They are systematically destroying our stores with their shoddy business decisions. Petrini's will be bankrupt before I know it. It would be wise to jump ship before SS Petrini's heads to the bottom. She's sinking fast!

8.20.1992

If it weren't for bad luck I wouldn't have no luck at all. This morning is a perfect example of my bad luck. I'm completely out of gas and I was counting on my paycheck being here at the store in the morning so I could get some gas and go home. Something happened to the courier and they won't be here until after eleven. Probably later. So I'm sitting here in my car in the parking lot of the store until my paycheck shows up. I was just hanging out here staring off into the parking lot listening to lousy morning DJ's on AM radio when I remembered this journal was in the car. Now at least I can try to pass some of the time faster by doing something constructive.

Right now I'm a little fatigued since I got to work a little before midnight and I've been up the whole time. I was hoping to go home and get to sleep. Jonesy offered to loan me five bucks so I could get out of here but I decided to pass on it.

Night crew is something I've really wanted to do for a long time. No customers or managers. That's good shit. I work so much more effectively without either of those hindrances around. Jonesy has a great way of planning out the shift each night and he's started teaching me how to use hand held portable scanners to place the order for the next evening's shift. It's all fairly cut and dry. Jonesy seems to be a good enough guy to me, hardworking, but definetly a little off center. He has fifteen cars and most of them are dead. He's got them in storage on people's private property scattered across half the state. He isn't real sure how many of them he actually has left due to some of his friends' divorces. Jonesy hasn't checked on some of his cars whereabouts in many years. He's currently got a collection of three 1978 Ford Thunderbirds with T-tops. '78 T-birds have got to be some of the most disgusting and hideous looking cars ever manufactured by Ford. Just another unfortunate by-product of the worst decade this century- the Seventies. Most everything that came out of the Seventies was worthless. I've seen two of Jonesy's T-birds so far. One is a vile light lime green that was once mettalic. It looks like someone puked and made a paint color out of it and it's totally oxidized. The other one is a rust color. Really ugly.

Female trouble. Have I got a bad case of that going on right now. I decided to call it a day with Jacinda recently. I had alot of regret about it. Now that I am going to be making a bunch more loot at the store I went back over to Jacinda's apartment to talk to her again, apologize, and make some plans for getting a place together. If we lived together I'd have a much better idea what she's up to and I could help her out in a big way. I got over to her place early in the morning after getting off the night shift and knocked on her door. Nobody answered so I waited around for a few minutes to listen and see if maybe she was hiding from me. Like she was afraid of me or something. Nothing stirred in there. I assumed she must have been at some other guy's place overnight or maybe got up early for some reason and already left. Either way while I was there thinking about it I decided it might be better to just leave her alone. It would have been good to apologize to Jacinda though. Oh well. I don't think I will go back again. I'm too mixed up and confused. Jacinda was alot of fun and a decent girlfriend. Too bad about all the weirdness that came along with the relationship.

8.17.1992

Mr. Temper Tantrum gave me a promotion of sorts last week and I started my first night crew shift two days ago. It's almost full time and the best part is I don't have to work with customers anymore. No more checking, well hardly any checking anymore. My first shift on night crew was from midnight until eight in the morning. During my first shift I only took two fifteen minute breaks and no lunch. I put up 240 cases of "freight", as Jonesy likes to call it. Jonesy is the guy showing me the ropes. The whole night we talked about his cars, most of which sound to me like they don't run anymore. He likes to wear a store smock that must have been the company's uniform twenty years ago. It's a light yellow color and reminds me of a doctor's lab coat. We all have to wear light grey aprons and I've never seen this yellow one before now.

Jonesy carries a notepad in the pocket of his labcoat and refers to it whenever we talk about a specific car part he likes alot. He can't stop yapping at me about Ford 400 engines. Some of the pages of his well worn notepad have ads from the used auto section in the newspaper. They've been meticulously cut out of the paper and carefully taped onto the pages of his notepad. I guess there's something significant to him about the ads but I haven't been able to understand why yet. We've been working together throwing cases of freight up on an aisle and he will begin talking about some random car model or auto part without any prompting from me. It's odd but harmless enough. I'm going to have to find some other stuff to talk about with him though because this is going to get old fast.

His method for getting the freight up on the shelves works well enough. The load comes off the truck shortly after midnight and they bring the pallets out onto the sales floor at the back of the store. Each pallet is full of products that are mixed up so we have to break them down by aisle location and reorganize them. Once that's done we work in teams of two opening up the cases and getting them up onto the shelves. Jonesy and the other night crew veterans are amazingly fast at opening up everything with their boxcutters. Must have come with alot of years of practice. If the freight we're throwing happens to be food items with a sell-by date on them we have to rotate the existing stock on the shelves to the front and put the new stuff in behind it. Rotating all the soup cans is tedious work.

The main advantage of working night crew is not having to deal with customers anymore. We close the store each night at ten and we don't open up again until eight in the morning. Without having customers in our hair all night long we can really make the store look good and spend the majority of our time on stocking items. I don't know how the 24 hour store chains can pull it off having drunks and freaks show up at all hours of the night interrupting their work. Seems like a really bad way to operate to me. Not to mention that's the best time for people to come into your store and shoplift. We don't have to worry about any of that junk. It's just us versus the freight, and the freight is always gonna lose.

8.12.1992

I'm looking into getting a better job with another grocery store chain. Middle of November one of their stores will be re-opening and they are going to need a bunch more people. I don't relish the thought of working for this company because I think their style is like the McDonald's of supermarkets. And I hate the "country" styled uniforms they wear. But it would be full time 40 hour work weeks. The best I am guaranteed at Petrini's is part time. Just can't ever get ahead that way. At least here at Petrini's all I have to wear is their apron with the trademark logo on it and a white shirt with black tie. I can wear whatever pants or shoes I want so they are accomodating that way. It's much better than having to wear a western style shirt that looks like it could be a tablecloth for a picnic table.

Friday, August 27, 2004

Shaving

Mr. Temper Tantrum requires all of us guys at the store to shave our mugs every god damned day before we start our shift. He's a total psycho about it. I don't think we need to be clean-shaven every day just to sell a bag of groceries. For myself and Senor 23 it's a nuisance. I get serious razor burn no matter how I shave my neck. At the absolute most I shave twice a week and I just hope Mr. Temper Tantrum doesn't notice. Anything more than shaving twice a week and I get tore down. My skin just can't handle it. Senor 23 hates it too. The other day Mr. Temper Tantrum spotted Senor 23 on the sales floor unshaved. It was no big deal really. He didn't have quarter inch long whiskers or anything. He had some stubble but he didn't look like a bum. Mr. Temper Tantrum came unglued and started shrieking at Senor 23 right in front of customers. He yelled, "I thought I told you to shave"! At that point he grabbed Senor 23 by the shirt collar and dragged him down the hygeine aisle. He lunged at a pack of BIC disposable razors and a small can of shaving cream and put them in one hand. Then the freak grabbed Senor 23's shirt collar with the other hand and continued dragging him through the store. I had to see what was going to happen so I hung back a bit but followed.

