Juicer Notes

Josh — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 11:36:38 +0000

Dont recommend the love potion to the sideways apes. When you know the way the complain you wont seem to get a sensation of trying to aim toward the watering hole. Again and again we take the winding road for advantages nay of advantage and forget to rewind, to please be kind and to speak your mind. I’m tired of the non-fireworks, of the not-box wine, of the silly bells chiming in my earphones and of the inablity to differentiate smells from anger and anger from love. Do NOT antagonize me for I am a purposeful man. If i did something wrong it was out of ignorance or laziness and you will not often find me 100% ignorant. Not to sound snooty or bigheaded, im just not dumb and you will find that often if you put your mind to it, you understand a lot more of the world that you assume you already (dont) know. It all comes down to think think thinking and if you arent think think thinking then you’re either a log or an evil pink robot trying to kick the ass of some sushi restaurant owner drowing in a pool of their own guilt for not running around the parking lot 10 times a day like their grandmother with that annoying ass little dog who actually didnt really bark much but still looked annoying because it was an “ankle-biter” breed and is assumed to be a pain in the ass (ankle). No matter, she was a nice woman. Even the borther (or cousin or whatever) who cam in that day to mee everyone because my boss sorta sucked at numbers i guess and went bankrupt. Well the brother (or cousin or whatever) came in and was super nice, despite the fact that he called me out on being fat because he even did that in probably the nicest manner of anyone who has ever mentioned me being overweight. Maybe it was just because the vietnamese actually know how to be polite and diplomatic in a micro-managerial situation or maybe he was just a nice guy. Either way, he came in and asked a bunch of shit about me and how my day was and after talking about a bunch of other random crap that was pleasant to discuss, he brough upthe fact that i was pretty overweight and that him being possibly the future owner and/or operator of the business he wanted to make sure to be observant of the welfare of all of his employees and well, i broke it down for him that i guess im just fat and that theres things i could do about it but im not and im not strugling in any way making it through a 13 hour day in a hot kitchen and keeping up with all the tinyass other veitnamese guys. not to sound derogatory, but vietnamese are pretty small folks. nothing good or bad about it, i just looked fucking funny in a lineup with my coworkers. well the brother (or cousin or whatever) mentioned that maybe i should try playing tennis or something, that tennis was great exercise and that, personally, he played tennis to stay fit. i mean this guy wasnt some randomass dude walking through your kitchen, he was one of those people who just wreaked of high-class. he was good-looking, in great shape, had a firm handshake, didnt mis speak. was not cocky at all but still incredibly self confident. his clothes, though reasonably casual were very nice and pressed. the clothes knew that they were being worn by someone with money. and i am to believe that he was, too, completely aware that his clothes knew this. His wife was the female-fancy-equivalent to him. drop-dead gorgeous, red dress, red lipstick. perfect har. perfect posture. didnt look like a whore. didnt speak. ya know… a rich man’s wife. She hook my hnd delicately, as i did hers, shaking her hand the way a ladies hand should be shaken, and (surprise surprise) she presented her and to be shaken in the manner in with a “lady” “should” present her hand to be shaken. it was all a somewhat claustrophobic experience, you see. Despite them being very pleasant folks, they were still pretty intimidating and they sorta filled up the somewhat tight space you have in a kitchen. I never saw them again. I left that restaurant soon after. I’ve been back a few times. They were happy to see me. Kelly was there each time, though she didnt recognize me without long hair and a long beard. Kelly was damn hot… i mean really. Kelly had an amazing body, an amazing smile, an unobtrusive laugh and did not at all seem complicated (beyond the normal complexities women seem to have). She was a great person to see almost every shift i had there. I even wrote a ska song about her ass one day when i was bored. When you’re stuck chopping things up and frying things and washing things for an entire day, sometimes there arent many more things to think of other than the waitress’s ass. Words from someone who normally wouldnt label themself as a “man” sorta man, that girl had one nice ass. Being a “man” btw doesnt seem to mean shit anymore. “Back then” a man was someone who would politely address a lady and would always hold the door for her and ask permission to kiss her and be very thoughtful of her… so on and so forth. Now, the qualifier for being a “man” is having a minimum number of semi-pornographic images taped to your wall and having a minimum number of “wins” under your belt by the time you leave college and being able to name at least 3 teams from each of the major sports who’re in the playoffs this year. Being a “man” means not showing your emotions to anyone, which i guess hasnt really changed now that i think about it. But me being expresive of my emotions sure as hell doesnt make me “a bitch” and if you think it does then say that to my face. Chances are, i wont do shit about it, but say it enough times, i will yell so loudly at you that you will piss your motherfucking calvin clines and will want only to go change yourself and skip the whole “trying to beat my ass” part. Seriously, when i get pissed, you want to stay away because i dont know what the fuck i will do. God help me if im ever pissed, around a gun, and around the person im pissed off about. I know i wouldnt shoot them. I know that for sure. But i know i *would* shoot *something*. Maybe shoot the floor beneath their feet and ‘make em dance’. I fancy thatd be the conclusive scenario. Maybe my anger can get a little out of hand. Thankfully ive practiced enough self controll and logic to never get in a fistfight with someone. To be honest, i dont enjoy getting punched in the face. I took a fastball to the face in the 3rd grade and if fucking sucked. I dont want that shit to happen again. But i know one of these days im gonna get out all of this pent up frustration and its gonna land someone in the emergency room. Hopefully it isnt myself. Hopefully it wont be a friend. Hopefully it wont be someone with a lot of money… or at least enough to sue me. I’m a great lier but apparently im not that great with lying to high points of authority. I guess im not a dumbass, and realize that if its my ass on the line, lying will 90% of the time lead to me not only getting fucked over but fucked over twice as hard because i lied. Bottom line, dont fuck with cops or judges or lawyers or anyone who has any sort of clout or high reputation anywhere becuse unless you can match their reputation on the same playing field… you’re fucked. Go tell a cop his budy is wrong… Go tell a judge that another judge isnt “fair”… Go tell someone from DSS/CPS that you’re actually a god parent and that your past is behind you and that its really your ex-wife who is fucking you hardcore because shes too drunk to recognize that shes really not sober… that shes been hooked on heroin and meth since she was in HS and has fucked up her life, her ex-husband’s life, her son’s life, her ex-husband’s new wife’s life and the life of her ex-husband and his new wife’s baby daughter. So much for that. Thats like trying to tell my selfishass little sister that they whole fucking world isnt about her. I know i wsnt the golden child. I know i was a bit of a pain in the ass like all kids were growing up. I dont dispute that. But i know i wasnt a completely self-centered, lazy hateful, whining, complaining, dumb-as-fucking-rocks stupid little bitch when i was a kid like she is. I didnt tell my dad that i hate him and that hes the worst dad in the whole world every fucking day and every fucking time that i didnt get what i wanted. If this little bitch werent so fucking dumb, she could read a book or something and realize that she could have ended up with a dad who rapes her every day and makes her eat moldyass bread and stale milk for dinner every night and makes her sleep on fucking cardboard inside of a drafty house with no heat and no AC and who buys her a pair of used shoes once every 2 years and dresses her in the shit rags left over from his 5 other illegitimate children left on his doorstep from the relationships he had with crack whores he slept with while his “wife” was pregnant with her. MAYBE my sister should be grateful that she gets pretty much whatever the fuck she wants in moderation and reason. MAYBE my sister should be grateful that her father has a nice fucking job that she lifes in a warm house and has nice clothes and shoes to wear, a consistently stocked kitchen and tv with videogames and a computer and OH DID I MENTION? her HORSE and the two others that her mother had before she died. The horses that she barely fucking pays attention to and barely fucking takes care of… those horses. On the subject of taking care of the horses. I guess it would be adding insult to injury if i mentioned she doesnt do a fucking thing to help out… just wank and bitch all the time. I know i wasnt the most helpful person when i was a kid but i was washing dishes and moving lawns and doing chores and shit when i was a lot younger than 10. Fucking seriously, she lives in the country… on “land”. Most kids her age around here are learning how to fucking plow fields and plant crops and shit and take care of livestock. We’re still having trouble getting her to feed the fucking cats. Enough about her. this started out as me getting random shit out of my head and has turned into me complaining about stuff i complain about for days on end to everyone anyway. Im gonna take a five minute break and then maybe ill be in the mood again to just shut the fuck up and talk.

