Thursday January 22, 2009

My day off. Morning from hell. 7:45 AM. That bastard Chet wakes me up. I open my eyes and the unholy hangover sets in. I throw Chet off the bed and go back to sleep… forever.

Finally wake up a little after 10:00. I get up, contemplate suicide (I don’t do well with hangovers), take a piss, and stroll back into my room to hit up my personal stash of Advil and water for times like these. That’s when I realize that my Advil doesn’t exist anymore. Not only that, but I’m out of smokes as well. Fuck my life.

I also take notice that the time is only ten after ten, so McDonalds is still rocking breakfast for the next twenty minutes, enough incentive for me to drag my ass downstairs to the car and bomb over to the fast food empire, which also happens to be a gas station. I can enjoy a bacon egg and cheese bagel, pick up more Advil and smokes, and get coffee. It seems almost too good to be true. Oh, it was. It most certainly fucking was.

I get down to the parking lot and go to start my car, only to find out that my battery took another shit. Luckily, I am parked right next to my brother’s car, so I can jump it within ten minutes. I get everything set for the big event and, in the process, manage to smack my head on the open hood of my car, adding considerably more “ache” to my headache. Fuck my life.

After getting the car started, I gun it over to McDonalds. It’s now 10:27. Breakfast ends at 10:30. Motherfucker. I turn in the parking lot on two wheels and almost take out a few cars in front of me. I fly into the drive-thru and my mouth instantly starts watering as I stare down the breakfast menu. The chick comes on the speaker and informs me that they can only accept cash at the moment. I check my pockets. Five bucks, right on. I throw out my order, and before I can even finish, the bitch tells me breakfast is over. Fuck my life.

I take off out of the parking lot, forgetting about my smokes and Advil. I am now two steps shy of going on a mass killing spree. I bomb over to the closest Dunkin’ Donuts and order myself up a medium black coffee and their own bacon egg and cheese bagel, which doesn’t compare to that of McDonalds, but fuck it, I’m hungry and don’t care at this point. I pay for everything and take off. I drop by the closest gas station, clean my windshield (I’m out of cleaning fluid), pick up some Advil and smokes. My morning is starting to look a little brighter.

I get home only to realize that I left my condo keys in the house and Tool isn’t home. Fuck my life. I call him up and he tells me that he went to get his oil changed and won’t be home for another half hour. I decide to go visit my old friends at the Caribou Coffee in Darien, where I used to work before transferring to the Bolingbrook store. I sit in there and bullshit with my old coworkers Melanie and Jim, as well as an old regular customer, Al. I fill them in on my life, update them on the status of mine and Dave T.’s film, bitch about work, etc. I pimp out of there after about a half hour or so and cruise home.

V and Tool let me in and they take off to pick up smoothies at Jamba Juice. I tell them to pick me up one. I sit down in the office to check my e-mail and update the diary while jamming to Sam Cooke’s greatest hits CD that I downloaded last night with V.

After a few hours of doing what is expected of me on my day off, nothing, I give my brother a lift to pick up his car. The place is in Naperville so it takes us a good fifteen minutes to get there, all of which were spent playing every bad song that I have on my Zune out of pure nostalgic value. We hit all the classics like Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up,” a few Culture Club songs, and even “Heat of the Moment” from Asia. Needless to say, it was an interesting car ride. I drop Tool off at the shop and gun it back home to finish the rest of my day of rest.

The next few hours are filled with even more internet and T.V. surfing until I decide that it’s time to feed myself, which sucks because I’m fucking hungry as hell and the only food we have is food that requires preparation and a wait time of at least a half hour. I settle on some gourmet Hamburger Helper until I notice that we don’t have any fucking ground beef (not surprising for our house). Pissed off that we never have two things that go together, I jump in the car for the third time today (which is three more than I had intended) and I cruise over to Dominick’s to pick up some ground beef. There’s six more dollars that shouldn’t have had to be spent today.

Once at home, I throw on my Pandora radio station and start playing Martha Stewart. After a half hour of slaving over a hot stove and fighting with Chet who kept jumping on the counter and disrupting the flow, I finally was able to sit down to a somewhat gourmet hot meal (gourmet by my standards, which should give you an idea of where my cooking abilities begin and end). I chill out and watch old re-runs of Seinfeld as I inhale almost the entire pot of food. I look at the clock. 6:30 PM. New episode of The Office doesn’t start until 8:00, so now I have an hour and a half to kill. I grow tired of staring at the T.V., so I shoot Stin a text to see if he’s working at the restaurant. After receiving the confirmation that he is indeed working, I get in the car for my fourth (and last) trip out.

I have a few beers, rock a smoke with Stin, and read the paper for a bit before returning home to meet V and Hart and watch The Office. We bomb inside and throw it on just as it starts. After the show, we do some more channel surfing until they decide to leave around 10:30 or so. I decide to call it a night not too long after they leave.

I brush my teeth and set my alarm. Work at 10:00 AM tomorrow as opposed to the usual 11:00 AM. I crash while watching more of Batman Begins.