They burst through the double swinging doors back by the milk box and Senor 23 was dragged into the men's bathroom. Apparently Mr. Temper Tantrum threw both the package of razors and the can of shaving cream into the sink and shouted into Senor 23's ears that he could not come out of the restroom until he shaved his face. Mr. Temper Tantrum stormed out of the bathroom with such rage that he nearly broke the door off it's hinges in the process. He was his usual bright red arteries-bulging-from-his-neck-psychopathic self when he walked back out onto the sales floor.

Senor 23 has the impressive ability to rarely ever get angry. He can really keep his cool. He's also a crafty mother fucker with serious balls when required. He decided to shave one half of his face and neck. That's it. The other side he left the stubble. Did a fair job of keeping the line straight all the way down too. When he came back out onto the floor everyone was looking at him like he was a retard but he just went right back to work like nothing had happened. For the rest of his shift every time Mr. Temper Tantrum was around, he just kept the shaved side of his face towards him. It was so damned funny. The idiot didn't catch on even once for the rest of the day and he never saw his half shaved mug. I swear our store director is the world's biggest moron. He's also the worst boss I've ever had.

8.10.1992

Last night I tried to break things off with Jacinda. I have a really bad feeling about what's going on at her place and why she's lost a couple of her part time jobs. There's no way for me to know for sure if I'm just being paranoid or if she's up to some sort of mischief. I really would like to figure it out but something is telling me I should get out now before things become even more messed up. The sad thing is I really do care about her.

My breakup attempt didn't go very well. I wanted to leave things alone for a few days to let the dust settle and I had hoped it would make things easier for both of us. As usual, I was wrong. Jacinda is really impatient. I spent a couple of hours talking to her and I felt like I got nowhere. The only thing I feel good about is that I was honest with her. Jacinda became overdramatic and threatened to kill herself if I left her. I don't think she would actually do anything like that. Regardless I felt like a damn fool when she said it. How was I supposed to react? What could I say? I felt like a real sack of crap.

I'd stay with Jacinda for the long term if I knew for certain she wasn't still fooling around with her ex or doing some drugs. Like I said I have a bad feeling about what she's up to. I don't have any real proof of wrongdoing on her part but it's all so suspicious. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm reading too much into things and I'm just being a freak. Still I have a gut feeling things are about to go real bad on me if I stay with her much longer. What to do? I'm very confused.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Jacinda


Jacinda is in a bad way these days. It's weird. When I first met her she was working multiple jobs and seemed like she had it together. She seemed to be doing well in school too. I still don't like the fact that she is room mates with her ex-boyfriend, but the rent is cheap where she's at and I haven't been able to afford to move her in with me someplace. It's been a real drag. She's lost some of the part time jobs she had and I can't figure out why. Drugs? Weirdness? Definetly a mystery. I've tried to do whatever I can to make things a little easier for her- and that isn't much. I'm cash strapped too.

One of the things about her that has been a totally new experience is having sex in public. She loves it. We've been intimate in city parks, the beach, behind a Jehovah's Witnesses church (cult fiends), and even in the local cemetary in broad daylight. The cemetary incident was the most exhilerating, and sketchy. We walked into the cemetary one afternoon and went behind a concrete crypt. I bent her over a gravestone and did her from behind. Just a few feet away on the trail were joggers and people walking by. Nobody noticed us. Off in the distance some hippie was playing classical guitar over someone's grave. It was risky, and fun. I started to panic though and ganked Jacinda before she was about to climax. I wanted to get out of there and go back to her place to finish her off. She was frustrated and angry about it because she was so close to orgasm. Oops. I did have a good time terrorizing her though. Jacinda tried to reach for a headstone that was just a few inches in front of her while I was in her, and each time she got close enough to touch it I pulled her back another inch so she couldn't get hold of it. That really made her squirmy. Too bad there were so many people around.

We have a good time going to antique stores together. Jacinda is into alot of the same stuff I am. She seems to really dig World War Two era stuff. I bought her a navy coat with gold buttons that was sort of a double-breasted cut and she looked really cute in it. That same day I bought it for her she picked me up a zippo lighter from one of Matson Lines passenger ships that was around back in the 1940s. That was cool of her. We've had some really good times recently. I'm obsessed with her body. I love her voice. She has gorgeous legs. Her red hair makes me crazy. I do love the red heads. Yessir.

If I could only figure out a way to get her into a place with me things would be much better. It's next to impossible right now. Fuck.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

8.9.1992


I have been writing "23" all over the store. I put 23 on the walls, toilet seats, door jams, everywhere. No one in the store can miss it. I put up so many of them that other employees have started writing 23 around the store too like it's the new inside joke. Senor 23 was the first person that put them up after I started it, hence his nickname. He was pretty ingenious where he placed them though. He would put them in places where you'd have to look really hard to find them, or you would have to be an employee to see them. For example only the baggers have the keys to the paper towel dispensers in the bathrooms. Senor 23 would write 23 with a big black Sharpie marker on the inside of the towel dispenser lids. He's put them inside the soap dispensers and inside the top tanks of our toilets. 23 is behind clipboards on the wall. It's been going on for so long now that I can't remember exactly when it started. Customers have even noticed all the 23's and have been asking about it. And for most of the employees 23 is becoming a big controversy. Who's behind it? What does it mean? Nobody knows.

Since I'm a store checker now I can't devote as much of my time to fucking shit up at work. As a bagger or GMC clerk the management never really knows where you could be or what you are doing in the store at any given time. Checkers are stuck for the majority of their shift in one spot and one spot only. The only good thing so far about being a checker is I don't have to be constantly looking for something to do. If it gets busy, your shift flies by in the checkstand. I miss all the screwing around though.

