Sunday, October 12, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
the unbearable automaticity of being awesome
ah, the simple pleasures in life. the horrible person i deal with everyday called in sick today. i rejoiced. and then i was given a fulfilling task. not a bad day at work. told some dude the sky was falling.
last night as i sat home alone working on the painting, the door swung open, and my landlord stood in the hallway. i greeted him, while making a quick mental checklist of possible afronts that might bring him into the place without warning. the music was pretty low volume, the rent had been paid, the laundry room door had been locked... what the hell?
"what's goin' on there, brian?" i asked over my shoulder, still perched on the back of a dining room chair. he stood there staring at me blankly. then he walked over to me and began rubbing my back with his right hand. he was smiling. i had a smile on my face, but my armpits began to itch terribly. and then i smelled it: the sweet stench of booze.
"i got drunk." he slurred, with a whimsical influx on the word 'drunk'.
"sweet dude." i replied, cautiously slinking away from his over-affectionate fondle paw. needless to say this shit was AAWWWKWAARD! i mean, this guy is my landlord, and in over a year we've exchanged but a few words, usually regarding noise, kicking bremmer out, and other landlord/tenant business.
he ambled around the place for a few minutes, muttering things like "let's have fun" and "i don't know" and "i got drunk". he stood in the kitchen for a few minutes. i offered him a cigarette, even though i know he don't smoke none. but shit, what else am i gonna do, right?
eventually he left, falling on the stairs a bit. as i slunk down the stairs to re-lock the door, i chuckled, seeing as he has a fucking key so what's the difference...
so that happened. i wonder what he'll have to say for himself today. if his shame is great enough, i'm going to ask him if i can borrow fifty bucks.
last night as i sat home alone working on the painting, the door swung open, and my landlord stood in the hallway. i greeted him, while making a quick mental checklist of possible afronts that might bring him into the place without warning. the music was pretty low volume, the rent had been paid, the laundry room door had been locked... what the hell?
"what's goin' on there, brian?" i asked over my shoulder, still perched on the back of a dining room chair. he stood there staring at me blankly. then he walked over to me and began rubbing my back with his right hand. he was smiling. i had a smile on my face, but my armpits began to itch terribly. and then i smelled it: the sweet stench of booze.
"i got drunk." he slurred, with a whimsical influx on the word 'drunk'.
"sweet dude." i replied, cautiously slinking away from his over-affectionate fondle paw. needless to say this shit was AAWWWKWAARD! i mean, this guy is my landlord, and in over a year we've exchanged but a few words, usually regarding noise, kicking bremmer out, and other landlord/tenant business.
he ambled around the place for a few minutes, muttering things like "let's have fun" and "i don't know" and "i got drunk". he stood in the kitchen for a few minutes. i offered him a cigarette, even though i know he don't smoke none. but shit, what else am i gonna do, right?
eventually he left, falling on the stairs a bit. as i slunk down the stairs to re-lock the door, i chuckled, seeing as he has a fucking key so what's the difference...
so that happened. i wonder what he'll have to say for himself today. if his shame is great enough, i'm going to ask him if i can borrow fifty bucks.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
ok maybe only just the one thing
it's cold out now, and no more moped.
i'm broke, and no more booze.
i've had it with these stupid women, too.
i hate my job.
i want old people to fall down.
i want young people to shut up.
i just got roped in to drawing about 75 album covers for a friend whose music i'm relatively indifferent to. i think it'll be good practice, though. the mulligans painting has sat unfinished for a while, and i am feeling good about finishing it this week. the thing is fuckin' huge. 4x4, nugga. i'm signed up for this sort asinine art contest involving pabst blue ribbon. all submissions become property of the brewery, and i think maybe you can win... uh... beer?
i'm broke, and no more booze.
i've had it with these stupid women, too.
i hate my job.
i want old people to fall down.
i want young people to shut up.
i just got roped in to drawing about 75 album covers for a friend whose music i'm relatively indifferent to. i think it'll be good practice, though. the mulligans painting has sat unfinished for a while, and i am feeling good about finishing it this week. the thing is fuckin' huge. 4x4, nugga. i'm signed up for this sort asinine art contest involving pabst blue ribbon. all submissions become property of the brewery, and i think maybe you can win... uh... beer?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
