In taking the easiest route possible to start off with (and eliminating the need to really write an entire book on my own with limited time and resources), I have come up with a premise and a large amount of content to edit and add to.
My book, which I started this afternoon, is called Cash Register Hell Exposed: The Life and Times of a Cash Register Jockey.
If anyone out there is interested in giving me some sort of book deal and/or advance, based on this premise, I'm all ears. As of right now I have 386 posts in this blog, with roughly 75% of them associated with my job, and probably half of those will be amusing enough to be included in the book. Right now I'm looking at about 100 pages of solid book material that's already written. Add 50 pages to that, roughly, to flesh out some of the stories and edit some others in that I never wrote about here on the site, and I already have around 150 pages of content to work with.
And really, it's not like weirdos and crackheads will suddenly stop coming to shop/steal at Cash Register Hell, so I don't see any lack of new material in the near future. Especially if I pepper in some stuff from my other Cash Register Jockeying job back east as well.
Thoughts?
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
A Purpose is Needed
I have decided that, after much speculation and brainstorming over the past few weeks (especially during my vacation week) that I need a purpose in life.
Some, especially the girlfriend, might take offense to this, saying I already have a purpose -- or several purposes -- in life; one of them is her, another is my job and paying the bills, yet another is taking care of the cats and being a good father to them. All of which are valid points, to be sure. But, and I'm casting all narcissism aside here and getting down to brass tacks, I don't want my life to be defined by taking care of my girlfriend or "getting by" financially, or even by my feline parenting skills. I want something to define my life on my own terms, a purpose aside from the norm to keep getting up for every morning, a purpose that will let me look at myself and say "hey, I'm doing something constructive with my life."
It is this reason amongst several others that I have decided to take the time, make the time, and actually start my serious writing again.
Some of you might find this revelation anticlimactic, as I've always been a writer, or you've always known me as a writer. The truth is that aside from here, in this blog, I haven't done any true, real professional writing in quite some time. I haven't fully completed a short story or nonfiction piece in three years, since I was writing for a website called PartyCampus.com (which is now defunct). I had a regular column there for a while. I also worked for a newspaper back east, and had two rather lengthy articles published -- one which took up an entire section of the paper.
Neither gig, really, I could call my serious writing. They were too tightly-constructed, too formatted, too written-for-print and written for approval. Journalistic writing. I've never been a journalist, I've always been a creative writer. I don't write my serious stuff for the approval of anyone but myself.
The girlfriend finds my attitude on this rather arrogant, in the sense that I hated writers' workshops when I was in college, because when I was done with a piece, I didn't want critiques on it -- I was done with it. And whether you like it or not, I still expect you to praise it and buy it and give me money for it. I'm very unwavering on this in my professional works. If you read it and you don't "get it," well, obviously you're too stupid to do so and/or you're not my intended audience. But I still want recognition for it. For me, all my workshop classes in college did was prove to me how stupid the general populace is. Oh, and along with that, they also proved to me that some people in college still do not know how to spell, tell a story, put a sentence together, or use basic grammar.
Anyway, I have gotten off-track. I have decided to return to my real writing, though in what fashion I'm not sure. I have many, many ideas for books, short stories, and screenplays. And, really, I've wasted so many hours of time at home either sleeping, playing video games, listening to podcasts, doing chores, or generally just dicking around. If I would've started a book a year ago today instead of this blog, I would probably be done with it by now. Probably. When I get the urge, the motivation to write, I can do it for hours on end without stopping. The bad thing is that, as of late, I've been getting the urge at the most inopportune times, such as when I'm at work, when I can't just sit down for a few hours and write.
The only thing stopping me is fatigue. I certainly don't want to write in the morning when I come home from work. I want to get something to eat, drink a beer, and go to bed -- generally because more often than not I have to work that night and I have to be able to get up in order to do so. I could do it in the evenings before I have to go to work, but that's usually the only time I get with the girlfriend.