I've been doing ok with the checking stuff. Tonight was my worst night yet. I was $4 off balancing my till. Most of the time I'm within fifty cents of where it should be. That's no big deal. My average items per minute is ok but it still needs some work. We are supposed to maintain an average of 26 items per minute while checking. Yesterday I was 28.1 items per minute and today I was 25.7 items per minute. Not too bad, but I still don't really like the idea of being a grocery worker. For the time being I have no choice. Actually I'm pretty lucky to have a job right now. There's still loads of people out of work. As soon as I can I'd like to get out of retail sales. For good. Especially grocery stores.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

8.8.1992 Part Two

Grocery workers are for the most part a down and out group of people. They fall into three catagories: The High School Student, might be their first job, The College Student, working full time or a heavy part time schedule so they can get through school, and the Career Grocery Worker. The Career Grocery Worker is where you don't want to be. These are people that got locked into their job at some point in their lives because the benefits and the pay are decent enough even though the work is mundanely idiotic. The Career Grocery Worker can't leave to start a different line of work since they would most likely take a serious pay cut and have to start back at the bottom. Well, they could leave to start another career but it's damn rare that it works out. They usually don't have anything else to fall back on and never did. So, year after year they stay at a store racking up hours in the union so they can get their next pay increase or a few more days of vacation the following year. There's some great people and personalities here to be sure. Many have been locked into their jobs for decades. But the down and out goofball slash crackpot Career Grocery workers are by far the majority in any store. They can make things interesting, or extremely hellish and surreal. All depends on your point of view.

John is one of the good Career Grocery workers here. He's a tower of a man with a friendly personality and a silly sense of humor. John is a hard worker. He's our frozen food clerk and when he's not stuck up in the checkstands he's in the freezer box or he's stocking the frozen food aisles. I remember when I first started working at the store I had to bag for John. When you first start out as a bagger you have to spend a little time getting to know each checker and get used to their little quirks and differences. They all seem to do things slightly different from each other and you're in their space. John was easy enough to get along with in the checkstand. The first day I was bagging for John we had a customer that bought some leeks. A leek is just a giant sized green onion. The customer wanted paper bags and John waited until I put the leeks into a bag. He stopped everything and leaned over to me and said, "There's a leek in that bag". Then he just stared at me for a few seconds. I assume he was trying to make a joke that the bag had a hole in it and he was waiting with anticipation to see if I was going to empty the bag out and look for a hole, cause I must be a imbecile. Oh there's a leak in the bag, ha ha. I just stared back at him. Doofus.

Casey is a little five-foot nothing blonde that thinks she's something. She looks ok but she's kinda weird. She loves the attention she gets from male customers in her checkstand and the rumor is a bunch of our guys have nailed her. She kinda gives me the creeps. When she's checking she always wears white rubber gloves because she is a germ freak. She's afraid that by handling people's grocery items and their money all day that she will get sick. So she wears these gloves to the point of them turning dark brown and even black. It's filthy. We've had a bunch of customer complaints about it since they don't like having their produce handled by a woman with filthy gloves on. Nothing has been done about it so for now she wears the gloves. Casey has also had surgery on both her wrists for carpal tunnel syndrome. I guess that's where you blow your wrists out from repetative motion and from what I hear it's painful. She was out of work for months after the surgery and she has a funky way of running items over the laser scanner so she doesn't re-injure her wrists.

Margaret is a down and out Career Grocery worker if I ever saw one. I think she's had a particularly bad life. She is on the low end of the management food chain here. She gets to run the front end (checkstands) and close the store alot, but that's about as far as her managerial duties go. Most of the time she's just a glorified checker. She has jet black hair that's long and curly. Her upper lip is covered with black stubble. It's a faint moustache that I wish she'd shave off but she never does. Lookin' really rough. Margaret is a stickler for store policy and she's always trying to bust me and a few of the other guys for stupid shit. She suspects me of contributing to store mayhem but she's never been able to catch me doing anything out of the ordinary. This frustrates her. There's also something else about her personality that I can't quite put my finger on, but it's weird. Subtle mental illness perhaps? I dunno. She's off-center for sure though, and been in her job for far too many years. She has a young son that keeps getting into trouble with the law and her man split the scene a long time ago.

Beano is a real screwball. He's been employed here for a while and when I was bagging for him I was laughing almost all of the time. A ruthless mother fucker to customers. He will ask them how they are doing today and while they're making small talk he will lean over his shoulder and mutter shit like "Shuddap you ugly bitch". He does it through his whole shift and never gets caught. When he's not in the checkstand his main job is Point Of Sales. He's got to maintain the UPC code database and change price tags on all the items in the store when they go on and off sale. It's a real chore. Beano also seems to have a particularly rugged time outside of work and I feel kinda sad for him. We call him Beano because whatever his wife must be feeding him each night makes him stink like an open sewer line the following day. He enjoys sneaking up on you and stealth-farting next to you as he slips back down the aisle undetected. He will wait around the corner until he hears people running to get away from the stink. He digs bombing us.

Mark has been here through high school and he grew up in my neighborhood. He's the guy I've been having most of my grocery wars with. We get along all right but we're always fucking with each other. He's a tall skinny blonde haired dude that looks like he should be out beating up 99 pound weaklings at the beach. He's obnoxious.

Mean Gene is a screwup. His pop is the receiving clerk in the back room and I think that had everything to do with Mene Gene getting a job here. I tolerate the guy but I think he's real dumb. He's weird lookin' too. A Tall guy, with reddish blonde hair loosely curled. I think he has a slight gap in between his two front teeth.

Ray, Larry, and Jerry are our other managers and checkers. They are all decent enough guys. Larry is probably is goofiest of the three. Jerry is real laid back and Ray brews his own beer. Sometimes Ray is real cool to me and other times he's kind of a Jackass. For the most part I like him. Mr. Temper Tantrum is the new store director here and he's been systematically making a bad work environment into a much worse one.

Rad Rob works in the dairy department and checks alot in the early part of the day. Since his main job is stocking the dairy departmant and loitering around in the milk box he works early shifts before the store opens. After we're open for business and customers start grabbing stuff from the milk shelves Rad Rob will mess with them a bit. He likes to freak out kids. He'll moo at them as they grab a half gallon of milk from his shelf. A couple times I think he's held onto whatever they were trying to grab so they can't move it. For the rest of us he just yells insults and obscenities as we walk by and he sees us through a hole in his half gallons. I get "Pants Shitter" and "Dog Licker" yelled at me alot from the milk box as I walk by on the sales floor.

Tundra Wubbaduh is one of the female checkers here I despise the most. She's horrendously overweight and can barely fit into her checkstand. Real dumb too. Tundra Wubbaduh speaks with a high pitched sickneningly sweet voice and treats everyone like they are a child. I hate her. She spends most of her breaks reading shoddy romance novels and consequently doesn't know anything. Did I mention I hate her? She's also a very slow checker. Put a snail on quaaludes and you have her approximate working speed.

