Cum Bucket

i want to get a haircut like this but i am really bad at having haircuts.

i think that the best thing about swedish fish candy is the “swedish” sign stamped on each fish so that you know it’s authentic and not that bootleg swedish fish shit that kids are passing around these days. because, you know, that’s really important.

if i were more ambitious at work, i’d ask to do more office work instead of just answering and dispatching calls. my new responsibilities would include filing and sorting bill, papers, keeping tabs on our customers; faxing; photocoping stuff. more physical office work. these would be far better and more useful experiences to put on my resume. i would, no doubt, be able to get a higher paying job—more specifically, one of the office state jobs that i keep getting canvassed for.

but life sucks because i am not ambitious and i don’t want more responsibilities at work because I HATE MY JOB and i want as little to do with that office as possible. every task that i take initiative to not do aides me in being more sane.

in fact, to even be allowed to do the office work that would eventually propel me into a state job [with health insurance (dental, eye, everything), $8 000-$10 000 more a year, vacation time, every major national holiday off, etc.] i would have to brown-nose. of the 30-something telephone operators that are in the office on a daily basis, 3 get to do “office work.”

so this really sucks. i have the opportunity to get more office experience but not really.

so shall i wuss out? or continue to complain? no, the answer is clearly drugs.

the solution is obviously to start taking adderall, or an adderall-hydrocodone mix. this will lead to overconfidence, chatter, wanting to work, feeling jubilant out of my flippin mind and of course—taking an interest in everything. i am going to do so much office work and so well. i’m going to be like a rat running on a wheel.

i sort of hate that i’m one of those people who can work a completely miserable job and be completely miserable. this last paragraph was actually going somewhere but i forget because i’m tired…..

last night i had a dream about the greatest indian buffet experience in albany. the place was called m.habeeb’s and my friend was dying to go there so she ran ahead of me and me and another person had to chase after her. once we got there and walked in, the inside of the restaurant was like a palace and had three huge rooms one had to go through before finally reaching the room with the buffet. each of the three rooms was enormous and sort of looked like the inside of cafe paradisio and had patterned persian rugs that stretched almost from wall to wall and classic indian/old victorian sofas with people passed out on them, curled up, unmoving, eyes still open. the people were passed out from smoking opium and i could stand over them for minutes and they wouldn’t even look up, it was eerie but awesome and i got super excited at the prospect of real, obtainable opium in albany. the three rooms leading up to the buffet were opium dens essentially. then the buffet room was served by normal waitstaff and one of the waitstaff, who was a lady[the other person was a man, prince-like], warned me, in a very non-direct way, about the possibility of somebody raping me while i was passed out on opium or otherwise touching me and how i shouldn’t do it to others either. she said something like, “must not touch person who can not say if he/she want be touched.” i took it to mean, “feel free to ask us for some opium.” but didn’t. the buffet table was small and there was only one long table that everybody had to sit at, surrounded by the enormous open space that was left in the rest of the room. i never actually got to taste the food because then something else started happening in my dream.