You know what?

Fuck regret.

Another Short Post About Work

Oh, and the license to sell bulk items in the candy store expired over two years ago. Shocking.

The Again Return of Workin' Man

Whoo.

Where to start.

In my culture, there are three steps toward a man's knowing of the world of finance.
Step 1: Make $100 selling candy during the morning shift. Think $100 is "pretty good."
Step 2: Make $800 selling candy during the night shift. Think $800 is "pretty good."
Step 3: Go to turn in $800 to Elitches bank, notice a slip for one of the four clerks with a running total of the money they've catalogued that evening at over $45,000. Think $45,000 is "a lot of fucking money."

Damn, I think of so many great things to write about during the day, than I can never remember any of them.

The bus trip from the employee parking lot is a surreal experience. Imagine every stereotypical desert junkyard you've seen in every movie. Now replace the beat-up cars and tumbleweeds with faded (but still bright) ride backdrops and decrepit Bug Bunny statuary. It's eerie.

Also: there is this ride at Elitches, the Twister II, which is a wooden roller coaster. I've been on it a few times; it's a fun ride. When you're waiting for said bus to pick you up, you sit on a bench about 30 feet from this roller coaster, and you get the treat of watching it tremble violently and sway in excess of 1 foot every time a coaster car goes over it. I don't doubt it's safe, and I'll probably end up riding it again sometime, but it's still freaky.

My thighs still hurt, but my ankles not nearly as much. I'm taking that as a good sign.

Workin' Man

I thought it would be a bad day when the first thing I heard upon entering Elitches was the Looney Toons (tm) singing Jailhouse Rock. It is a good thing I was mistaken.

Not that it was totally awesome, either. Pretty boring most of the time, but I'm ok with that. From what I've heard, I actually have it pretty good. I work inside, so while temperatures outside today climbed well into the 90s, I never got above a balmy 75. We get to listen to the radio and talk to each other, which I hear from Outside is the exception rather than the rule. Basically I just stand behind a counter and wait for people to buy stuff. Sometimes, to break the monotony, I restock the beverage cooler or rearrange misplaced items. The only real problem I have is that there are many items without prices on them, so I'm stuck either a) asking someone, which is a gamble, because often they don't know either, and b) making up a price that sounds good. I sometimes end up going with option b, which sounds a bit iffy, but I'm not too worried.

Speaking of prices, the price sticker gun is the greatest thing ever concieved of by man. I totally love that thing.

Hey, what's the deal with traffic? Sometimes it's bad because there are too many cars around, or there's an accident ahead, or it's raining, but there are other, mutant times where there seems to be no rhyme or reason to it. Cars slow down, stop, then start right up again, perhaps in response to a predator. I don't get it.

(The preceeding paragraph was brought to you by Jerry Seinfeld (tm).)

Now, to crack a brew, put my feet up, and watch the game. Oh wait, I have dinner with my extended family. Gruh.

That Funky Ninja

So I've been reading this comic, White Ninja, linked to by the good people at your neighborhood Penny Arcade. I've been unable to determine whether the authors of said comic are true comedic geniuses of the Old Order or simply insane. Take, for example, this comic. See? I told you.

Minesweeper is a great game. I got my beginner time down to 7 seconds, which I felt was pretty good. Turns out the record is 1 second, which means the first click shows all the mines, which only happens about 0.001 % of the time. Guess I have to keep playing.

Jerome