The Colonel is our customer's popular choice for checker. He's always busy, super fast and extra friendly. He's been working in the grocery business since high school and he's actually good at it. The local rotary club has awarded him business accolades a few times and he knows most of our regular customers by name. They genuinely like him. He's also a good boss to work for. Always fair, always gets the job done. The Colonel is fairly short and super scrawny. He's got a high energy level and he never seems to stop working. If he's not in the checkstand yapping it up with a customer he's tearing off into the backroom to find something for someone or he's stocking shelves. He's a good guy. Usually packin' heat too. He carries a pistol in his case so on nights when I have to close the store up with him I like knowing someone has some firepower around. It's a good thing. Not that we've ever had a problem, but...

Tony is our liquor department guy and he's usually out in the wine aisle if he isn't stranded up in the checkstands. He seems cool enough but I don't know him well.

Dang is the receiving clerk. He's got a slight southern drawl when he speaks, and he speaks slowly. He's been in the grocery business since back in the 1950s I think. The fifties must have been a golden period for Dang. His hair is pulled back in a greaser pompadour. He isn't well liked by many people here because he's so fucking lazy. Dang is the brunt of alot of practical jokes some of which are borderline mean. There's nothing anybody can do about him though because he's been in the union for so long the only way he could get thrown out of here is if he gets caught stealing. And that ain't gonna happen. Dang is content to do the bare minimum his job requires and periodically take gobs of vacation off from work whenever it suits him.

Dustin has been a checker for some time now and he's insane. Every customer gets asked the same question as soon as they walk into your checkstand, "Would you like paper or plastic bags today, ma'am"? Most of our customers are women and the vast majority of them have been shopping here for many years. So they've been relentlessly programmed to hear this question asked by us in the same general tone of voice each time they come in. It seems Dustin snapped one day and he changed the paper or plastic bags question to "Chop twist burn today, ma'am"? This is some sort of a stoner reference to rolling a joint, I think. Anyway the women always say "Paper" in response, or sometimes "Plastic" just like normal. It's amazing- and hilarious. Occasionally Dustin changes the question to "Your tits look fantastic today ma'am" and they look at us with their beady dingbat eyes and say "Paper please" as if nothing happened. When he does this to an unsuspecting lady I'm laughing so hard I'm on the verge of tears. He's only had a handful of women who *think* they heard something about their tits and glare at him but Dustin is quick on his feet. He will instantly ask them about the weather and then they tell us what kind of bags they want and continue on with the conversation. It's awesome.

Monday, August 23, 2004

8.8.1992

I got my new job at the store. Mr. Temper Tantrum is promoting a few of us baggers up to store clerks. We will be checkers and night crew clerks now. I had to go through a few days of training with this dingbat blonde named Sherry, from the main office. The training sessions were boring and tedious. Worthless really. I've had the misfortune of having to endure training from Sherry before. The first time I met her was after I had been working at Petrini's for six months. Petrini's was putting on a bagger school at one of the other stores. Even though I was a veteran bagger by then, The Colonel decided to send me to bagger school for a week. Each store had to send one person and I guess I was the unlucky guy that got elected to go. Sherry was the worst instructor for grocery stuff. Total nitwit. Anyway she made that week hellish and I knew as soon as I saw her for checker school it was going to be a rough time.

Sherry is very loud. She is condescending at every opportunity and repulsive to look at. I was stuck with her for eight hours a day for most of the week. The first day she showed up wearing a purple business suit with a tacky leaf design on it. She wore obnoxious gold plated costume jewelry and her hair was all Jeri-curled out. It looked like a blonde dust mop. Her belt was on so tight that she bulged around her waistline like a giant purple stuffed sausage. I hate her voice. That annoys me more than anything else. The training days passed by far too slowly. I did my best to block the evil Sherry from my mind while still getting through the silly training excercises she set up for us. Probably the only difficult part was having to memorize hundreds of produce codes by the end of the week. Everything else was easy enough.

We got Mr. Temper Tantrum a while back from another store. He's our new store director, and the guy is a straight up freak. He's a short man with a bushy moustache and coke bottle thick glasses. Super nerd. He wears his shirt and tie far too tight around his neck. He loses his temper at the slightest things and he turns fire-engine red. When this happens his veins and arteries bulge out around his neck and he runs a finger nervously around his shirt collar. His finger is like a hook he uses to try and relieve some of the pressure on his neck when he flips out. We've been making alot of fun about it when he isn't looking. He should just wear his tie somewhat loose but he's too stupid to figure that one out. Our previous store director was an OK enough guy but due to his shoulder injury I don't think he will ever be back. Mr. Temper Tantrum was a store manager at one of our other locations and he got into a bunch of shit. I've heard two stories about him so far. One story is that he went berzerk on some bagger at his store and choked him by the neck. The other story is essentially the same thing but instead of choking the bagger he bitch slapped the guy. Either way Mr. Temper Tantrum shouldn't be shuffled off to another store. In my opinion he should have been fired for conducting himself like that.

8.1.1992

A lot of things have come and gone. I moved out of the house that Demi and I were sharing. Demi turned out to be totally unreliable and untrustworthy. The dirtbag ran a $400 phone bill up on me. He was calling phone sex party lines or some shit since he can't get any action. I was having a hard enough time financially trying to get by and then this sack of crap goes and burns me on the phone bill, which is in my name. Great. I was so god damned angry I went through the house and smashed up all the phone jacks and ripped some of the phone lines out of the walls. Hope that screws him good since he's still gonna be living there for a while. That greasy bastard tried to ransom some of my antiques that I had stored in the garage. He put a lock on the garage door on the second day of my move out. I couldn't get everything in one truckload so he took the opportunity to cut my lock off the garage door and demand I give him close to $300 for the next month's rent even though I ain't gonna be there. Things got pretty ugly and we had some words. Needless to say he removed the lock and I got the rest of my shit out of there.

Since I had no place else to go on short notice I moved back into my parent's place. Dad was a complete asshole about it. They have a huge house and they aren't doing a damn thing with my old room since I bailed out, but dad took every opportunity to fuck with me and break a bunch of my stuff delibrately when I moved back in. I had a really nice whiskey tumbler collection and he threw the box down on the concrete garage floor at their house just to shatter them all. He busted a bunch of other stuff too but the whiskey tumblers I can't replace. Those were all promo tumblers from liquor companies so it's not like I can just walk into a store and pick up new ones. There's no reason for him to do that kind of shit. He loves it though. I can tell. We've had some real violent encounters since then and mom has threatened dad with divorce. Hope she follows through with it this time.

