Tuesday February 9, 2010

Same routine, the one that's getting very old very fucking quickly. I get up at 9:30, shower, throw on clothes, and head out to work for my 11:00 shift. I won't even go into details about today's mishaps at work because, frankly, shit's all been said and done before. It's all the same shit, different day. People come in for a cup of coffee, or some specialty drink that they pay way too much for. Some are pleasant, some seem like they have a stick in their ass. Some are intelligent enough to read a big-ass menu right in front of them, some need you to spell out the motherfucker for them. Some people order hot chocolate, something that you can make at home just as easily and without spending close to $4. Some people can't wrap their minds around the fact that "Mocha" is just a fancy word for "chocolate", even after you break it down and explain it to them like they're half a tard. The list of vilification goes on and on and continues to grow as each day passes. So there, I have just painted a pretty vivid portrait of what it's like to deal with the colossal hand-jobs of human beings that visit Caribou Coffee, or any shop for that matter.

Needless to say, work is shit for the entire duration of my shift. There is a little light at the end of the tunnel, however, when Litwicki texts me in the middle of work and says he has an extra ticket for the Bulls game tomorrow night. Seeing this as a chance to finally get out and have some fun this week, I seize the opportunity. I convince Jill to take my closing shift tomorrow night in exchange for her opening shift. The rest of the day is shitty and I leave around 6:15. On my way home, I shoot a call over to my cousin's boyfriend, Tim, who does a lot of mechanic work on cars. My break pads have been wearing dangerously thin over the past few weeks and are making this horrendous scraping sound every time I break. My dad put me in touch with him after they talked at a family get together and he offered to do the job. We settle on next Monday and I tell him I'll keep in touch until then just in case something changes.

I gun it home and head upstairs to be greeted by Tool and V, who are just about to watch the Hawks game. Hart cruises over not too long after I get home. Originally we were gonna watch Zombieland tonight, but since the main TV has already been claimed for the hockey game, we opt to do it another night. A little later, I get a text from Justin asking if he and Mary can cruise by for a bit. They do and we dive head-first into the leftover beers from Super Bowl Sunday.

Mary is freaking out the whole night because of an essay she has to write for a scholarship. It's a fairly simple topic, basically asking the question, "How does being yourself, as opposed to being someone you're not, benefit you in the workplace, school, personal life, etc." She continues to preach that she's just not a good writer and cannot put her words into writing easily. Soon enough, we literally have the entire place offering her advice on how to write this paper in a way that will make it sound like she's god's gift to earth, which is pretty much what you have to write in this kind of an essay. She continues to freak out and, frankly, I get a little annoyed with it. I love Mary to death, and it's clearly evident in previous entries. Next to Justin, she's like my best friend, even though it's partially by default because she's dating my best friend. But, either way, I would never tell Mary to go fuck herself unless she really deserved it. She didn't deserve to be told to fuck off by any means, but I did kind of get a little snippy with her when I explained that no matter how bad of a writer she thinks she is, the fact of the matter is that she needs to write this essay in order to get the scholarship. Bitching and moaning about it isn't going to get it done. She takes my advice, kind of, and calms down a little bit, or at least stops vocalizing her disdain for writing an essay. Either way, the night gets a little better and Justin and I sit down and map out an outline of topics and ideas for her to expand on.

Mary eventually gets enough of an outline that she decides to put away her computer and enjoy the rest of the night. We all sip on some more brews while we check out some funny shit on the internet, such as typing in the words, "Why won't my..." into the Google search bar just to see what Google comes up with for the ending. The results put us in tears, as it's fucked up shit like "Why won't my girlfriend swallow?" or "why won't my wife get a job?" or "why can't I poop?". We all have some good laughs over the extremely odd subject matter. Justin and Mary cruise around 1:00 AM and I decide to turn it in a little early tonight. I do the nightly routine and then proceed to pass out in the comforts of my bed while watching Vegas Vacation.