Time passed

So, I haven't written anything in over 3 months. Or something like that. Those past three months have come close to being some of the most interesting months for me in recent memory. All of my old posts were about my old stupid job, that subsequently took a huge toll on my life and most of the people around me. As of last month, I finally grew a pair and got a new job. So, instead of dealing with ornary annoying people at overnight hours, I deal with them over the phone durring the day, where they can't actually do anything about their threats of killing or injuring me. I now work in the wonderful world of collections. I still haven't decided which group makes me more sick. The drunks, or the people that don't understand that when you borrow money, you have to pay it back. I don't work normal collections, I work pre-legal. So if I call you and you don't come up with the money, people are going to come and take your car, your house, or any other assets that they can sell to get their money back. It's not a nice place to be. Trust me. But at least this job offers health insurance and I have an almost normal schedule. That I can live with for now. I know I won't be doing this forever, but for now, it's paying the bills and helping me get my head a little bit farther above water than it was before. Other than that, life has been looking all sorts of up. Since I was booted from Relevant, I have been offered a ton more opportunities to play music, and even have a say in what I'm playing, not used to that at all. It sure is nice though. That being said, now I can pick and choose when and where I can play and still have time to myself to do what I want. Like what I was able to do last weekend.
I've been meaning to talk with Amanda's mother for quite some time, and last weekend, we finally worked out a trip home. Friday we left mid-afternoon and drove to Utica. Amanda's mom lives out in the country, on the top of a hill, so we had a great view, and a whole weekend to just relax. No one bothering us, no one calling to see if we can arrange something, just a whole weekend of doing the same thing we do in Buffalo when we have time off. Sit around, eat junk food, watch movies, and usually sleep whole days away, but this time we were a couple hundred miles away. And that couple hundred miles makes all the difference. Finally, we got to go to church, and weren't expected to do anything. I almost didn't know how to deal with it, other than the fact that we're going to try and do it more often as long as our schedules allow for it. If they don't, we'll make them. I never had an idea of what it would be like to go out to stay with someones parent for a weekend. But, I liked it. Enough to go back for more. Best part is, it seems like mom approves, which makes me feel 100% better.
Honestly, this is the first time that everything is really starting to come together, the future is starting to look good, and I'm not anxious for it, but at the same time I'm not afraid of it. I'm excited to see what is going to happen, and more importantly, when it's going to happen. I've always waited for everything to fall apart, but now it's doing the opposite. And I couldn't be happier. Unless someone just gave me $50,000. Then at least I could pay everything off now. But oh well. Just gonna have to keep looking forward to it.

Interesting is an understatment

So, for the first time, in a long time, things started looking up. Everything at work was going really well, I haven't fired anyone in awhile, haven't been in a fight with customers in quite a long time. But, I'm only allowed to have a certain amount of peace in my life. I topped out and needed to be reset to zero apparently.

Enter Friday night.
It's a little busy at work, and I had someone call off already due to a tummy ache. Great excuse for a 23 year old. After that, someone else decided they were just coming in an hour late. Whatever. No big deal. Then he notices that he has new shoes on. I told him that he should change them, otherwise they'd get ruined. So he leaves. Punched him out of the register. And then 3 hours pass. I called someone else in, and we were fine on people for the rest of the night. 3:30 am the kid comes back. He's disoriented and trying to get my managers card so he can get change for the $50 he has. I was a little concerned and didn't want him touching the drawer. So I went up there and asked him for the 50. He didn't have it. He said he would get it from his car. Came back. No cash. Then he just asked for $20 straight out of the drawer. I told him that wasn't going to happen. Then he asked me for cash, and everyone else that was working. Still no. I walked away from him. Then he started following me around, "Yo, Anth, come for a ride with me. I'll go pick you up some bud or something. Just come for a ride man"

Wow. At that point, the fact that he was severely cracked out hit me. I knew, I just didn't want to believe it. So I threw him out of the store.