Looks like I'm up for a promotion at Petrini's. Not sure what's going on with that yet but I sure could use the extra dough. I got to get outta here.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

5.19.1992

The usual things went on at work today. Employees called in sick, many customers left the store disappointed and angry. My ten minute breaks turned into half an hour lounge sessions. The first four hours went by real slow and my lunch went by way too fast. I was busy grinding through the last four hours. One of the checkers, Dustin, got kinda uppity today. He kept throwing red potatoes and rolls of lifesavers at me. I don't know why he decided to throw down the gauntlet. It was fucked up though because he was throwing shit at me out on the sales floor. Customers were around. He didn't hit me a single time, which was good. I pelted him with a clove of garlic and a rotten apricot back by the milk box. He picked up the garlic and I tried to get away by running as fast as I could down the soda aisle.

Dustin threw the garlic as hard as he could and as I was coming up on a shopper just to my left the garlic clove rushed past me and hit the woman square in the back between her shoulder blades. It made her yell kinda loud. In the split seconds after it hit her I turned to face the soda case like I was looking for a price check and the garlic clove dropped to the floor and rolled underneath the aisle. She spun around and I glanced at her and asked if she was ok. I was a good ten feet from where she was so there was no way I could have layed a finger on her. No one else was around and she didn't see anything on the floor. She trembled a little bit and then turned around and walked away without saying a word to me. I thought for sure she would complain to a manager about it but she didn't. Whew.

Demi is turning out to be a real shitty room mate. I should have known after he got thrown out of Joe's place. What was I thinking? Demi is totally lazy. He doesn't do the dishes, seldom if ever takes out the garbage, nor does he take part in any aspect of cleaning the house.

5.18.1992

When I came home from work today I needed a shower pretty bad. I was covered in tomato and pineapple juice. Mark started it. I was in the back rooms doing some markdowns on discontinued items when Mark came through and stabbed a can of soda with his boxcutter. He shook it up and threw it at me. They like to call them "grocery grenades". He didn't hit me with it but it really made me angry, especially since I hadn't gone out of my way to provoke him today. I cooled down and forgot about it but later on in the shift Mark began throwing a bunch of cherry tomatoes at me and messed me all up. I was up in the second layer of our pallet racks so I couldn't really hide or get away from him. I grabbed a full bottle of beer (it was the only thing available) and threw it as hard as I could at his feet. It was a good choice to hurl at him since I knew he wasn't going to be expecting that sort of retaliation while I suffered through his cherry tomato barrage. The beer bottle smacked the concrete just in front of his shoes and exploded. That got his attention.

Later on Mark was stuck in his checkstand. I spit a mouthful of ice water down his back while he was ringing some lady out. He couldn't do anything about it except take it and carry on. Then I came back with a paper cup full of dirty mop water and threw it on him. He smelled like fresh garbage. Mark got pretty angry and made a big deal out of it by asking The Colonel for a new apron to wear. Big sissy. Mark can dish it out but he can't take it. This all started between Mark and I months ago when I was bagging some orders and I kept getting hit in the back of the head with golf tees. I couldn't figure out where the fuck they were coming from. Every time I got hit with one and I turned around everybody was busily working away. I caught Mark out of the corner of my eye throwing them at me and it's been on ever since.

5.17.1992


I just got home. I've been out of the house since shortly before nine this morning. Right now it's past midnight. My shift at Petrini's was from 9:30 to 2:30pm. I attempted to get up extra early this morning so when I got to the store I could wake up with a cup of coffee in my hand before going through my usual ritual of putting on my apron in the men's bathroom and straightening my tie in the mirror over our grungy bathroom sink. I was thwarted in getting to work early by the parade. I didn't realize it was today and they blocked off most of my neighboorhood. I had a frustraing time trying to find a way out and it took me a good fifteen minutes. I tried driving out by Jacinda's apartment (she lives a few blocks away from my house in the same neighborhood) but that was all barracaded off. Really annoying.

So I didn't get to work early enough and I rushed through my usual routine. Apron and tie on in the bathroom, then hot foot it up to the booth on the front end of the store to sign my timecard and check the day's bagger lineup to see which worthless baggers I have to work with. Browsed the spot-mop sheet to see if I can sign in for one right away and avoid being up on the checkstands for a while. It sucks having to bag groceries all day for obnoxious housewives and the elderly nuisances we always get from the nearby retirement community. Those old folks enjoy terrorizing us with unreasonable demands, I think. What I really hate is when they call me "boy" instead of mister or something. I get hit up alot by them on the aisles because I'm so tall. They always demand I get a can or a box of something off the top shelves for them. I wouldn't mind so much if even one of them would be polite about it once in a while. Sheesh. They also seem to take great pleasure in asking us to locate items we've never carried. I got an old lady the other day who demanded I produce a jar of pickled pineapples. Never heard of such a thing and I've been working here for a couple of years now. I told her we didn't carry anything like that but she got more and more uptight about it. Started yelling at me actually, and said she's bought it here a bunch of times in the past three years. She must have confused us with another chain store I think. I dumped her on a manager and let him sort her out. It was wasting my time.

I crushed a couple of wooden pallets in the trash compactor behind the store. It was fun. The nails in the pallets groan really loud as the compactor mashes them up. It makes me smile. Senor 23 likes to crush our metal shopping carts. That's pretty funny too. I've watched him do that once. Laughed my ass off. There's all sorts of mayhem to be had with a good trash compactor. Actually there's all sorts of trouble to get into behind the store. Rad Rob showed me a pretty good trick the other afternoon. He grabbed a two liter soda off the shelf and had me follow him outside the store. Nobody was around so he shook the bottle up for a minute and then threw it up in the air as high as he could. He tossed it up a couple of times and nothing interesting happened so I asked him what he was trying to do. Rad Rob said if you can get the bottle to land right on the screw cap it will bust off and the bottle will shoot up in the air like a rocket. I chuckled. After a few more tries he got it right and sure enough the two liter took off like a missle and flew up over the roof of our building. We won't be getting that one back anytime soon. Hehe.

I made an interesting discovery in the warehouse the other day. Somebody busted a bag of BBQ charcoal and left the bag open in the back room. It was slow and no one was there so I started throwing coals at the other end of the warehouse where all our pallets of canned soda are at. Weirdest thing happened. If I hit a can with a piece of charcoal the can would explode violently and shoot the charcoal all the way across the back room to me. It's a long distance. I told a couple of the guys about it and they've been trying it too. It's hilarious to watch. The cans look like Alien because they burst outward and the aluminum rips up. Oh and there's a soda spurt about six feet long on the floor. One of the store managers noticed a number of cans have been burst out in the past couple of days, but he can't figure out how the hell it's happening. Hope nobody finks on us.

