the result of dead time this morning: 1 hijacked kiddie cartoon from the Syracuse Post Standard + white out + 3 mutilated business cards + 1 bored car salesman = 1 cartoon only a salesman would find funny. it made it's way around the dealership with much fanfare.
-------
Grangela: i bet i can predict what you're writing in your blurf
Grangela: you're writing about work and complaining about it, and what you did this weekend, and how uneventful it was
bktscrambler: wrong
Grangela: yeah right
Grangela: liar
Grangela: then you're writing about your interesting fish that can jump through hoops and swim laps
Grangela: i mean there's not much more to choose from
bktscrambler: are you saying i have no life?
Grangela: hey you said it not me
Grangela: can you prove me wrong
nah, i guess i can't.
-------
today was pretty busy and stressful. between asshole customers and testy coworkers, i got a little buggered. but i did deliver a car and sold another (the runt of the litter, no less) so there will be some money coming in next week. but.. it feels like it's too little, too late. my credit cards scare me. it will take forever to pay them off, even if i get into the academy which pays 50k a year. it's definitely scary. and sooo frustrating. bringing home $170 a week with an ivy league diploma really blows. no luck with the latest resumes yet, either.
-------
at least i'm looking good, with my rembrandt 2-hour tooth whitener (a-freaking-mazing difference) and tan in a can (neutrogena instant bronze & sunless tanner.) no lectures, please--a little more credit debt to make me look dead sexy is okay.
-------
mark has been queer-eyed.* so have i. i've had the skills in my mind for years, but until Queer Eye was born, i've just never had the balls to put it all together in one package. i've never had the reassurance that my abilities at coordinating clothes and my optimal personal hygiene were queerworthy. but wait--i'm not that much of a metrosexual. and yes, i can still go home to the farm and slog around in the shit, work in the garage and get dirty, and burp and fart. i'm still a manly man. what can i say, i'm the best of both worlds. ladies, come get me. *burp* damn, i look good in these gap stress-free khakis--and this pink shirt. *fart*
-------
and now i'm a coffee drinker. i attribute this to the sheer boredom of standing around the showroom all day. the other factor is creamer. creamer is good. it transforms coffee from black piss to a pleasing, palatable, beige-colored drink. mmmm. i always assumed creamer was for limp-dicked, metrosexual types, and therefore, coffee was out of the question. my dad never uses creamer (which is my only other exposure to coffee--as a child), so i didn't consider trying it. but, i discovered how good it is one fateful morning while experimenting with the free coffee in the back of the showroom. it's so good i've burning my tongue on a daily basis in my gleeful eagerness to drink it. (how does the rest of the world avoid that?? it's so damn hot. no amount of sipping and blowing can save you when it first comes out of the pot.)
i would still feel insecure in a starbucks, though. i don't know to order that stuff. i'd get flustered and piss off the people waiting behind me.
-------
went to JP Mulligan's on saturday. sat on my ass and looked at pretty girls. with no wingman, i was not a threat. sheesh. at last call, guys were jumping on the last of the ladies like marines jumping on last chopper out of vietnam. i got left behind with the VC.
Grangela has me all figured out.
*i just coined that phrase. i take full credit for it. you'll see it in the next edition of webster's.
