A day:
Work
These are the two warehouse guys,
actually the one on the left is gone now, decided he wanted to work a lot harder for a little more.
He had it made in the warehouse, he'd cook up an omelet on a hot plate every morning in his makeshift kitchen complete with mini-fridge. He'd blast music like Tool, death metal, a little country, whatever. Before he quit smoking pot and chain smoking menthols he did that back in the warehouse too.
He also moonlighted as a College cheer leading coach. Yeah, he was one of the guys who showed the other guys how to hold a 100lb girl in a mini skirt in the palm of your hand up over your head. Said he wasn't into pornography.
A couple of years back I had stopped in to pick up something and he was brooding.
"Man, my cat, Fish, died."
That's the way I heard it - My cat Fish - I thought he'd done it (named his cat "Fish") to be funny.
As he continued I realized he meant Catfish and then I thought it was kind of ridiculous, to be that upset over a fish.
I don't think I have to explain to you the limitations of a Mans-Best-Fish relationship.
But okay so this is the guy who was almost giddy because he'd scored tickets to a Dave Mathews concert in Wisconsin a couple of months back, he's got a soft side (and a high-tolerance for nauseating 'entertainment' in my opinion, a DM song here and there, uh...but a whole concert of that shit? ).
Then he says he's so distraught and teetering on rage at the death of mortal-beloved-aquatic that he felt like, quote- "I want to smash the next niggers head that comes digging in our dumpster for scraps"- unquote. And not in a jokey way like some folks would.
He's gone now as I mentioned earlier but before he'd left and after I was hired on as an employee he pulled me aside and said, "Hey, is it okay if we give you the nickname K2, you know, just between us in the warehouse?"
I said, Haven't you already? , and then he laughed that huge guttural laugh he always did - you know, the kind of guy who almost always follows up a comment with a huge wind-blowing guttural stink laugh in your face -
So after a week of incessant call outs of "K2!" - (to give you an idea of the sheer volume of call outs, I started avoiding the warehouse or at least the main entry doors in fact I would walk out the front door walk along the grass between the building and the highway to the regular emergency exit door which was always open, for ventilation purposes I guess, located at the very back in opposite to the very front I'd originated from just to get something I needed off a shelf that was just the other side of one of the showroom walls towards the back, where I had been when I realized I needed this something and could have just made two-three steps through the double swinging doors to the warehouse but because I was overloading on "K2!"'s and really needed to not get fired I would avoid being detected in this way.
AA
Suzanne, crazy, volume-control-gone-haywire, Suzanne.
Now she's chairing the Friday 6 o'clock, now she's in control.
Suzanne does her reading and then she 'asks' if she can go first knowing (and that's what I hate is when someone says, "Does anybody mind if...?" when they know no one is going to say they mind.
Maybe, to be fair, no one will actually mind but they don't give a fuck - it's passive aggressive line cutting. It's bullshit. Also; "Can I ask a rhetorical question?" they're rhetorically asking to ask a rhetorical question, they [rhetorical question askers et al] do not expect nor will there be an real chance of an interjection denying them their rhetorical question opportunity. And, to point out the obvious: "Can I ask two rhetorical questions?" would be accur - no wait, that makes it three) that she'll be allowed to drag us through her Burlington story one more time.
One guy is staring at the inside of his hat.
Another is staring at red-piercing hate. I can just sense it.
Several exchanges of the usual and then over to me.
"I don't have anything sad or depressing to report and I'm feeling pretty good for the moment so, I'm going to pass."
- Long Silence
Suzanne, unsteady, is bobble-heading at me.
"So, back to you, Suzanne." - in a not too shabby local news anchor impression.
Not really any discernable appreciation for my efforts.
Home
(Peoria County Jail)
In the common room.
Was probably going to be obvious but...
black guy says, "Somebody, gonna be trouble. Yes, sir."
Why?
"Sign right there say 'Do not close blinds'." (blinds are closed but the sign clearly reads, Do not open blinds. I can't figure how he went wrong there. I just walk back out of the room.)
Dinner:
I call him Adidas, Because, not very interestingly, he wears an Adidas sport shirt, jacket, shorts and when he's not wearing his Adidas shoes he's wearing his obvious-brand sandals.
Adidas guy, better than "New Fat Guy" or NFG as I had been referring to him in my notes.
He sits before a 'dinner' tray hunched over the thing , legs bouncing up and down giving the impression he's about to tackle the tray - looks like that football player warm up thing they do when they run in place furiously - nkind of hunched over with their hands out in front of them air-tickling like hulking pedophiles outside a boy-whore* house in Tapei at the fore-start of a 'backdoor buster sale' The passion runs high.
He goes through the local rag, eyebrows gesticulating wildly as his eyes jump from picture to picture. Then he hits the bunk after a trip to the bathroom and probably a self-burping.
Baby go poop and take nappy now.
Walking by guy with earbuds listening to music he says, not sings, "...Somethings gotta turn out right." and it's that thing where the faint 'noise' suddenly reveals itself by additional clue that it's a familiar tune you happen to like and so I say to him, "Alice in Chains" and he says, "I don't have any change." and I repeat louder and he pulls out one ear bud and says, "I'm listening to Alice in Chains."
No shit. Disengage.
*credit to Sean Rouse