Like Max did in his days and weeks after leaving Cash Register Hell, I've been doing a lot of soul searching. I need to find time and inspiration to write, and I'm going to have a lot of trouble with that while I'm working at Cash Register Hell. In everything there must be a balance -- I must get enough sleep, I must get enough time with the girlfriend and the cats, and I must be able to keep a job that can support all of us. I've also decided that a career change is probably in order -- not a large one, mind you, because I'll only live in this town for ten more months -- but at least something with a different schedule. Something where I'm not working every day, something where I'm not on night shifts anymore. Going to work for the sister store that's only open until 11PM, where Big Bossman is the manager, is looking better and better every day. On Saturday (the next day I'm off) I'm going to go down there and see if I can talk to Big Bossman for a while. I would still be in a grocery store, mind you, but I'd be in one half the size of Cash Register Hell with much, much better hours. And I would only have to do it for a few months at probably the same pay rate (at least, I would imagine).
I'll let you know how it goes, of course, on all fronts. I do know I just got a raise at Cash Register Hell (not that anyone told me, I just noticed my paychecks were getting bigger and divided my hours worked by my pay rate), so I doubt that the sister store would be able to match it, but anything within a dollar or so I'll sacrifice to get out of Cash Register Hell, especially if it means I'll be able to get some more time to myself and with the girlfriend.
Some, especially the girlfriend, might take offense to this, saying I already have a purpose -- or several purposes -- in life; one of them is her, another is my job and paying the bills, yet another is taking care of the cats and being a good father to them. All of which are valid points, to be sure. But, and I'm casting all narcissism aside here and getting down to brass tacks, I don't want my life to be defined by taking care of my girlfriend or "getting by" financially, or even by my feline parenting skills. I want something to define my life on my own terms, a purpose aside from the norm to keep getting up for every morning, a purpose that will let me look at myself and say "hey, I'm doing something constructive with my life."
It is this reason amongst several others that I have decided to take the time, make the time, and actually start my serious writing again.
Some of you might find this revelation anticlimactic, as I've always been a writer, or you've always known me as a writer. The truth is that aside from here, in this blog, I haven't done any true, real professional writing in quite some time. I haven't fully completed a short story or nonfiction piece in three years, since I was writing for a website called PartyCampus.com (which is now defunct). I had a regular column there for a while. I also worked for a newspaper back east, and had two rather lengthy articles published -- one which took up an entire section of the paper.
Neither gig, really, I could call my serious writing. They were too tightly-constructed, too formatted, too written-for-print and written for approval. Journalistic writing. I've never been a journalist, I've always been a creative writer. I don't write my serious stuff for the approval of anyone but myself.
The girlfriend finds my attitude on this rather arrogant, in the sense that I hated writers' workshops when I was in college, because when I was done with a piece, I didn't want critiques on it -- I was done with it. And whether you like it or not, I still expect you to praise it and buy it and give me money for it. I'm very unwavering on this in my professional works. If you read it and you don't "get it," well, obviously you're too stupid to do so and/or you're not my intended audience. But I still want recognition for it. For me, all my workshop classes in college did was prove to me how stupid the general populace is. Oh, and along with that, they also proved to me that some people in college still do not know how to spell, tell a story, put a sentence together, or use basic grammar.
Anyway, I have gotten off-track. I have decided to return to my real writing, though in what fashion I'm not sure. I have many, many ideas for books, short stories, and screenplays. And, really, I've wasted so many hours of time at home either sleeping, playing video games, listening to podcasts, doing chores, or generally just dicking around. If I would've started a book a year ago today instead of this blog, I would probably be done with it by now. Probably. When I get the urge, the motivation to write, I can do it for hours on end without stopping. The bad thing is that, as of late, I've been getting the urge at the most inopportune times, such as when I'm at work, when I can't just sit down for a few hours and write.
The only thing stopping me is fatigue. I certainly don't want to write in the morning when I come home from work. I want to get something to eat, drink a beer, and go to bed -- generally because more often than not I have to work that night and I have to be able to get up in order to do so. I could do it in the evenings before I have to go to work, but that's usually the only time I get with the girlfriend.
