This is my favorite story from this weekend.

My grandfather was an incredible businessman. He was so good that the Church asked him to carry the collection plate every Sunday at mass. The son of one of his friends tell me a story from one Sunday a pretty long while ago.

"My father is sitting in the pews next to his best friend Tommy. It comes to collection time and Frank (my grandfather) comes down the aisle with his basket, not the kind you pass up and down the aisles but one of those stuck to the end of a long stick. He holds it out in front of my dad and he puts a five dollar bill in. Keep in mind, that was a lot of money back then. Next Frank turns to Tommy. Tommy reaches around and pretends to search his back pockets for his wallet. Of course he doesn't have it, he never did, the guy didn't even have a license so what would he be doing with a wallet? Anyway, Franky starts to get impatient with Tommy so he pokes him with the basket a few times.

"Come on, cough it up."

But, of course, Tommy doesn't have anything to cough up so Frank turns back to my father and starts poking him with the basket.

"Cover him."

My father can't do anything else so he reaches back into his wallet and pulls out another five dollar bill."

This thing is getting silly.

I'm thinking of renaming my cat.

Goodbye Stuart Ransom Miller...

Hello Biggy Fries.

(Though Stripy is still in the running.)



Maybe I'll just get another fish. I do miss The Lyrical Assassin.

Sigh

Oh my.

Do you ever have one of those days that's just so good you feel like a jerk for complaining about all those other days?


Leah and I have perfected the oatmeal chocolate chip raisin cookie.

It involves 2 parts chocolate to every one part raisin

and extra brown sugar (but Leah doesn't know I did that.)



"...what's clear is that you can do A work if you want to." From my English Lit teacher, at the end of my most recent paper. Thank God SOMEONE is looking out for my self-esteem is all I have to say.



I'm going to sleep in tomorrow because I did so much work these past two days.
No class until 2. I'm going to eat cookies for breakfast then sit around my house and play my music too loud

and sing

the wrong words.

Then I will go to class late and sit in the back looking unapproachable pretending that I haven't just been singing in my room with my cat and Steve.

It's that time of year again!

It's time for the annual COMPANY PICNIC.

Yes! The end of April has rolled around once again and with it comes your invitation to the company picnic.

Saturday April 30 at Reid Park. It starts at 11:00 and goes until 3. I know you know what company I'm talking about because I know you all got the exact same invitation that I did this past Friday.

So, I will see you there.

And maybe we will play tether ball

or volleyball with Glenn

and he will bring Peaches the dog.

Don't worry, I will remind you in person...

a few times.

<3

pity whore

I sense an impending ebb.




I think it's ok to have a bad day if your hair doesn't look good anymore

or if Dinese is getting transferred again

or if your teachers talk too much about things you aren't interested in

or if it's too hot

or if you miss your kitty because he is sick and living with you will only make him sicker

or if your house floods.



Today was a bad day.

There is a certain arrogance surrounding the coffee business. People have this idea that working in a coffee store is more respectable than working in any other form of food service. If you don't believe this ask any Canyon Cafe (coffee) employee if they would ever consider quitting and working at the Three Cheeses and a Noodle (Italian restaurant.) I guarantee they will laugh and then be disgusted by the idea. Coffee jerk is a 'better' job than any job at the noodle restaurant. In fact, the lowest position in a coffee store seems more respectable than higher positions in other restaurants.

Working in a coffee store gives people an odd perspective on their own importance. Cafes lack the concept of working your way up. There is no bottom. This is one of the reasons that it seems more respectable than other food jobs. Baristas were never dish washers. You can walk into any other place and kind of assume that at some point the person working there had their arms elbow deep in greasy water or walked around with stains on their shirt from busing tables. There is no bad or hard job in the coffee business that the employees can be embarrassed or humbled about having to do at some point.

This lack of job stratification also creates a lack of hierarchy. Nobody is above anyone else. Who would be taken seriously if they decided to take charge (even if they were technically in a higher paying position than their coworker) and demanded that someone else needed to put out more lids or a new box of straws? You can't dictate easy jobs to other people, it just doesn't work that way. So everyone feels like the top of the ladder right from the start because no one is telling them what to do.

There's also no hard jobs, nobody is any better at making coffee than anyone else to a degree of any significance. When was the last time someone requested a specific barista without everyone else rolling their eyes at her? Right, those people are crazy. But there are good waitresses and there are bad ones, same with cooks and even dish washers. Coffee people are safe from the possibility of someone else being better than they are. We are all the best at what we do.

I have forgotten why I started this and for that reason I am not sure what to conclude.

Proof I am a bad person

Excerpts from my most recent favorite fiction class stories:

"Believe me when I tell you that I was dying inside when I told you those horrible words, I was hurting too, however when you left I thought that maybe you would forget about me and have a better life, or so I thought."

"She tried desperately to erase all those ill feelings away, but it was impossible, the simple fact of being rejected and denied love was a consuming pain for her, and to be not loved back, it meant death. So instead she closed herself in her own shell, but now the same person who put her in it was trying to get her out."

"It was the kind of day where you could toast a piece of bread outside."

...

This is where I live

Last night Todd had a party at my house.

He invited the fifteen year old he broke up with last semester because she though she was pregnant

and many of her friends.


This morning our bathroom was torn up.

The backyard has turned into a trash heep with torn up magazines, beer cans, and the five pieces our kitchen table is in scattered about.


When I fed my cat this morning i found that someone had put a knife in his litter box.

If you want to change your name just remember

It doesn't matter what the first part is if your name is followed by "the Great."