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Dusty Springfield "Just a Little Lovin'" |
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Hey there, lovelies. I've been trying to reach deadjournal all day, but for some reason the link wasn't working, so I finally get a chance to update at like... 11:45 PM the night before I work at 8 AM the following day. Mark, for once in his God forsaken life, has moved his granny ass to the couch out in the basement area... so finally I can use the computer later than 5 PM. What a goddamn gift! My mom has argued repetitively, "There's no need to be online that late anyway!" That's not true, Mom, when the hell else will I be able to cyber with fifty year old men in prison? They aren't morning birds, Mom. Jesus.
But alright, here's your big news: I have been working, working, working. I'm already done with my training at Chipain's (pretty remarkable considering I still don't know what asparagus looks like). As I already mentioned, I'm working tomorrow morning at 8, and I'm going all the way to 2. That is so close to 9 to 5, y'all. I may need to rally together a Dolly Parton party at Chipain's to make it through the longer days. What's so whack about the personnel at Chipain's is how much the whole place is so typically a grocery store... like, there are the moms in their late 40s who work there and chat about little trivial things, and there's the one girl who's like 20, single, and has a kid. To quote her: "Don't even try tellin' his cousin he's three years old! Nuh uh, 'You're three,' 'Nope, I'm two!'" She reminded me of how my cousin Tiffany and her family talked casually. Very Joliet-inspired. Some of the women who work there are so sweet... to the point where they're really trying at it. One woman said to me, "Ohhh... have you been working registers here awhile?" obviously knowing I was new, expecting me to be complimented by how she mistook me for a longtime employee. M'am, I'm a superstar by trade. Don't pretend I'm any good at this fucking register. I swear, my new nightmare in life is getting a customer who has food stamps, needs to purchase beer, wants to pay with a check, needs cash back, has products that all get voids, and also has fourteen different kind of African produce. I picture myself at the end of this nightmare curled in the fetal position underneath my register muttering "21... 21..." again and again, waiting for someone to scan liquor that actually doesn't exist. I'll be limping through the next few days of work for sure... hopefully Empress Georgia and her reign over the Lemont grocery industry will be sympathetic.
I've gotta be up in less than six hours (of course I won't be a cranky bitch tomorrow!). So more of an update will be coming soon... God do I hate short-changing myself and y'all with these lame little turd entries. Louis Virtel = epic. My journal should be reflecting that. Ooh, also tomorrow, my brother Greg is graduating eighth grade, so I guess I'm attending that and then Portillos afterward with the family. The day is full... you'd almost think this wasn't summer. Anyhoo, catch you later, love you guys, thanks for hopping along.
"Just a step on the boss man's ladder," xoxo,
Louis.
P.S. Totally conversed with this guy Scott from Iowa online. Things were pretty heated. I should tell you more about that later. Heart.
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