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5:09 p.m. - 2005-12-15
But not as far as effin steve effed off.
Sassafras.

Effin Steve got banned from the casino due to his germ spreading ways. He hasnít been back for weeks. Iím hoping that he found another casino that is more phlegm-friendly, and that his absence is not because he desperately needed a lung transplant but alienated everyone who may have given him one. And is dead. Poor, poor effin.

They moved me to morning shift. I donít like it. Graveyard had me excused for my sleeping the day away ways, but now I have hours of daylight to make myself useful during, and that, my friends, is a hell of a thing. Plus all of my favorite floor bosses and dealers and nocturnal customers have been replaced with different, bitchier floor bosses, dealers of disposition yet to be determined, and, sadly, many of the same customers who donít ever sleep it seems.

Iím moving out of the ol partment. Itís prolly for the best all around.

One of my favorite authors described the pain of losing of someone in your life as a festering tooth, one that doesnít hurt all the time, but aches dully. The ache fades as time goes on, but every once in a while you feel the sharp pain when you bite down on something hard, like a seed. Remembering them is that seed. I still find myself hurting way more than I should every now and then. I wish I could just pull the thing. Iíd yank that fucking rotten tooth with rusty pliers without Novocain all by myself in the reflection of a hubcap if I could, but I fear itís with me for a while longer yet.

Iíll try to think up some funny stuff for next time. Until then, eff off.

 

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