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Whining And Complaining
This applies to EVERYONE: I started this thing to put down how I feel about things at a certain time. When I want to talk, but feel like I can't. It's really just that simple. If you don't like it, I'm sorry. I'm not out to make anyone feel like they're being put down. If you feel that way, there must be some truth in what I'm saying.
5/12/2004
Either there’s something in the water here, or Idaho has a consciousness and it’s making me dream. Normally my dreams are strange, and so was this one, but it was strange in the fact that there wasn’t any violence in it. At all. No sense of fear, anger, happiness…nothing.
First, I was working something of a flea market in a church basement. My booth sucked, as in I wasn’t busy the whole time simply because I really had nothing to sell. Other vendors came and visited me in my booth, having burgers and soda with me, telling me about how the promoter of the flea market was a bitch. I really didn’t think anything of it until she started taking things away from other vendor booths. Next thing I know I’m defending Garbage Pail Kid cards, telling everyone how vomiting is a form of free speech and not an offensive gesture, and hiding the bottle of ketchup I’m drinking out of.
I know. What the fuck?
In other news, I’m actually really looking forward to getting the new Transformers game. The commercial looks cool, and me being me, I’ll probably end up getting it while I’m on the road here in Idaho.
Mark is pissed at me now. I told him earlier that I didn’t want him closing with anyone, and he got mad, thinking that I was telling him that he wasn’t doing his job. In a way, I suppose I was, but at the same time I wanna try something different because we’re not getting the orders that we should be.
First, I was working something of a flea market in a church basement. My booth sucked, as in I wasn’t busy the whole time simply because I really had nothing to sell. Other vendors came and visited me in my booth, having burgers and soda with me, telling me about how the promoter of the flea market was a bitch. I really didn’t think anything of it until she started taking things away from other vendor booths. Next thing I know I’m defending Garbage Pail Kid cards, telling everyone how vomiting is a form of free speech and not an offensive gesture, and hiding the bottle of ketchup I’m drinking out of.
I know. What the fuck?
In other news, I’m actually really looking forward to getting the new Transformers game. The commercial looks cool, and me being me, I’ll probably end up getting it while I’m on the road here in Idaho.
Mark is pissed at me now. I told him earlier that I didn’t want him closing with anyone, and he got mad, thinking that I was telling him that he wasn’t doing his job. In a way, I suppose I was, but at the same time I wanna try something different because we’re not getting the orders that we should be.
