Streaming Pile of...

With no real desire to do anything for the last hour of work today, I sit down at the computer to post something to my blog. The problem is that even though I feel the desire to write, I don't know what to write about.

I suppose I could write about my weekend, but since my dad and I are the only people I know who were really excited about me going to a Weird Al concert, there doesn't seem to be much reason to write about that, now does there. Other than that, and the long drive there and back, my weekend was a lot like every other weekend. I made food. I watched DVDs. I washed dishes. I gave parts of the bathroom a scrub. I thought about vacuuming, but decided that I didn't want to push the piles of things around, so there was no vacuuming done.

And I break away from writing for a while. I copy and and paste all of the "Punks" stories that Queenie has written. A couple of weeks ago, I went through her entire blog to pull up all the "Punks" links so I could move them into a .txt file and save them for myself. I have another reason for saving the links, though, but I don't want to get into it now. Hopefully I'll be better able to explain in a couple of weeks. No promises, though. Sometimes, I like to pretend that one of the "Punks" stories was written more for me than just because Minnie wanted out of Queenie's head. Whether it was or not doesn't really matter, I just like to think that sometimes. The "Punks" are often frightening, but I love them all the same.

Now I'm at a loss again. I keep trying to think of something vital to write about, but, at the moment, I have no righteous indignation that needs to be freed. Okay, maybe I have some aimed at the Green Arrow/Black Canary wedding and more to say about John Stewart, but not now. Not here.

For a little while, I sit and think about Wednesday. See, I have another interview in Cowtown. This is my fourth, I think. The second one this month. I mostly just want to get away from this job and get somewhere that there's potential. The place in Cowtown is the only place that's given me an interview since I started on the whole I-want-the-fuck-out-of-here kick I've been on since April. I hope they get over whatever bullshit they have there and hire me. I need out.

I need out because the guy who sits across from me is a snitch. If someone doesn't hop out of his or her seat fast enough, he writes an e-mail to the lead clerk about it. If the mail isn't delivered early enough, he writes the PJ about it. If paychecks accidentally get delivered to the wrong office in this building, he writes to someone in the head office. He's doing this because his ability to work is being scrutinized. When he worked in a way out of the way part of the office, he ignored his work. He was way, way behind on everything. He tried to blame other people, but his work wasn't split between all the clerks and we weren't supposed to do the stuff that he was doing, so it wasn't our fault that when he went on family leave in April that we got piles of work from his desk that had been stamped in February. Now that he's out here with everyone else, the powers above want to make sure he's doing his work in a timely manner. He wants to get them off his back by telling them about the time I ignored a person at the counter because I was making boxes so I could clear shelf space for new files while he sat at his desk glancing between me and the person at the counter.

I also need out of here because a job that would be like a promotion has actually come up, but I can't apply for it. I can't apply for it because I would be working for one of the biggest asshole morons I've ever met in my life. It's incompetent people like this guy who make everyone assume people who work for the government are idiots who don't know how to do their job. I have enough problems knowing that I share the same air this guy breaths, I don't think I could handle him being my boss.

In between tapping out words, I started reading things on the Apple iPhone. It looks interesting. All touch screeny and stuff. It's going to be expensive, though. The only reason I'm interested is because after I move to where ever I end up being, I'm probably going to get a mobile phone and just keep that as my phone number for the rest of my life. It's what one of my brothers is doing. He got his phone when he was living in Santa Cruz and has kept that number through his move to Berkeley and Oakland, then to Baltimore, and now in Lima. I don't want a really fancy phone, but I'd like one that take good picture, since I don't have a digital camera either. I've already come up with some rules for how I'll use the phone because I don't want to turn into one of those people. You know the type. They're speaking with you and laughing with you, but when the phone rings they tell you to shut up and then wander off to talk to someone else only to come back to tell you that their sister's daughter was at a petting zoo and just touched a duck. Yeah, I don't want to be one of those people who look at their phone every minute to see if someone called or to see if they got an e-mail because, even when it isn't, it's like they just don't want to be around me or other people, just their damn phone.

Okay, work is soon to come to an end. Tonight, I watch my DVDs of The Office (American version), again. I don't know what's for dinner. I could say, "Beef, it's what's for dinner!" but I'd be lying. I don't have any beef at my apartment.