5.10.1992

I moved out of my parent's house two months ago. I got lucky and moved into a duplex with Demi. I've been waiting for a long time to move out of my folk's house because I wanted to make sure I had a living situation where I would only have one room mate instead of four or five of them. I want alot of space to spread out without tripping over room mates. Most of my friends have ended up renting places that are really small and have tons of room mates. That isn't the way I want to live, if I can help it. This place is pretty quiet and very clean. There's enough room so I was able to put most of my furniture in my bedroom. My bedroom at my parent's house was huge and I had alot of furniture in it. I figured for my first time moving out I would have to put a bunch of my stuff in storage but this place has worked out well enough. We have a one car garage out back and I did put a few things in there and lock it up.

I miss living at my parent's house alot, but I don't miss my parents. Right now they are painting the outside of their house white. For twenty years it's been a deep charcoal grey color and Dad thinks by repainting it white it will somehow keep the house alot cooler during the summer months. Guess he thinks the white will reflect sunlight and stay much cooler. I think he's whacked. Anyway, when I go over there now and I see that white paintjob it doesn't feel like home anymore. It's like the house is someone else's and I've never been there before. It's a strange feeling. Dad offered to pay me to help repaint the place but I felt really uncomfortable taking the cash from him. With him, strings are always attatched and he makes you feel like you are a bum taking a handout. I felt uncomfortable taking the money but I do need the dough. So I've been helping out with the repainting.

Things with Jacinda took off well. We've been seeing each other for a while. When we're out with her friends she keeps referring to herself as "his girlfriend" and she thumbs over in my direction so they get the idea. It's kinda funny. She comes over to my place alot when I'm not home and she waits for me in my bed. It's great to come home from the store and walk into my room to find a crazed red head waiting for me. She's a total turn on. Jacinda is always up for just about anything in the bedroom and she's got me completely spun out. I really dig the way this girl looks. Sometimes she wears white thigh-high nylons with little black heeled buckle shoes and a black mini skirt and a tight top. I love that thigh-high mini skirt combo. Makes me crazy. Other times she's got the full on gothic thing rolling. Alot of girls can't pull off the gothic style but Jacinda really looks good when she does it. Her hair is long enough that she can put it up in these elaborate victorian buns. I've never seen anything like it. All I can say is, she's gorgeous.

2.20.1992 Part Three

Darrin and I haven't been talking much since I quit working with him on Cyanosis. I did harbor some anger toward him for a while but everything is cool now. He bought me a couple of drinks at a local wine bar on my twenty first birthday. I had a martini and then a long island iced tea. They were alright. I am jealous of the success Darrin has had with the first issue of Cyanosis. I'm not really into the direction he decided to take the magazine but I do think he was wise to avoid the interviews and articles I wrote. They wouldn't have fit in well with the rest of the magazine's content. When he decided to not use my material I had a temper tantrum and quit the project. I shouldn't have done that. Time will tell how successful he will be with Cyanosis and I wish him the best of luck.

I went to a dive bar this afternoon and I got a couple of beers with Joe and Antoni. We didn't talk about anything and just sat there drinking. Antoni split and then Joe gave me a lift back to the Junior College. I meandered around the parking lots until I got back to where my car was. A girl named Jacinda saw me walking around in the parking lots and she followed me. I didn't notice her until I was about to open up my car door. She came right up to where I was and said she had been meaning to talk to me and she asked if I would give her a ride downtown. It wasn't out of my way so I said sure and gave her a lift. As soon as we left the Junior College Jacinda asked if I wanted to go get some coffee with her. I said I'd go. We went to a new place that just opened up and when we got there she bought me a cup of coffee. I was amused because I didn't ask for anything, she just went ahead and got it for me. Pretty cool of her.

We sat down and talked for a long time. I didn't notice how long we had been there and all of a sudden it was much later in the day and the place was getting very crowded. We made some plans to go to the city together sometime soon. With my luck that probably won't happen. I'll give it a try anyway though. I really like the way this girl looks. Jacinda is a cute red head with great legs and big breasts. She's alot shorter than me but I'm really attracted to her. I like her style as far as the way she dresses too. Jacinda has this gothic, maybe even victorian look to her at times. It certainly is doing the trick...

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

2.20.1992 Part Two

I met my jerkoff neighbor for the first time a few nights ago. He's the guy who always whistles along to his lame music. I had a fear that gimp bastard was living out here in his art studio and sure enough, he is. It sucks. Nobody is supposed to be using these studios for living space but I think more weirdos and dirty hippies are doing just that. I can hear him fucking around in there almost all the time now. He's watching television with the volume turned way up and he's drinking beer. He's got this smelly piece of shit dog too.

My neighbor has some sort of weak ass art company that makes signs for businesses. I found out all about it from Adam. Adam was out here one night recently and I bought him some beer to keep him out of my hair while I was working on some school projects. The beer didn't help though. When he drinks he jaw-jacks the shit out of you. I asked Adam to quiet down so he went next door to make friends with the neighbor. Adam was over there for a while talking to the dummy and then he came back and told me he wished he hadn't gone over there after all. He said the guy was a total burnout and completely stupid. I could have told him that.

The ceiling in my studio has started to leak. I'd like to have another art show here in the main gallery before summer hits but I don't know if I'll be able to do it. I will have to give up the studio if I have to move out of the house. I won't be able to pay rent on both the studio and a room somewhere.

Things over at Joe Evilsizer's house are getting kinda sketchy. Joe is throwing Demi out because Demi is always violating Joe's personal property and his privacy. Joe is an all right guy, but he's very fussy about his house and the things in it. Joe is always up front with new room mates on what he expects but very few people seem to listen to him and follow his rules. Joe goes through room mates alot. I warned Demi a while back about pissing Joe off and he didn't listen so now he's being shown the door.

Joe's rules for the house are pretty simple and when you move in he runs through it all in great detail. You're told about the coffee maker and you're more than welcome to use it, but you have to pour the old coffee precisely down the drain and run water after it so it doesn't stain the sink. Joe hates cleaning the coffee stains and if he has to clean them it makes him real angry. It's ok for you to use Joe's seasoned cast iron fry pan anytime, but you can never wash it with soap when you are done. You have to use hot water and wipe it dry. He's been seasoning that pan for years southern style and if you fuck it up, you're doomed. You have to be respectful of his posessions and clean up after yourself in the kitchen and bathroom. It's all pretty straightforward stuff really. Demi has managed to break just about every one of those rules so far.

