adaidh

Holy shit!

I. Want. One.


www.tedbrewerviolins.com/violins/hades/index.php

So really, not much has been happening in my life.
Except, I'm turning twenty soon. How weird is that? Never to be a teenager again.

I'm okay with that, though actually. I'm ready to get on with it and do what I want with my life. It seems like my teens have been a blur of...not much. Not really what I wanted them to be, anyway. I spent the first three years in Devil's Ass, IA getting fat, and the next three years working, and finding out the real world is a little rougher than I thought.
It wasn't all boring, though. In a lot of ways, I think I would have handled a different life poorly. I did have a lot of fun, and I know that I have a much different perspective than my peers, which I hope will make me stand out positively in the future.

I also came up with somewhat of a basic plan for the next five years...maybe six.
First, I'm going to get a goddamn car (I cannot believe I haven't done that! Jesus..). I'm taking driver's ed this summer and getting my license. Then I save up for a junker car, and start driving. After that, I start college at metro. Once I get into the swing of that, I want to get a job at a better restaurant to kind of augment school. I'm guessing the next two or three years after that will be busy, so I'll just let life take its course, and try to hang on, saving as much money as I can. I might move closer to school, but I dunno. After graduation, I want to get into to best restaurant I can, and stay there long enough to have a good background, and also to  - again - save as much money as I can...for a trip to Ireland. Since I was about ten, I've wanted to go to Ireland for like a month, and just...explore. Go backpacking and such.

After that, I can't see too far. I've been taught by life never to make plans more than a month ahead of time and expect them to come true. I'm not even sure how much of any of this will happen, but I'm tired of just sort of living day to day. I have a plan.

Some days stupid people really annoy the piss out of me. Other days, they make me laugh.

I was working at the drive-thru window today at Culver's. I had one particularly clever fellow come through and ask me "Yeah, uh...your 'Culver's Deluxe Double'. Is that a double?".
I had to stop myself from saying things like "No, sir. It's a small child from India. Angelina didn't want him, so we're trying to get the little fella adopted"



Also, a while back, I walked into the middle of a conversation between Fearless Leader and another manager. It went something like this:

"...So then she tasted it, and liked it"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She said it tasted like Thousand Island"


I walked away.

I had an adventure today. I enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the well-deserved way that all my friends made fun of me. 

What happened?
Well, I was, for various reasons, home all alone today. That was fine. I got a few things done...took a nap...made lunch...watched TV...checked my email...played a couple computer games...made dinner...watched more TV...then I got really bored.
It was around this time that I noticed  a) that the sides of my mofohawk (as it was described by my mom) were getting pretty long, and b) that I happened to have a little-used electric razor thingy just sitting in the bathroom. I thought  "Hey, why should I pay someone to trim the hair on he sides of my head, when I have this thing? I can do that myself. I mean, my hair is about beard length, and I use this to trim my beard.  A + B = my hair being cut for free, right?"

Yeah.

I'm sure you can see the lack of light at the end of this tunnel. After much labored buzzing, I end up all striped, and snaggled. Only on the right side of my hair, though, where the damned electric thigy decided to just....stop cutting. Not that it would have done me much good if it HAD soldiered on. I had officially fucked my hair up. But only part of it, which added to the overall "special 'lympics chic" look I was now sporting. Yay.

So, in a mild panic, I remember that being home alone also implies being carless.
In a slightly less mild panic, I start texting any of my friends who might have a few minutes to give me a lift to a barber, salon, dude with some scissors, whatever. It turns out that all my friends have more important things to do on a weeknight than to bail my ass out. That's cool. I figure I really don't deserve it. I mean really...fuck, the last person I knew to try cutting thier own hair was my older brother........when he was like 4.

Long story short, I have a merciful reminder from somewhere in the back of my mind that there's a salon by where I wrok, and it's within walking distance. So, I go there....pay $20 to have a pretty damned understanding lady fix me, and then I walk home with much shorter hair than I've ever had.


So I'm an idiot, but at least I learned my lesson, right...?

I work at a fast food place called Culvers.
Basically I like my job. As much as anyone can, anyway. It's not my life-long dream to take orders and flip burgers my whole life, but i have a good job considering where I am in life. Sometimes, though, work is simply mind-numbing...for many reasons. Anger, stress, monotony, ect among them.
Then, there's those rare moments when you're busy hating your job that someone comes along and brightens your day even if they don't mean to.

Favorite moment at work #1-

One day I was working the lunch rush in the kitchen. I was in charge of the big, mean, hot, annoying grill. Our boss, the owner of the store, was working right next to me wrapping food up so it could be delivered to customers.
Well, on this day, one of the sandwiches I was working on wasn't cooking according to Fearless Leader's liking. He kept looking at me impatiently and asking how long it would take before I was done with the sandwich. Eventually he kicked me off of the grill station for a minute, assuming he could take over for me and do better with the infadel food item. He didn't. After fifteen minutes - I shit you not - Fearless Leader was pissed. I look over, and the man is sweating, and obviously angry. Then suddenly I hear him mutter under his breath "Come on you fucking cocksucker piece of shit!". At first I was a little scared. For many reasons, this is not a man I want next to me when he's that mad. Then it occurs to me that he's talking to food. My boss has just strung together one of the most interestingly vulgar insults I've ever heard, and directed it at an inanimate food object.

Suddenly my day was brighter.