Like Max did in his days and weeks after leaving Cash Register Hell, I've been doing a lot of soul searching. I need to find time and inspiration to write, and I'm going to have a lot of trouble with that while I'm working at Cash Register Hell. In everything there must be a balance -- I must get enough sleep, I must get enough time with the girlfriend and the cats, and I must be able to keep a job that can support all of us. I've also decided that a career change is probably in order -- not a large one, mind you, because I'll only live in this town for ten more months -- but at least something with a different schedule. Something where I'm not working every day, something where I'm not on night shifts anymore. Going to work for the sister store that's only open until 11PM, where Big Bossman is the manager, is looking better and better every day. On Saturday (the next day I'm off) I'm going to go down there and see if I can talk to Big Bossman for a while. I would still be in a grocery store, mind you, but I'd be in one half the size of Cash Register Hell with much, much better hours. And I would only have to do it for a few months at probably the same pay rate (at least, I would imagine).
I'll let you know how it goes, of course, on all fronts. I do know I just got a raise at Cash Register Hell (not that anyone told me, I just noticed my paychecks were getting bigger and divided my hours worked by my pay rate), so I doubt that the sister store would be able to match it, but anything within a dollar or so I'll sacrifice to get out of Cash Register Hell, especially if it means I'll be able to get some more time to myself and with the girlfriend.
One Year
Today this blog is one year old, and has 385 posts (including this one).
This post serves as a much appreciated thank you, from your humble CRJ to my loyal readers and friends.
As a celebration of a full year blogging here, and in case you are a new reader, here's a link to my very first post in this blog. Enjoy.
This post serves as a much appreciated thank you, from your humble CRJ to my loyal readers and friends.
As a celebration of a full year blogging here, and in case you are a new reader, here's a link to my very first post in this blog. Enjoy.
Monday, August 18, 2008
In Which I Didn't Miss That Much, Really
I returned to work last night, once more with little fanfare. Turns out that I didn't miss that much while I was away. The world continued to turn, sales continued onward, prices continued to rise, and nobody quit or was fired. A relief to be sure, but on some level it affects my self-worth a tiny bit that the place didn't collapse in on itself while I was away.
Then again, the experts say to never make yourself irreplaceable, or you'll never get a promotion. Not that I really have to worry about that much anyhow.
Apparently, though, a few interesting things did happen while I was away:
1. Frizz, while in charge, had a drunk kid climb over the locked alcohol gate and into the liquor aisle at 3AM to get a 30-pack of beer. When he realized he couldn't get back over the gate with the beer, Frizz kept him locked in and called the cops on him -- but first made him put the beer back before she unlocked it and let him out upon the squad car's arrival. This I truly wish I could have seen in person, instead of just being told about it.
2. Another night with Frizz in charge, a white-trash couple came to the store via taxi, bought $100 worth of groceries and tried to write a check with $10 cash back to pay the cab driver. The check bounced, they had seventeen bounced checks from that account, and with no money to pay him, the cab driver called the cops on them. The cops came, ran the couple's IDs, and found out that the woman had multiple warrants for forgery. According to Frizz, they cuffed her and sat her down on the outside wall for processing. She escaped from the cuffs and took off running and the cops had to tackle and taze her redneck ass, with her kicking and screaming the whole time, before they could take her in. This is another one of those instances that I would have absolutely loved to have seen in person.
3. Bro, Butch's brother who works with us now, decided that one night, after work, he wanted to tool around the parking lot on his motorcycle -- which has expired tags and no insurance -- without a helmet and with obscenely loud pipes. He was promptly pulled over in our own store parking lot by two police cars who had just happened to be driving by at the time. This one I actually got to see the video evidence of, as Bruno sent me the video he took with his cell phone. Surprisingly enough, the cops were just bored and thought it amusing, and let Bro off with a warning and nothing more. Mind-boggling.
So yeah, that's about all I missed. No word yet on the sale or buyout deal involving our store -- in fact, everyone in charge has remained obscenely quiet about it. And, since last night was a truck night and there weren't any actual managers there in charge upon my arrival, I didn't get a chance to ask any real questions to anyone but Cat and Elder, who knew nothing new.
Oh, and yes, I got many questions about whether or not I pulled off the speedo scheme.