I have never seen Joe freak out as bad as he does when he discovers his fry pan has been violated with dish soap. Oh man. Well, there was one other time he really blew up in pure rage but I only heard about that incident. I wasn't there when it happened. Apparently one of Joe's previous room mates- well let me back up a bit. Joe is from the South. He likes to do alot of southern fried cooking and baking. There's an industrial sized can of Crisco on top of the refrigerator that Joe uses all the time. Joe started noticing large scoops being taken out of the Crisco and he didn't remember using that much the each time he cooked. I guess the mysterious scoops of Crisco became more frequent and more was missing each time. Joe couldn't figure it out. He asked his two room mates about it and nobody knew anything. The mystery of the missing Crisco perplexed Joe. Finally, one evening Joe grabbed the Crisco to cook something up and when he pulled the lid off the can he saw another huge scoop had been removed with a hand-like shape and there were pubic hairs in the surface of the Crisco. Joe was so pissed off. I guess he was able to tell who the culprit was from the hairs, don't ask me how. That guy got himself evicted with a vengeance.

This other room mate Joe had, guy by the name of Scott, got himself thrown out a while back. I knew Scott from around town for years. Sort of a local fixture and serious drunk. Scott used to drink so much he would put a couple drops of squirt soap on his tongue when he went out so nobody would know he had been drinking. He figured dish soap would be a good mouthwash to conceal his boozy breath. Trouble was he still reeked of liquor as he staggered around with soapy Palmolive breath. So everyone still knew he was hammered. Anyway Scott would pass out on the livingroom couch, or in his bedroom, and piss himself. It was bad enough he pissed the couch a couple of times but Joe had loaned Scott a spare mattress and he pissed on both sides of it for a few months. Ruined the mattress I think. Joe blew his stack and I was there when that happened. He went into Scott's room to help him move some furniture or something and he noticed the stains on the mattress. When he asked Scott how it happened, the argument ensued. Crazy shit.

My sister, Brandy has continued to treat me like crap. She's alot like Dad now. She only talks to me when she's forced to, or she wants something from me. I'm getting more and more angry about it. I'm sure when I move out of our parents house she won't bother to stay in touch.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

2.20.1992



I was supposed to be in school today from one to ten but I decided not to go. I'm having a real hard time getting motivated to go to the Junior College. For the most part my art instructors are has-been hippies leftover from the sixties that got nowhere with their art careers. They ended up teaching art rather than making it. I find it ironic because if they couldn't make it on their own as a successful artist they probably shouldn't be teaching art.

Dad has been a real fucking pain. He thinks I'm some sort of a total fuck up. Most of the time I don't understand where he is coming from. When I turned sixteen I got a job and since then I've been steadily employed. Sometimes I've kept two jobs at once. I've been involved in all sorts of cool projects like writing for Cyanosis and freelancing for Ipso Facto, and even started my own magazine project. None of that matters to dad. It's all junk. He kicked me out of the house last week because I slept through my alarm. I was supposed to be at school at nine in the morning for a printmaking class, but I dropped that class from my schedule. I didn't bother to tell him about it because I figured he'd flip out.

He woke me up by yelling at me. Then he grilled me about all sorts of crap that had nothing to do with anything. I told him what I thought of him and it turned out that wasn't a good thing for me to do. It just made everything much worse. He left the house in a rage. Apparently he took the pink slip for my car to the DMV to have it re-registered in my name so it would cause my insurance to be more expensive. It would raise my yearly premium from $700 to $1200 a year. He knows this and seems to be happy about it. Dad feels that I am fucking him over financially, and that I'm doing it delibrately. I don't get it. I just don't make enough money at Petrini's. I'd like to move out of my parents house right away but I've got no money to do it. Petrini's is worthless.

Things at the store have gotten alot worse. Between the Canadian company that bought us out, and the idiots at our main office, we'll soon be out of business. People come to our store for two reasons. One, because we carry items nobody else has, and two, because of our superior customer service. Well, they keep getting rid of the specialty items. Sales are down so the main office continues to cut back on our hours. With less employees in the store at any given time we can't keep the same high levels of customer service going. Customers are getting angry and some of them I don't see here anymore. Morale is really bad. Most of the store managers keep saying "It's Over" to each other like it's some secret greeting.

Some of the guys have been using a wiffle ball bat on the squeezed oranges from the juicer machine they have back in the produce department. The juicer machine goes through cases of fresh oranges pretty fast and the produce guys have to dump the squeezed oranges into a rusty 55 gallon drum. For fun they take turns pitching the orange husks at each other and whacking them with the wiffle ball bat. Some of them are damn good hitters. They'll cause the oranges to go sailing clean out of the warehouse and up into the rafters above the main aisles. I think I found one of them recently on top of the dog food aisle. The orange was dirty brown and shrank to about the size of a hacky sack. At first I didn't know what it was but then I saw the three holes the juicer machine makes when it crushes the oranges. Makes them look like little bowling balls because of the hole pattern. Anyway when I went to grab it a swarm of fruit flies came out of the holes. Kinda nasty.

Senor 23 invited me into the warehouse for some Forklift Freshness Testing (FFT) that he likes to do on random grocery items. The way FFT works is you take an item and you place it on the ground. Then you drive over the item with the forklift and see if it is "fresh". Senor 23 tells me that so far nothing has passed the test. The first item we tested for freshness was a loaf of Wonder bread. It was crushed flat, so I guess it didn't pass. Next was a can of chopped black olives. It also failed the FFT. Miserably.

Our store director has been out on medical leave for a while now. He had some surgery done on his shoulder. Guess he messed it up somehow. While he's been out some of the guys have started filling the pockets of their aprons with gum balls from the bulk food bins. The gum balls are being used for ammo in the warehouse and the back rooms. The whole area has turned into a gum ball warzone. At any given time there's hundreds of shattered gum balls lying around. The other day I was back there trying to find an item that we ran out of on the floor for an impatient customer and just as I came around the corner from the receiving area I saw one of the guys throw a gumball up into the rafters at Rad Rob. He was up behind the main office on a cat walk looking for something. The gumball just missed him and went straight up into a bank of flourescent lights just above where Rad Rob was standing. A couple of the tubes shattered out and all that white powder and glass bits rained down on Rad Rob. It was pretty fuckin' cool to watch.

Been closing the store alot lately with The Colonel. It's been fun. After we close up and start on our chores to get the store cleaned up for the following morning he makes his rounds by riding inside an old rolling ice cream case that we used to have on the front of the frozen aisle. It's one of those ones that's a top down loader with sliding glass doors. He's scrawny so he can slide one of the doors open and sit inside like it's a go cart and then he has one of the baggers push him around the aisles to check up on us. He put two cardboard signs on either side of the damn thing and put the double lightning bolt SS on it. When he rolls up on you, you get a crisp Nazi salute and he puts on his best German accent. He'll ask where you are at with your tasks and how much longer it's gonna take you to finish up. Then he's off in his bagger-powered SS ice cream case to hassle someone else. It's hard not to laugh.

