jena

I'm a little surprised someone hasn't pitched a fit over your current profile pic.

Not that -I- mind it, you understand.

It's still a hardcore image. I don't really know why people would worry about seeing that sort of thing on a site that's NSFW to begin with, but I know people have in the past.

Such is the world of baseball loyalties.

I do want to read the book but working 3rd shift can make it hard getting out to book stores. But hopefully that will be changing here soon enough and I'll be on 2nd shift.

DRAT!!! I want my own puppy. Everybody else has super cute puppies that I want one of my own.

Do as you please : )

It's a sexy angle, is what you mean!

Good for you!

The little things can be immensely nice.

Thanks...glad you liked the gif. Was the birthday splendid?

Oh no! You didn't!


Can you help waskanuaurld!!

If I ever see Kip again, I'm going to have him record a serenade for you.

I feel guilty about not leaving some little tome for a response.

Interesting...I could see him in that role. Hope it doesn't get into his head too much.

One of the many summers I groced we had a large display of watermelon right up front by the registers. I was working register 5 and my neighbor was register 6, the 12 items or fewer (we made it a point to get that grammatically correct) line. Having a giant display of anything next to the express checkout isn't the greatest idea because people become distracted and forget why they got into that line in the first place, but having a display of something that must be carefully scrutinized is even worse.
Watermelons, in the eyes of most shoppers, require a high level of knocking, hefting, sniffing, and prodding to ensure proper selection. Over the years I had adopted a rather blase, almost hostile attitude towards this manhandling of the product, and when greeted with the inevitable "Is this ripe?" my answer was as follows: "Is it in the store? When was the last time you bought an under ripe watermelon? They don't pick them until they're ready to sell."
Not everyone enjoyed this blunt approach to my perceived truth about watermelon farming, but in truth I had never seen an under ripe watermelon in my many years of both consuming and selling said produce.
Regardless, not all of my coworkers had the tenure, expertise, and general "fuck it" attitude I had come to adopt towards this and many other inane customer questions. On this particular summer's day, a mid-thirties mom-type with no kids present and the sort of tousled, who gives a shit look about her that marked her as a classic "time eater" decided to ask my relatively new and guileless coworker manning the express lane if the particular melon she had painstakingly chosen was ripe enough.
"I don't know," said my black-clad, 'only doing this shit for the summer,' coworker. She then turned to a young black mother who happened to be nearby checking her own watermelon for freshness. "What do you think, is it ripe?"
I remember immediately flinching a bit and thinking, this is not good.
Of course, the woman immediately launched into all the old tropes about watermelon, race, and so on. My coworker (who's defense was she was asking a mother and not a race) stood in the path of the barrage and I could see that this moment was one of her last on the job.
I relearned an important lesson that day. Don't be a fucking idiot.

Some hair comes, some hair goes. Such is aging.

Enjoy and indulge. I'm actually on a mini-break myself.

Refrain, please, as I've used up about all the jealousy I have left in me for those sorts of people as of late. Any more stories of them and I may have to hunt one down and assume their identity.

You should peruse my new journal to its full extent when you have the time. I hoped to make it a bit more entertaining than my massive text updates.

Oh shit, I hate that. It's a singular sort of foul mood when that happens. My condolences on your lost creativity. I always try to console myself that there is a reason it's gone. It rarely works, but still.

I think if I had a sign about my ass it would have to be the kind of 'caution wide load' signs where separate vehicles had to precede and follow behind me everywhere.

K, light sport-drinking and sex, you've got me sold.

Its no waste too me. I owe you a package anyway. its been too long. Ill send you one to your new address . I have a funny toy for you anyway thats been sitting around forever.