i suppose its ironic that as i sit here, nearly a loss for words about my life; Frank Sinatra pops on to start crooning about how it was A Very Good Year. eesh. i dunno. im not sure where the whole feeling even started. at one point during the day though, it kind of hit me. some asshat, missing 3 teeth, sporting a nascar shirt and a lack of deoderant, decided to tell me that i have some kind of fucking attitude problem. i didnt even say anything. he stared at me. i shrugged. because hes probably right. my attitude, is problematic to keep dealing with trailer trash allstars, about why they plug their toilet every time they shit. hes absolutely right about that.

i just really cant figure out what it is im supposed to do. i suppose it shouldnt make any difference to how i work. but it does. and, i think, its stupid to expect it any differently. my boss mentioned something about, if i liked working there. and i honestly answered him; "no, i dont" he asked me why not. and i told him. "work is something i do to afford my leisure" which is to mean, i dont work because i like it... i only work so i can have the money to do what i want to do. and thats not unreasonable. because what kind of social nutcase, would actually enjoy matching fat asses to plastic seats, day in and day out. no one.