You owe me, bitch

I couldn't get the freakin' nail out of the door, and now the landlord is pissed--he says I owe him for a new door. It's a fucking nail! It's not like I broke the door down or smashed it in with a bat. Hell, I know people with HOLES in their doors. It still locks, it still swings open and closed. It just so fucking happens to have a nail embedded in the center of it. So now I owe money toward a new door, and he won't take it out of the security deposit. He says he'll probably need that when I move before he would be able to rent the apartment again. Ha ha. I'd try to get the money from Natalie, since she's the genius that nailed the door in the first place. She won't answer my calls though.

Thanks for Nothing

I still don't know what the surprise was and Natalie is still pissed. Just because I didn't come home until morning is no reason to be pissed especially when she's done it to me so many times. I came home to a note -nailed- to my door that read "Thanks for nothing!" Where the hell did she find a nail let alone a hammer?

I couldn't help it though. That guy with the spiked hair who comes in all the time and buys the U2 imports got to talking to me and we went out for drinks after work. I was intrigued. I had to find out what an obviously intelligent guy was doing buying that kind of crap. I never found out or if I did I don't remember. tequila is my friend. I think his name was Jiro or Chiro or ... oh, who cares? He likes U2.

������������������������������

Tonight could be interesting

I got a call from Natalie, she said she'd be stopping over later with a few surprises for me. She wouldn't give me any clues, but I finally squeezed it out of her that she'd be stopping at the liquor store before she hit my place. I don't know anything about the other things, and I don't have any idea what she could be up to. Not knowing what's going on could be a good thing. There's a mystery--I haven't had so much fun in a while, so she'd better not fuck me over like she did the other night.

Barry is a Prick

There's only six goddamn people who work there! How effing hard can it be to write a goddamn schedule???? And two of the six are Barry and his idiot mail order bride wife! It's their store, I would think all their free time would be devoted to THEIR store!

Barry put me down for Thursday night, Friday night AND Saturday night this week! That just screws my entire week. I can't be social after nine hours listening to bad music and dealing with idiots! I'm gonna have to bring a bottle of vodka in with me just to get through those three nights.

Just because that stupid fat hippie deadhead owns the stupid store he thinks he can run all of our lives too. Barry should just a get a clue, teach his dumb wife to speak English, give us the store and go back to following the Dead around like he used to. Stupid bastard. Then I wouldn't have to work Thursday, Friday and Saturday - some other idiot would.

Sunday Morning at Church

I got up bright up and early this morning. I made myself healthy wheat pancakes and got dressed in my best clothes. I walked through the sunshine and said hello to all my neighbors out walking their dogs or jogging or just enjoying the day. At Church the pastor spoke of the evils of alcohol and premarital sex and I shouted gleefully "Amen!" when he was done. I came home and guiltily had a donut while I read the Sunday paper and laughed at that rascal Garfield and his pal Ziggy.

Psych! I'm still in bed. Where's the frigging Tylenol?