...the Hell I put myself through, replaying memories in my head...of you and I.
I'm still pretty upset that Kelly Clarkson cancelled her summer tour. Get well soon, Kelly. Some of us still love you. I believe Amy Lee said it best, Liiiiithiuuuuuuuuum; he sang, woefully off-key. Naturellement.
And yes, My December is quite good. Especially One Minute and Don't Waste Your Time. My in car karaoke versions of both have gotten quite good, thanks for asking. But she really seems to have an issue with trophy wives, don't she?
This morning I asked a Premium (8, maybe 8.5) cigarette company rep if it ever bothered her that she deals Death to children. Yes, she got it. She immediately qualified herself with the argument that she doesn't actually handle that end of the business, she merely handles the accounts or some such. I countered with right, that's what they all say.
Did I mention that she introduced herself first? Christie. Nope, didn't mention the kismet of our names being so close. I no longer roll like that.
Then I asked if she ever got free samples from her employer (always thinking, me). She replied that only when a new product debuts, it's not like all they do is sit around in meetings and smoke. I added and drink and shoot off guns and club seals. And then, at this juncture, had I not been coming off 12 hours and 7 straight days of the sheer torture I call my current (hopefully temporary) career path; I'd have asked for her card. And then busted on her for just handing these things out to people. But alas, alack, even; it never even occurred to me until hours later that this was the natural progression. Obviously my job is killing me. However, on the positive tip, she'll be back. She'll definitely remember our little encounter (I had like 2 minutes before I turned her over to a store manager). I'm attaining unconscious competence (although I still require work). I didn't come off as an AFC. And I made her laugh, possibly even established rapport. Progress was made. I'm a little bit better than I was yesterday. Which is all I ask.
Now I just need to remember my ABC's. Always Be Closing.
The first night of my new job, the store was flooded when i arrived. I should've taken that as a portent. Place is a complete fucking black hole and is totally fucking up my career path. WAIT a minute, did I just use the words my and career path in the same sentence? Wow, it seems that I did. What have I become? I barely even know me anymore.
But I'd still bang me. And you likely would, too.
The geophysicist recently took me to see Mamma Mia. What? Love love LOVE me some ABBA. Always have. Always will. A friend of hers (cute, nice rack, the 3 of us had a nice little hot tub party apres; the geophysicist recently purchased one...and yes, it has been christened the old fashioned way) used to be the stage manager for this touring company of the production and was thusly able to secure us prime seating. I'm starting to feel kinda bad about always busting on her for her lisp and, that night, for the fact that her date flaked and she had to take her brother instead. Because now, my brown eyes are turning green at the fact that she's met 3 of the members of ABBA. Which is about all I've got, Hey Jealousy (to drop some Gin Blossoms on y'all)-wise.
Went to Applebee's for supper last week. Yes, the geophysicist paid. That IS how I roll. Anyhoo, our fine, Barely Legal (at best) young waitress folk was flirting with me. For some reason, waitress folks always seem to be impressed by the fact that I eat 2 entrees and an appetizer at a single sitting yet I remain long and lean. Do with that as you'd like. Please. In fact, since I've started the descent into the 3rd circle of Purgatory I morosely refer to as my new job, I've dropped 2 waist sizes. I now swim in my size 34 jeans.
My fair city is currently under siege by rampaging hordes of tourists and hicks of all flavours for what I like to refer to as the Yokel Jamboree. Those who aren't in the know may sometimes call it the Calgary Stampede. Nope, haven't Gone. Nope, not going to. I prefer to work my own little goofy variation of day game in malls and on hired guns. But that's just me. And yes, I constantly practice on the attractive women at work.
I'm also pretty disconsolate that the NBA Summer League is in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada and I'm not. Sigh. Despite the recent shooting at New York New York. Well, maybe they'll drop the room rates some as a result. Again, always thinking, me.
It's over, it's over, it's over...friend. If you don't know, ask.