At the end of the night, when I counted all the money, we were short $100. I thought I did a deposit wrong, or something like that. Because that kid wasn't anywhere near the drawer. I didn't let him near it.

So I called the district guy, and let him know, that we should fire Rob, because he's coming in on crack again, and that $100 was probably in a deposit. Well he checked it, and the 100 was gone. So he told me he'd call back in awhile.

He watched the video of Rob punching in. He took my managers card and opened the drawer. Grabbed a $100 bill, then put it back, and took out 5 $20 bills. Sneaky bastard. So they said they were just going to take his check for reimbursement. Then, Shawn, my good boss also told me they were setting up a sting to arrest him. That didn't work, so they just sent a couple cops over to his house to arrest him. Pretty sure he's in jail now. And the owner is personally pressing charges and filing a restraining order against him.

Awesome.
I really don't know what else to say about this story. Kinda sucks cause I lost a good worker. Oh well. Guess that means people shouldn't do crack.

This is why I hate holidays...

Ok, so, I don't really hate the holidays. Not too much at least. But, for the most part, I've gotten more considerate and passive about my disdain for this oh so special time of the year.

I love shopping. For me. I don't like shopping for other people. I just don't. It's not spending money that bothers me. It's the fact that every year I seem to be followed around malls by crazy old ladies. Because, since this week I haven't slept more than 15 hours combined, I figured I may as well zombie walk through the malls looking for retarded things that only come around once a year. Why does anyone need a Santa Claus shot glass set? Oh, that's right. So they can get through the season totally smashed all the time. Kinda like that time in high school...

This is a story told second hand. I was actually not involved. I was at the other side of the parking lot smoking a bowl at the time this happened.

Step back 2 years.

Because, he could get away with it, my friends Steve and Mike decided they were going to be festive. Every morning before school for the month of December. All the way until Christmas.
How did they do this you ask?
A liquoralender. That's how. Remember those little calendars that every day you got a piece of chocolate, or a little toy or piece of candy in? Johnny Walker came out with one of those too.
A piece of chocolate filled with black or red depending on the day. Or perhaps it was just random. I'm not sure. But, really, one shot worth of booze? What's that going to do for anyone? So Steve also managed to keep a martini set in his car. 2 cups, and a shaker. Other paraphernalia also included... Christmas. At the high school level. Boozing at 7 in the morning. Because they could get away with it. Because it was still dark out. And we paid off a school employee. I would like to state that J.B. is still employed there. In case anyone cares to try that again.

That is a prime example, of how holidays should actually be handled.

I would also like to propose a new policy.

More than just the season itself, I hate the songs. I can not listen to Christmas music. I have the same argument with my mother every year about this. I get angry every time I hear Christmas music. This is not over reacting. At least for myself, this would keep the holidays moving faster. I would like to suggest that every time a Christmas song plays a shot of booze should be consumed. This DOES NOT apply to radio stations that only play Christmas music until New Years. I will not be responsible for alcohol poisoning again. If I'm out shopping, or walking around and happen to hear a carol, because I usually tune them out, I will write down on a tally sheet the respective number of said songs I hear in a day. Then, either before, or after work, (TBD) I will take the appropriate number of shots of whiskey. I will be taking a sign up for peoples commitments to the Holiday boozing campaign. Or hey, if you just wanna drink, and not count songs, that's cool too. Someone else has more songs racked up, that they shouldn't drink for.

So, since I've migrated far enough away from my original point on this post, as much as the holidays bother me. I believe I've found a way to cope. And this way is almost legal. It's about 8 months un-legal. Close enough for me.

You have cancer, surprise!

As I drove home from some store a couple nights ago, when I was actually having a decent day I saw an advertisement on the side of a bus that said; "You have prostate cancer. Go to Roswell Park."

Interesting. I didn't know that. I missed that memo. Hear that mom? I have prostate cancer. I'm just gonna skedaddle over to R.P. real quick, get that all checked out, yeah, I'll get milk on the way home too. Shouldn't be too bad, right? I mean its not like I wanted to keep it a secret or anything. What better way to freak the hell out of people than letting them stare at a big purple death bus at 4 in the morning. "Hi, good morning world! I'm a goofy purple bus, and I'm here to ruin your day, or maybe week, or maybe even your life!"