Then again, the experts say to never make yourself irreplaceable, or you'll never get a promotion. Not that I really have to worry about that much anyhow.
Apparently, though, a few interesting things did happen while I was away:
1. Frizz, while in charge, had a drunk kid climb over the locked alcohol gate and into the liquor aisle at 3AM to get a 30-pack of beer. When he realized he couldn't get back over the gate with the beer, Frizz kept him locked in and called the cops on him -- but first made him put the beer back before she unlocked it and let him out upon the squad car's arrival. This I truly wish I could have seen in person, instead of just being told about it.
2. Another night with Frizz in charge, a white-trash couple came to the store via taxi, bought $100 worth of groceries and tried to write a check with $10 cash back to pay the cab driver. The check bounced, they had seventeen bounced checks from that account, and with no money to pay him, the cab driver called the cops on them. The cops came, ran the couple's IDs, and found out that the woman had multiple warrants for forgery. According to Frizz, they cuffed her and sat her down on the outside wall for processing. She escaped from the cuffs and took off running and the cops had to tackle and taze her redneck ass, with her kicking and screaming the whole time, before they could take her in. This is another one of those instances that I would have absolutely loved to have seen in person.
3. Bro, Butch's brother who works with us now, decided that one night, after work, he wanted to tool around the parking lot on his motorcycle -- which has expired tags and no insurance -- without a helmet and with obscenely loud pipes. He was promptly pulled over in our own store parking lot by two police cars who had just happened to be driving by at the time. This one I actually got to see the video evidence of, as Bruno sent me the video he took with his cell phone. Surprisingly enough, the cops were just bored and thought it amusing, and let Bro off with a warning and nothing more. Mind-boggling.
So yeah, that's about all I missed. No word yet on the sale or buyout deal involving our store -- in fact, everyone in charge has remained obscenely quiet about it. And, since last night was a truck night and there weren't any actual managers there in charge upon my arrival, I didn't get a chance to ask any real questions to anyone but Cat and Elder, who knew nothing new.
Oh, and yes, I got many questions about whether or not I pulled off the speedo scheme.
Fierce and Nerdy
I have added a new link to my sidebar for a website called Fierce and Nerdy, a blogzine that's going to start publication on August 25th and already has a few notable names attached to it -- including one of my literary idols (and former professor) Clark Perry, whose clarkblog I have been a reader of for several years and also link to on my sidebar.
This site seems right up my alley and, if possible, I'm going to try to write for it in the near future.
If said site's administrators allow me to, of course.
This site seems right up my alley and, if possible, I'm going to try to write for it in the near future.
If said site's administrators allow me to, of course.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
In Which I Return to Work Tonight
So, in about three and a half hours, my vacation ends. Truthfully, it was just long enough. Not too short, but not dragging on too long with nothing to do.
I am at a disadvantage, though. I return to work not knowing about anything that's happened amongst the night crew for the past week. I don't know if Hammer is still working with us (though he is on the schedule, I checked), don't know if the store's been bought and sold, don't know anyone else's schedules other than my own -- which, regrettably, seems to be Monday and Saturday off this week.
Dammit.
Look, I don't really mind this, at least not for this week, because I was rather expecting it. I will, however, be leaving a note saying that I want my Thursday-Friday schedule back ASAP. I don't understand why this isn't possible. Elder and Jarhead, the only two people on nights who have been working there longer than I have, have certain days where they can't work, and thus they are never scheduled on those days. I tell IC the same, that there are certain days I can't work, and I have the schedule for one week and then get the shaft when I return from vacation.
Like I said, this week it's not a problem. I'm returning to work refreshed and reset, and it means I at least get tomorrow off after working the truck tonight, and I get another Saturday night off. So yeah, really, it's not that much of a problem for me right now. And if for some reason I'm forced to keep this schedule for a few weeks (though, by all rights, I shouldn't be), I don't really care. No, they're not two days in a row, but at least they're close enough to each other where it will feel like a bit of a "weekend."
