campaign headquarters pins to get pinned me on the trail
i swear, i didn't invent work.
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though, i'm like some fucking mathematical and sociological genius of mass proportion, contrary to popular belief, i did not invent work. i am lazy, but not lazy enough to miss taping my favorite tv shows and watching them repeatedly. and uhh, i am not so lazy, i think. i like to drink a lot and all, that don't make me lazy becuase then i gotta worry about finding the booze before stores close and know what times all the different stores close and which ones are cheaper and so maybe it's better to leave the house during that 70's show so i can buy beer from jewel because they got the cheapest prices around, especially if you got that preffered card. and you should definitely get one if you live in the chicago area. or else you could just scam them and say you left your jewel preferred card at home and lie! boo ya! see, see, i'm not lazy, right. i just hate working. fucking everyday there's some rich lady complaining about the way her groceries are bagged and goddamnit, you can tell by the rocks on her fingers and her smooth skin that she's never had to double bag a paper bag before or wrap meat into those freezer bags that take forever to get to open all the way up becuase this world was designed against common logic. the best is when you just drop someone's pears into a bag and they sigh in horror because you may have bruised their fruit, or one of their cupcakes turned on its side and fucking the world imploded because this bitch can't eat a cupcake that has the little dollop of frosting on the top a little bit mashed. dollop. what a dumb word. i bet a customer invented it. i mean, it's pretty humbling to know that one day you'll be the president and now you're dealing with fucking people that spend more on groceries than my life savings. but there are some funny stories like when i pack their bags and then they attempt to lift it up all halfassed and then they say, "oh no. i can't lift that. that's way too heavy. redo it. i have a bad back!" and then i redo it so i won't get written up. even though i had a dream the other night that i was yelling at all the customers: "no fuck you bitch! this line is closed. it's closed!!!" and then i started throwing things at them. in my dream i was written up ten times for infractions and then promptly fired. but, this company has a fucking gun to my head to be nice to customers. serious. there's an infared scope and a sniper placed in the front office looking over the grocery floor. and if i fucking have one scowl on my face for one millisecond, that sniper is ready to take me out. no questions asked. and then the supervisor has to come over and drag my lifeless body to the back dumpster land in the produce department and they crunch me up into a square. i swear, i've seen it happen. and as much as i hate life, i know that america needs me to lead them. so i try my hardest to keep that smile on my face knowing that one day when i do become president the first thing i will do will be to punish those customers with so high taxes that they actually will have to work and lift things and actually know what a bad back feels like. so hold tight the united states of america, i am smiling and working hard for you. i know you need me and i won't and can't give up. i won't kiss your babies though. that's a definite no no. |
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