My personal issue with this is as follows;

Can you do that? Can you buy advertising telling people that they have a terminal illness and to go to where you rape dying people for money?

Yeah sure, clearly other stupid things like, you're going to hell, or Bush sucks can be plastered all over something. But what about terminal illness that could simply throw someone into a suicidal spiral. Then consider this scenario.

Said person sees bus. Looses their sanity. And then is committed to a mental institution because they are utterly convinced that they have cancer. And they have to get to Roswell Park. Could that person sue Roswell Park for all of the medical bills they acquired whilst being "insane" and also collect mental and emotional damages?

If, that is possible in any capacity, like $500 or more in payments, I would like everyone to know that I will be shortly declared insane. I'll be staying at the "happy house" for a few months. Then, I'll be filthy rich. And no. I see absolutely no moral problem with this at all. Stealing money from the health care tycoons is not a legal issue. Not in my eyes. And I'm insane. Remember?

I hate...

So tonight being as slow as it was, I had some time to nitpick customers again. And, once again, it came down to the same two groups of people. One is the group of people that I would like to diagnose with "Fatitude" and the second, are people that missed the memo of what race they are. Each will be have a new one ripped separately.

Fatitude.
Thank you Tom Rafferty for the creation, or at least bringing of my attention to this word. People with fatitude aren't always necessarily fat. It's a mental condition. The fact that this hookerish looking woman, with at least a quarter inch of makeup on got pissed at me because I was out of taco meat, and she had to be charged for extra cheese is out of my control I suppose. Listen, being fat is a job. A constant up keep of your own fat ass. If you want to stay fat, you have to make some adjustments. That extra cheese costing you a whopping Thirty Five cents isn't all that bad. It's a small price to keep that pants size rising you PMSing fat slob. And secondly, food takes time to cook believe it or not. Just because you're used to throwing slop in the microwave and bathing in it, which would explain the quarter pound of makeup, doesn't mean that I can do the same thing. You're paying me to make you a heart attack, remember? Third, the only person allowed to bitch about anything in my store, is me. And chances are I'm probably bitching about how you should go to a gym because you seriously, do not need to be eating something that would kill a small animal or child, at 4:30 in the morning. Go eat a salad. The economy is bad. And you're still getting charged the same price for all that extra fabric that you need to cover your fat ass. At least you're wearing clothes. If you weren't I would have to close the place down, not because you're not wearing clothes, but because the whole place would be covered in the explosive vomit that I would be spewing everywhere.
Simply disgusting.

Group #2 the "I don't know what race I am" assholes.

Apparently the fact that you grew up in a privileged home, with disposable income means nothing to you. Your parents gave you money, and you spent it turning yourself into what would seem to be a "gangster". Minus the fact that you're suburban average white Joe. I would like to state that this is in no way racist. But I would like to point out a few major demographic and socioeconomic points to prove that, and give a better view on this to anyone who may not know where I'm coming from. Buffalo has the highest black male un-employment percentage in the United States, or at least this is what recent social graphs have shown. 51%. 51% of Black males in the city of Buffalo, NY are currently un-employed. I do what I can. If you aren't a moron I'll hire you. I don't really care who you are. Based upon that fact, people that do not work, do not usually live in the nicest parts of town. They live where it is cheep, and that they can afford on whatever income they do have. Regardless of race, orientation, ethnicity or social background. Hell, there are more white people in the Tonawanda projects than any other race. Back to the point. People in the city, specifically the group that I have mentioned statistics about, dress a certain way. Rap and Hip hop have always been dominated by the black culture. And, just like every other movement and musical progression, white people have tried to steal it. Face it. People in the city have a right to make music about being shot at, arrested, killing people and whatever other crap may have come up. This once again, is directly connected to socioeconomic status. NOT RACE. If the music that is based upon your culture, wears and dresses a certain way, the way to fit in, and not get yourself killed, is to do the same thing. It's not a social separation, but it is. It's not a bad thing, but when you start forgetting that you did not go through the things that people in different circumstances have, and you're trying to steal their culture, there is a problem. I would absolutely love to take a carload of these race jumpers downtown. Not the nice part. The part where my father told me to be out of by sunset. No questions. Sunset, you're gone. I don't care if you're on a church trip. Because the people down there sure as hell don't. That's what I was told. By my father. Who used to live down there. On that street. Unfortunately, I know that I would last longer in that kind of neighborhood, than all of the kids who think they're the shit because they have a G-Unit shirt on. Listen dumb ass, you're going to get mugged for that shirt because everyone down there knows you're not going to be able to do anything about it. If nothing else, an odd looking white kid wearing a black dress coat, with leather gloves, and who isn't trying to be something he's not, has a much better chance to make it out in one piece than you. Dumb ass.