We hired a new kid recently. He's extra dumb. I call him "Cupcake" because of his hairdo. He has fire engine red hair that he let grow out and then he had it shaved up to the top of his ears all the way around like a bowl cut. So the top of his hair looks like the top of a cupcake in a foil wrapper. Everything we ask him to do he somehow manages to screw it up. It's been making alot of the other baggers mad. Dave decided to give him the job of shaking bottles of salad dressings. I love that shit. Usually happens to the new guy. Dave took him over to the produce department and told him that the bottles of salad dressings will go bad if we don't keep them fresh by shaking them daily. So he told Cupcake-head to start shaking dressings. We left him over there for a couple of hours and forgot about him. The Colonel got mad since he hadn't seen Cupcake on the front end of the store for a long while and went looking for him. Sounds to me like he was dumbfounded to see Cupcake standing alone in the produce area madly shaking a bottle of salad dressing in each hand. When he asked him what the fuck he was doing and why, he told The Colonel about Dave giving him the job of keeping the salad dressings fresh. The Colonel kinda got riled up about it. It probably wouldn't have been such a big deal if he'd only been over there for a few minutes but since we forgot about him for a couple hours, that changed things. Hey, at least we didn't lock him in the checker's count-down room and drench him with seltzer water...

Monday, August 16, 2004

1.13.1992

I worked 11 to 4 at the store today. After work I went to the Junior College to get squared away with my classes. Luckily I got all the classes I wanted, twelve units worth. While I was there I got my parking permit, new ID card, and I went into my first session with a course counsellor. It was productive. I'm going to start working on my AA degree as of tomorrow morning at 9. That's gonna suck. It's all art courses and if everything goes well next semester I'll start on my general ed classes.

Things with Katie didn't work out. On new year's eve she came out here to the studio with Dolly and Colleen. Adam was here and Brandy showed up with Ben (her dirtbag boyfriend). Scott and Luke popped in through the night with some other people but for most of the night it was me and Adam here with the three girls. Katie and I went into the gallery for a while to get away from everyone else. I locked the door behind us to make sure Dolly didn't barge in. Katie and I stood there for a while grabbing at each other. Everything seemed cool.

Dolly became intensely drunk and obnoxious, as usual. Dolly managed to ruin my gig with Katie by waiting until Katie and Colleen had left the studio to go to her car and as soon as they left, Dolly came out of nowhere and jumped on me. It was shitty. Katie didn't see what happened since she apparently was waiting for Dolly outside. The next day Dolly went around telling people she had "gotten together" with me, which was a flat out lie. That's what she told Katie anyway, and I guess after that she decided I was a total fucker. I talked to Katie about it some more a few days afterward but she still said she didn't want to see me anymore. I tried to tell her my side of the story but I stopped and decided to just leave it alone. After I thought about it some more I realized Katie wasn't worth the effort. I was guilty of crimes that night to be sure, but it wasn't from being filthy with Dolly, no sir. I'm angry at Dolly, disappointed with Katie, and I want to nail Colleen.

New Year's Eve really turned into a disaster. Dolly was a total drunken beast. Repulsive. Katie was being cool, then not. Colleen was turning me on. She was cute as hell that night. Colleen got way too loaded. She handled her booze well enough at first, but she's tiny and all of a sudden it must have beat her down. She went across the hall to the bathroom probably to puke. I followed her in there and messed around with her for a bit. She didn't act like she wanted me to go away so I played around with her for a few minutes. Then she started whimpering about how she had to go home. Problem was as I found out later, she had lied to her parents and said she was spending New Year's Eve at Katie's grandparents house. Colleen had a curfew. She freaked out when she realized she was hours late in getting home. By this time Katie was too hammered to drive Colleen to a phone so I decided to take her to a nearby corner store that had a pay phone out front.

I managed to get Colleen out of the barracks building and into my car. She slumped over in the seat with her head resting on the door and she looked like she would throw up at any moment. The corner store was a quick drive and when we got there I hopped out and opened the passenger door for her. Just as I swung the door open she leaned out and projectile vomited onto the pavement. Luckily, she missed my shoes. I gave her a quarter and watched her dial her parent's number. I sat on the hood of my car observing and when Colleen started talking I had to fight the urge to laugh. She was slurring her words so badly and she started spinning this elaborate lie that just wasn't working. At one point she just gave up talking and held the phone up in the air towards me. I figured what the hell. This could be funny.

I got on the phone and said hello. A woman's voice said, "Are you Katie's grandfather?" That really cracked me up. I laughed and said no, I wasn't. Then she asked me where we were. I told her to hold on for a second while I checked the nearest street sign. I knew the area well enough to drive through and get around but I didn't know the street names. I can't remember what the street sign said now, but I told the woman on the phone what corner we were on. Then she says in a panic stricken voice, "You stay where you are. I'm calling the police!" I was startled and dumbfounded. A few seconds of silence went by while I thought of something to say. Then I said, "Well I can't have that now can I?" I hung up.

Now I had a dilemma. Colleen was underage and I was not going to allow myself to get beat-down by the man for something this dumb. It was a little after 11pm and I didn't want to miss midnight in the main exhibit hall at the barracks building. Colleen's parents house was two towns over, off a freeway that leads into the boonies. Would Colleen be coherent enough to give me directions to her house? Or would she get us lost somewheres and puke all over the inside of my car in the process? It was a real fuckin' drag but I decided to try to get her home. Every cop in the county was probably rolling on the streets looking to bust drunk drivers, and I certainly had been drinking. Back in my art studio I had stashed about a dozen bottles of champagne and by eleven o' clock half of them were already dust. I was buzzed. Maybe even drunk.

It took us about a half hour to get close to where Colleen lived. When I was fairly ceratin she gave me good directions and we got close to her parents street I turned out my headlights and drove down the road until I was a couple houses away from where she said her house was. I pulled over and let her out. It was a rural road with no streetlights and obviously no one around was awake so I figured she'd be ok. I wanted to turn around and start driving back to the art studio before Daddy came out of the house with his shotgun seeking violent retribution. I got the hell out of there.

I made it back to the barracks buildings a few minutes before midnight. The party in the main hall turned out to be pretty weak so the whole attempt at rushing back in time was a complete waste. There was nothing but a bunch of dirty art-hippies whacked out of their minds on drugs and liquor. All of them were trying way too hard to be the night's main attraction. Most of 'em stunk real bad too.