The girlfriend got her new work schedule for the rest of the summer, too. She's going to be working 10AM-6PM for at least another week, and will probably still work some when she's back in school after that -- however, I'm not really sure how much that will be, if any.
She spend the afternoon looking at graduate schools. Shockingly enough, she found on that offers her chosen degree that's actually located in our state. However, it's in an incredibly bad part of the state crime-and-gang-wise, and it's not like I can get a good job with my own degree (otherwise this blog wouldn't exist) so we'd more than likely be living in the ghetto. And I do not want to live in this crime-ridden city anyhow. It might become a divisive issue between us in the near future, if this is the school she wants to attend. I would rather move to the countryside of Montana or the redneck-infested Arkansas -- two of her other possible locations.
Oh, and she still hasn't taken her GREs or her other exams required for grad school. We have less than ten months left in this town and in this apartment. In fact, in exactly a year, wherever she ends up wanting to go to grad school, she'll be starting either this week or next week this time next year. Meanwhile, our lease expires June 30th, so wherever she wants to go, everything has to be settled by then or otherwise we'll be spending another month-and-a-half without jobs and living with her parents...again. I say "again" because I did this for the first month-and-a-half I lived here in the midwest. Believe me, it wasn't incredibly fun, especially without being able to smoke indoors and without computer and internet access.
I secretly worry that we'll end up in this situation again, which is why I try to write here as often as possible to hone my chops, and why I collect CDs upon CDs full of podcasts to listen to in my free time -- sometimes I won't listen to a particular CD until it's been more than a month since I downloaded and burned it. This is because I download and burn them in chronological and numerical order, and it generally takes a few days to listen to a 700MB CD.
Really, I can't do anything about looking for work in our new destination until we have a destination finalized. I'm not going to start looking for jobs in random college towns and say, "Hey, I found a job here I could do, and there's a college in this town," etc. Like I said, everything's in flux. Everything is up in the air, and a year from now I could literally be anywhere in the United States that the girlfriend finds a school.
Despite all this, I'm relatively calm and collected. I'm a go-with-the-flow guy. Wherever she wants to go to school, as long as her application is accepted there and we can actually afford to live in said town, I don't care. It could be Arkansas or Montana, or it could be Pittsburgh, Ohio, or Maryland, to cite a few examples of schools she's looked at. It will be a new start, a fresh change of pace, and possibly another state I can say I've lived in. As long as I can support us and we can live semi-comfortably (and not get shot at), I don't mind.
I asked her, by the way, if there are any schools she was interested in within daily driving distance of the Lake house. There aren't, not unless one or both of us want to drive 150+ miles a day. Seeing as her car is ten years old, that would probably be a bad idea after the first few months. Besides, the gas alone would kill us.
Anyway, yes, I go back to work tonight and then get another night off. I'm not necessarily looking forward to working tonight, but at least it will give me something to do and get paid while doing it. Knowing my luck, though, I'll have to end up dealing with every asshole in the tri-city area who wants to go shopping for stupid shit on a Sunday night. I've also been awake since 2PM -- on purpose -- so that I can come home in the morning, eat, and go directly to bed so that I can actually be awake part of my night off tomorrow...not that I have much to do around the house. It will at least allow me to spend some time with the girlfriend after she gets home from work.
I will be sure, of course, to update you on any big happenings at work that went on either while I was gone, or go on tonight upon my return.
I am at a disadvantage, though. I return to work not knowing about anything that's happened amongst the night crew for the past week. I don't know if Hammer is still working with us (though he is on the schedule, I checked), don't know if the store's been bought and sold, don't know anyone else's schedules other than my own -- which, regrettably, seems to be Monday and Saturday off this week.
Dammit.
Look, I don't really mind this, at least not for this week, because I was rather expecting it. I will, however, be leaving a note saying that I want my Thursday-Friday schedule back ASAP. I don't understand why this isn't possible. Elder and Jarhead, the only two people on nights who have been working there longer than I have, have certain days where they can't work, and thus they are never scheduled on those days. I tell IC the same, that there are certain days I can't work, and I have the schedule for one week and then get the shaft when I return from vacation.