On top of that which ran through my mind in about 5 seconds when this group of douchetards came in, the black guy that works with me started laughing at them And, essentially reiterated what I was already thinking. Yep, white suburban kids, can't deal with the fact that they're white. Must be a shame. Or a compensation issue. Chances are it's number two. Kind of like that line in Shrek, when Shrek and donkey walk up to the castle. Shrek simply says, "Do you think he's compensating for something?"

Yes Shrek. Yes I do. Clearly, there is some kind of issue. Of which, I feel no need to discuss here in depth. Cause, hey, if you're intelligent enough to know what I mean when I use "big words" like socioeconomic status, then, you're ahead of this moronic curve anyways.

Stupid race jumpers. They're so useless. Hopefully that jump is over a very deep hole, or pit, or well, or cliff, or traintracks or something that would make it a much better jump. For me at least. Last but not least, they drove a camero. They half assed the car too? At least get a Cadillac or some goofy SUV that you know you can't afford to put gas in anyways. Allowance isn't that much, I suppose.

Hell. That's been a long time coming. Feels nice to get all that out.

I'm doing this meme because I disregarded the other one.

Line 5, page 56 of: Sir Elton

"in Soho and now had a virtual monopoly of white blues and soul acts, from Georgie Fame and Alan Price to Chris Farlowe and P.J. Probe. As well as the flamingo, they ran the Bag o' Nails

There you go Jon

Tamed? Really?

So today I was rather abruptly informed that I have been tamed. I fought it, I tried to find ways around it. Nothing. Its kind of nerve racking. I mean, I can't even legally buy my own booze. It's clearly not to say that I haven't, I mean my friends dad owns a liquor store. So, you know. And the fact that I know most of the people that own the bars, and work at them doesn't help one bit. I suppose the fact that I should've died by the time most kids were buying lottery tickets and porn for the first time is a bit of a side story. But that's not the point here.

This is the point. I'm ok with that. I really don't have a problem with it. I've had my adventures, I've had my ridiculous nights. I've done stuff that people only hear in the worst cases at a free clinic at a hospital in a bad neighborhood on the east side. I think it's about time that I chill out a little bit. Or just all the way. Maybe not all the way yet. I'm still 20. As much as I thought I wanted to fight it, I really didn't. It's just one more thing that's happening at the right time. It's not even one of those epic stories, like a wild horse being put in captivity. It's more like, that horse has been relocated. Not held captive, but given a chance at something new and better. That other side of the land, that he wanted to see if he could get to, he's gotten to. And he likes it. More importantly, he's not going back.

There's a couple things I plan on hanging on to. Right now I'm endulging in some lovely Prog Metal and Industrial music. That isn't going to change, as long as I can help it. But the nights of me waking up and having no idea how I got home, and whos shoes I'm wearing, have gone kaputz. And it's alright. Even though I've always been mistaken for being older, now it's time to actually put that into action. I'm growing up. And I'm not doing it alone. Which makes it so much better.