Well that wasnt quite a five minute break. I’ve noticed that im really impatient… increasingly more so, anyway. I always have been. It seems a little wore these days, how someone will send me a txt message and i will send one back, wait 5 min until i get another txt from them then immediately send one back. maybe wait 10 or 15 and still dont hear from them and my subconscious feels like im being ignored. So then ill wait 5 minutes or so before responding to them after i get a response from the long pause. I wait, just so that it wont seem like im so eager to talk to them that im like, unnaturally ‘on the ball’. I remember a time if insane suspense was when i was pouring my heart out to someone via txt message and they were relatively busy and i was practically having a heart attack between each txt. I dont even want to get in to the only other time i felt like that. It was a pinful experience that i think about almost every day. It would sound incredibly emo of me to say how i really feel. I will anyway because thankfully no one will read this. Pretty much im constantly in pain, emotionally. Im rarely ever not hurting. I dont quite know what i could do about it. Drugs are nice, so is alcohol. That doesnt cut it though. It hurts so bad that all it does is kill my buzz. She will never ever know what she has done to me – how she has ruined me, as a man. It isn’t any of her business to care about me though. She doesn’t and it isnt her prerogative to care about me, nor her charge by any supernatural or theological force. My love for her is painfully undying and her ambivalence toward me is just as perpetual. She has always been someone who has always been so smothered by peoples’ love for her that she can easily and without personal fault, completely overlook how much someone is crushed by even just her presence, or the mention of her. Loving her is like loving a pop star; it seems i would have just as much of a chance with jessica alba or the queen of fucking england as i would with her. Never will i ever feel the same way about someone else as i do about her. Never will she not have ruined ever other girl in the world for me. Not until she finds some way to do me a horrible wrong will she stop being the eternal object of my affection. Alas… never will she love me, never will she know and never will i know how it feels to be loved by the one who has forever stolen my heart from soaking in the sun.

more like an animal

Juicer Notes