Boys will be boys, and girls have those eyes

Yesterday. After writing down the less than riveting morning, I went out an dplayed some 9 ball with Brandon. I beat him 4 out of 5 games. I'm getting much better, and would like to see my rank move up after beating someone this Thursday. We'll have to see how that goes, but right now I couldn't be more confident.

We got a pretty outstanding email from our "Ray of Sunshine" landlord last night. I sounds from the ton of his email that maybe we need to clean some things up. On the list of items are the following:

1) The basement smells like cat
2) There is something growing on our bathroom ceiling. I didn't know this.
3) Wipe down doors and entry ways
4) Clean the porch
5) Replace missing smoke detector

To hell with him. The basement, does in fact, smell like cat. There is a litter box down there. This will happen. Why we need to have a smoke detector in every room is totally beyond me, but it's his house, and if he wants a barrage of sirens, beeping, and a whirlwind of confusion as our house prepares to burn to the ground, it's his to want. I think having the landlord come over is akin to getting pulled over by a cop when you haven't done anything wrong, or heving the principal pass through your class room in high school. The impending feeling that you've done something wrong when you know you haven't. Paying to live in fear, it's kind of the opposite of having a job. Think about it.

Well, it's 8:12am, and unfortunately I don't get paid to write in this thing, I do however, get paid to close out receipts, return products to existing receipts, and make jokes and the expense of my coworkers... so I'm gonna get on top of that.

Mondays are probably my least favorite time of every weeek. It's a reminder that you're working to live and not living to work... or is it?

More and more skin keeps coming off of my finger every day, eventually I'm going to have enough dead skin collected to make a whole new me, and that me is totally going to be the one going to work, while I lay in a reclining chair in the back yard with a drink balanced on my stomach trying to attain my dream of being a bird. Having no arms will surely suck, but I look forward to the chance to crap all over the same person everyday for the rest of my bird-life.