Like I said, this week it's not a problem. I'm returning to work refreshed and reset, and it means I at least get tomorrow off after working the truck tonight, and I get another Saturday night off. So yeah, really, it's not that much of a problem for me right now. And if for some reason I'm forced to keep this schedule for a few weeks (though, by all rights, I shouldn't be), I don't really care. No, they're not two days in a row, but at least they're close enough to each other where it will feel like a bit of a "weekend."
The girlfriend got her new work schedule for the rest of the summer, too. She's going to be working 10AM-6PM for at least another week, and will probably still work some when she's back in school after that -- however, I'm not really sure how much that will be, if any.
She spend the afternoon looking at graduate schools. Shockingly enough, she found on that offers her chosen degree that's actually located in our state. However, it's in an incredibly bad part of the state crime-and-gang-wise, and it's not like I can get a good job with my own degree (otherwise this blog wouldn't exist) so we'd more than likely be living in the ghetto. And I do not want to live in this crime-ridden city anyhow. It might become a divisive issue between us in the near future, if this is the school she wants to attend. I would rather move to the countryside of Montana or the redneck-infested Arkansas -- two of her other possible locations.
Oh, and she still hasn't taken her GREs or her other exams required for grad school. We have less than ten months left in this town and in this apartment. In fact, in exactly a year, wherever she ends up wanting to go to grad school, she'll be starting either this week or next week this time next year. Meanwhile, our lease expires June 30th, so wherever she wants to go, everything has to be settled by then or otherwise we'll be spending another month-and-a-half without jobs and living with her parents...again. I say "again" because I did this for the first month-and-a-half I lived here in the midwest. Believe me, it wasn't incredibly fun, especially without being able to smoke indoors and without computer and internet access.
I secretly worry that we'll end up in this situation again, which is why I try to write here as often as possible to hone my chops, and why I collect CDs upon CDs full of podcasts to listen to in my free time -- sometimes I won't listen to a particular CD until it's been more than a month since I downloaded and burned it. This is because I download and burn them in chronological and numerical order, and it generally takes a few days to listen to a 700MB CD.
Really, I can't do anything about looking for work in our new destination until we have a destination finalized. I'm not going to start looking for jobs in random college towns and say, "Hey, I found a job here I could do, and there's a college in this town," etc. Like I said, everything's in flux. Everything is up in the air, and a year from now I could literally be anywhere in the United States that the girlfriend finds a school.
Despite all this, I'm relatively calm and collected. I'm a go-with-the-flow guy. Wherever she wants to go to school, as long as her application is accepted there and we can actually afford to live in said town, I don't care. It could be Arkansas or Montana, or it could be Pittsburgh, Ohio, or Maryland, to cite a few examples of schools she's looked at. It will be a new start, a fresh change of pace, and possibly another state I can say I've lived in. As long as I can support us and we can live semi-comfortably (and not get shot at), I don't mind.
I asked her, by the way, if there are any schools she was interested in within daily driving distance of the Lake house. There aren't, not unless one or both of us want to drive 150+ miles a day. Seeing as her car is ten years old, that would probably be a bad idea after the first few months. Besides, the gas alone would kill us.
Anyway, yes, I go back to work tonight and then get another night off. I'm not necessarily looking forward to working tonight, but at least it will give me something to do and get paid while doing it. Knowing my luck, though, I'll have to end up dealing with every asshole in the tri-city area who wants to go shopping for stupid shit on a Sunday night. I've also been awake since 2PM -- on purpose -- so that I can come home in the morning, eat, and go directly to bed so that I can actually be awake part of my night off tomorrow...not that I have much to do around the house. It will at least allow me to spend some time with the girlfriend after she gets home from work.
I will be sure, of course, to update you on any big happenings at work that went on either while I was gone, or go on tonight upon my return.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
The Secret Speedo Scheme of Summer Vacation
I've been meaning to write about this for a few days since I got back home, but kept putting it off (mainly because I forgot about it while on vacation). In the several weeks leading up to my vacation, I came up with a nefarious, devilish scheme. I dubbed it, in my mind, the secret speedo scheme. And this is the story of how I had planned it.
