i'm so terribly bored

so here i am on my evil blog again, typing away on a keyboard i can't even see cuz it's too fucking dark and i'm kinda buzzed from the red wine i've been drinking all night. but it's only been 2 glasses of pinot noir over a three hour period, perhaps when combine with the nautious music, an inability towards coordination is manifested.

sometimes i wish i was a japanese tourist. a cute couple just walked in, the guy is really quite hot, though i suspect if i got a closer inspection my assessment my decrease somewhat in relation to his potential dork factor. i can hear the female talking right now, her voice is reedy - i suppose that's as good an adjective as any, it is not pleasing, but it is not displeasing in a high pitched stereotypical way, more mid range to her timbre.

oh the lament of the 13 plus hour day. sure i net $200, but is it worth it to have no life. perhaps i could do food service at a posh restaurant and make more, but oh how i despise serving and the fake-itude associated with such. oh the horror of once working at a denny's. i had to answer the phone today at my god damn dumb job number one, it fucking sucked. EVERY time i got up to something, the phone would ring, and it didn't ring that much, but always in inapporitune spurts, and managing two calls at once, a bitch, especially with some of the bitches i work with. i mean most of the people at taste are really quite very cool. there are really one or two that somewhat irritate me with their condescending attitudes of bougeous entitlement. but oh to be the head mistress's assistant, i suppose acting like a cunt occasionally is really part of the job description. and i suppose it's really to my benefit to perceive someone else in the office almost as lazy as me, asside from the receptionist, of whom i was temporarily filling in for. though i must concede, her job most definitely does suck. really! answering the phone all day fucking done been pissing me off. additionally i be the master of multi-tasking, thus i be performing jamaica's job as well as mine for the duration of the day, all of course to only minimal notice and appreciation by my big mean boss, although aside from a few choice moments, he was not too much of a dick to me today.

so here i be at the jazz club, joshua is spinning waiter trays on his fingers again, incessently like kareem abdul jamaal, only without the fucking basket balls. i always get a particular child recollection at such moments, from about first or second grade, some kid who could spin a basketball on his finger much to the amazement of all the children, a feat render all to impossible for my fragile finger, for were not those basketballs ever so heavy? even now, not a task i might embark upon, for my elongated digits of useless musical virtue are ever so materialistically of utmost importance to my person. why i recall the now horrors of spraining fingers in middle school and high school PE classes, oh the horror, the horror. such childhood tortures of which i was forced to endure, and to what ends? did i ever gain any atheletic appreciation let alone learn anything of value? no, only but to be endless taunted and perhaps near sodomized for being a glorious motherfucking faggot. fuck the folly of my desire to rise forth through the public school system via brainwashing from televised programming. all a bunch a bullshit. but oh the character. really, imagine the negative bitter bitch queen i might not have become.