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8:35 p.m. - 2001-12-29
Brains and Creme Brulee splattered on the asphalt.

I just did a loopty motherfucking loop on the roller coaster of ridiculousness.

Man, it seems like you're upside down forever on that mug.

Anyway, I have realized that the ultimate way to measure the "coolness" of a person is not by their clothes or their car. It's not by the company keep or the clubs they go to. It's not by the underground music they listen to, or even, suprizingly, by the iced out platinum jewelry they've copped.

Jay walking.

That's how you tell. The coolest motherfuckers in the city are the ones who will walk down the side walk right through all the law abiding squares waiting for the little red hand to turn into the little green guy, and just step off the curb without breaking stride leaving everyone else in that "should I, or shouldn't I?" limbo as they gaze down the trafficless street.

They don't let no damn electric bulbs boss them around.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't endorse any breaking of the law by anyone (unless the end result is me feeling all light headed and happy) but we all know that it's true.

Cool people disregard authority.

So tonight I went to work feeling very un-jaywalkerly. I had an awful night filled with drama that I don't care to rehash. I still had a touch of the ol' bubonic flu. And I was going to work as I previously mentioned.

On the side of good was the fact that Jane located her disc-man that we both believed I had gotten ripped off out of her car through my door lock negligence, thus saving me $150.00 that I don't have.

Yipee! We're victims of our own disorganization, not heartless Xmas eve thieves.

Now pay attention here because it gets complicated as the good and evil forces of the job site battle it out in a struggle to dominate my mood as if it were the "power crystal of eternal light" or something.

I get dressed up in my servant gear. Clock in. Go and double check the schedule to see if I'm the wine bar baboon or main service bar chimp this evening, only to find that I am scheduled to work on one sheet, but not written in on the other. I won't explain the system any further, just trust me that it was fucked.

So I find the manager and he tells me he fucked up and that I came in for nothing because he can't use me. Booooo.

Boo but also yay because like I said, I still gots a hint of the flu. Then he tells me that since I clocked in and out right away I instantly get paid for three hours.

This is good obviously. Then the other manager invites me to eat dinner in the restaurant on the house. Very good indeed.

So the end result is I got paid for three hours of work to eat grilled Ahi tuna with a glass of wine, followed by eggnog crème brulee, and topped off with a cappuccino.

I left there feeling like I had just had a massage.

I felt so good in fact, I almost got my ass killed crossing on a red.


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