Now, even by a few weeks ago, I had already purchased a good 95% of my vacation attire. I'd bought my straw cowboy hat, a beach towel and new swim trunks, my wifebeater A-shirts (which I wore for most of my week of vacation; I took four of them with me), and my lake-faring swimshoes. I had also purchased dark tanning lotion, as previously mentioned, but I wouldn't really count that as "attire" except that in a sense, it is worn. My point is that to the girlfriend, anyhow, my vacation expenses were complete.
However, to me, they weren't. I needed one last, small addition to complete my ensemble.
At work, I asked Jarhead, "When was the last time you were at [the lake]?"
"Last summer sometime, why?"
"Do they have beach shops there? Like, swimsuit places you can buy sunglasses, trunks, etc in?"
"Yeah, there's a ton of them."
Gooooood, I thought.
"...do they sell speedos?"
Jarhead gave me possibly the weirdest look I've ever seen on his face. "You...you want...a speedo?" he asked, trying really hard not to laugh.
"I want a bright pink speedo," I said. "Neon highlighter pink."
"What, to match your phone?"
"Fuck you," I said, continuing. "No, here's the plan. You see, I've already bought all my other beach stuff for the lake. I want to go to one of these shops, act like I'm buying a beach towel, and when the girlfriend's not looking, wrap a speedo up inside the beach towel and purchase it without her seeing I've bought it."
"...okay..." Jarhead seemed at a loss.
"Once I have it," I said, "I'm going to put it on under my swim trunks. And then we're going to go outside to tan. And once I go out to tan, I'm going to deftly put down my towel, strip off the trunks while in the girlfriend's presence, and lay outside -- in the sun with her -- in this pink speedo. In public."
"...why do you want to do this?"
"Because it will terrorize my girlfriend," I replied. "It will drive her nuts! And driving [the girlfriend] nuts is what keeps me going!"
Not necessarily true, but I figured that if I could pull the plan off it would certainly be amusing, if not extremely embarrassing, for the girlfriend. I myself couldn't care less what I look like in a speedo. Or if other people see me in one. Or if the girlfriend freaks out because she's being seen in public with a fat white guy in his speedo. All part of the fun.
I told all the night crew about this frightening scheme, all of whom had the rather disturbing mental image of me in a pink speedo burned into their brains for all eternity. I did this on purpose. Apparently, while I was on vacation, the story of this speedo scheme spread throughout the store, including members of management, but I'll get to that in a while.
So we packed everything and headed to the lake. We stopped at a Wal-Mart along the way, the closest Wal-Mart to the lake house -- no dice. No speedo to be found anywhere. So we continued on to the lake.
I wasn't prepared for how isolated the lake house was from the surrounding few towns and city areas. This also hampered my speedo scheme. Nowhere we went -- and I looked -- had a swimsuit section with anything but your normal run of trunks and one-piece suits for the ladies, if said place had a swimsuit section at all. Not even the tourist shops within said little towns and city areas, not even the touristy places.
So, after being in the lake area for a few days and finding nothing, I abandoned the plan. I did not, however, tell the girlfriend of the plan or its abandonment, just in case I did find something in a random place. Alas, at the end of the journey, I found nothing. And really, by the time we returned home, I'd almost completely forgotten about the plan and returned to my daily life around the house. I'd still never told the girlfriend about it.
Flash forward to this past afternoon. We'd been out most of the day running errands and shopping for groceries and the like, and I had forgotten that hey, at the end of the day, I still needed to stop by Cash Register Hell and pick up my pay stub and schedule for the coming week. The girlfriend came inside with me, and I went to the office, where Bitch was running the place.
"So where are the pictures?" she asked me, almost immediately.
"...pictures of what?" I asked.
"You in your speedo," she replied, laughing.
I then had to explain I couldn't find one, in disappointment and shame, and then again to Blondie when I saw her on the way out the door. It was only at this point, after leaving work, where I fully explained the scheme to the girlfriend.
"So, basically, your plan was to terrify me?" she asked.
"I think terrorize would be a more appropriate term," I replied.
You be the judge.
Now, even by a few weeks ago, I had already purchased a good 95% of my vacation attire. I'd bought my straw cowboy hat, a beach towel and new swim trunks, my wifebeater A-shirts (which I wore for most of my week of vacation; I took four of them with me), and my lake-faring swimshoes. I had also purchased dark tanning lotion, as previously mentioned, but I wouldn't really count that as "attire" except that in a sense, it is worn. My point is that to the girlfriend, anyhow, my vacation expenses were complete.
However, to me, they weren't. I needed one last, small addition to complete my ensemble.
At work, I asked Jarhead, "When was the last time you were at [the lake]?"
"Last summer sometime, why?"
"Do they have beach shops there? Like, swimsuit places you can buy sunglasses, trunks, etc in?"
"Yeah, there's a ton of them."
Gooooood, I thought.
"...do they sell speedos?"
Jarhead gave me possibly the weirdest look I've ever seen on his face. "You...you want...a speedo?" he asked, trying really hard not to laugh.
"I want a bright pink speedo," I said. "Neon highlighter pink."
"What, to match your phone?"
"Fuck you," I said, continuing. "No, here's the plan. You see, I've already bought all my other beach stuff for the lake. I want to go to one of these shops, act like I'm buying a beach towel, and when the girlfriend's not looking, wrap a speedo up inside the beach towel and purchase it without her seeing I've bought it."
"...okay..." Jarhead seemed at a loss.
"Once I have it," I said, "I'm going to put it on under my swim trunks. And then we're going to go outside to tan. And once I go out to tan, I'm going to deftly put down my towel, strip off the trunks while in the girlfriend's presence, and lay outside -- in the sun with her -- in this pink speedo. In public."
"...why do you want to do this?"
"Because it will terrorize my girlfriend," I replied. "It will drive her nuts! And driving [the girlfriend] nuts is what keeps me going!"
Not necessarily true, but I figured that if I could pull the plan off it would certainly be amusing, if not extremely embarrassing, for the girlfriend. I myself couldn't care less what I look like in a speedo. Or if other people see me in one. Or if the girlfriend freaks out because she's being seen in public with a fat white guy in his speedo. All part of the fun.
I told all the night crew about this frightening scheme, all of whom had the rather disturbing mental image of me in a pink speedo burned into their brains for all eternity. I did this on purpose. Apparently, while I was on vacation, the story of this speedo scheme spread throughout the store, including members of management, but I'll get to that in a while.
So we packed everything and headed to the lake. We stopped at a Wal-Mart along the way, the closest Wal-Mart to the lake house -- no dice. No speedo to be found anywhere. So we continued on to the lake.
I wasn't prepared for how isolated the lake house was from the surrounding few towns and city areas. This also hampered my speedo scheme. Nowhere we went -- and I looked -- had a swimsuit section with anything but your normal run of trunks and one-piece suits for the ladies, if said place had a swimsuit section at all. Not even the tourist shops within said little towns and city areas, not even the touristy places.
So, after being in the lake area for a few days and finding nothing, I abandoned the plan. I did not, however, tell the girlfriend of the plan or its abandonment, just in case I did find something in a random place. Alas, at the end of the journey, I found nothing. And really, by the time we returned home, I'd almost completely forgotten about the plan and returned to my daily life around the house. I'd still never told the girlfriend about it.
Flash forward to this past afternoon. We'd been out most of the day running errands and shopping for groceries and the like, and I had forgotten that hey, at the end of the day, I still needed to stop by Cash Register Hell and pick up my pay stub and schedule for the coming week. The girlfriend came inside with me, and I went to the office, where Bitch was running the place.
"So where are the pictures?" she asked me, almost immediately.
"...pictures of what?" I asked.
"You in your speedo," she replied, laughing.
I then had to explain I couldn't find one, in disappointment and shame, and then again to Blondie when I saw her on the way out the door. It was only at this point, after leaving work, where I fully explained the scheme to the girlfriend.
"So, basically, your plan was to terrify me?" she asked.
"I think terrorize would be a more appropriate term," I replied.
You be the judge.
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