So I realize I haven't written in a while, and honestly, I don't care.  I'm also convinced that the three people I believe that might read this don't care either.  I mean really, I keep you on your computer for an extra three minutes, and if it was such a task, you wouldn't bother.  But that's besides the point.  The truth is, a day and a half ago I lost my cell phone somewhere between getting ready to leave to get camping gear out of our storage unit and just before leaving the unit.  This is the first time since before even having a cell phone that I've been without it.  Not knowing where it is has me feeling this disconnect, but not just from my phone, but also from, well, it feels like everything.  I've lost all sense of time, and it figures I would lose my phone at a time when I'm expecting calls from several people.  I also needed it because I was planning on catching up with my friend up in New York, but now that idea can pretty much be shot to shit, unless he calls me.  So basically this is me getting all my "lack of phone" whatever you want to call it out of my system.  In other words, your reading this, is me using you, pretty much.  So thanks, for letting me use you.  Do you feel kind of dirty like a used person should?  No, well I feel guilty like a user should.  Actually, no, no I don't.  Not in the least.

That was my attempt at sad humor because not having my phone has me feeling similar to what I would think "that time of the month" feeling is, and I'm shooting for anything to make me feel better, even if it means accidentally offending the female readers I have by comparing me not having my phone to what my sister calls "an internal ticking time-bomb waiting for some dumb-ass to cut the blue wire instead of the red one that in turn detonates the aforementioned time-bomb", but in not so many words and certainly lacking my favorite word to type (aforementioned) because she isn't as edumakated as I.

Ok, I'm done.  Good night for me, possibly good morning for you, at least if you're reading this within four or five hours of my posting.

Yes, yes, hold your applause.  I know.  I'm just as excited to be making a post as you are to be reading it.  I've come up with a plan to get me back in the groove of writing on here, rather than checking to see if the "question of the day" is worth answering in under four sentences.  But I'll get back to that later, because that isn't what brought me here tonight (well, it kind of is, but only half the reason).



The other day I had a shitty ass night at work, but rather than rant on about how much it sucked, because it's not like I don't do that in other entries, I'm going to complain about what happened after I left work. 

It was roughly four in the morning and I had decided to stop at the new Giant on Ridge Pike.  I walked in, smelling of beer and cigarettes, and was greeted by what looked like a midget Mexican.  I said hello, and then mentioned that I had forgotten a hand basket.  As I turned the little man told me to wait and that he would retrieve one for me.  Sure enough he did, and I thought the gesture, although kind, was slightly suspicious.  I went to the back of the store to get some hot dogs and bread so I would have something to eat over the weekend.  Then I made my way over to the dairy section to get milk.  On my way I saw that my favorite tea was on sale.  I looked through the display but was unable to find the specific kind, Turkey Hill Diet Green Tea, that I liked.  As soon as I turned around, there he was, the midget Mexican.  Thinking nothing of it, I asked if there were any Diet Green Tea's in the back.  He went to look, and I perused the string cheese selection.  He came back with two gallons, which quite honestly was choice, but also again a little weird because I never told him I wanted two gallons.  But with my beverages and hot dogs, I meandered my way to the self check out.  Of course, these machines are never truly self check out, because as soon as I tried to ring up the second gallon of tea, the machine stopped working, and then promptly told me to check with the attendant.  I picked my head up and looked toward the attendant booth, and saw no one, then I looked back around the store.  It was creepy, I felt like I was all alone, and had a feeling like I shouldn't have been there.  Then I turned back to the attendant booth and pow, the midget Mexican.  I know what you're thinking, and yes, I too then began to wonder if oompa-loompa's were real.  He cleared the machine, and I was able to finish my purchase and head out to my truck.  I decided to put the basket down and place my groceries in a shopping cart.  I walked out into the empty parking lot, with only every other lamp on, and thought to myself, "where the fuck did the three other cars go that were here when I arrived?"  I loaded the goods into the back of my truck, and gave the cart a gentle push away toward the other side of the parking lanes where the designated cart thing was.  I watched the cart travel on and then turned to get in my truck.  I did my normal routine, buckled up, started the vehicle, turned on the radio, check my side mirrors, and then my rear-view.  That's when I finally got weirded out.  Behind my truck, was the shopping cart I pushed away.  I immediately got out, fists clenched, ready to pounce like a trapped tiger.  But there was nobody there.  I checked my rear bumper to see if the cart had scratched my truck, then eyed up the parking lot to see if it would be possible, by any grace of God, for this cart to have been pushed away and maybe rolled back, but the lot was new, and too level.  There was no way this cart could have been pushed away and the came back.  So I grabbed the cart and hung it up on the curb.  Just then a mental image of a scary clown Mexican midget attacking me popped into my head.  It was enough to get my to run back to my truck, lock the doors, and speed away home.  I was freaked the fuck out.


That is a true story.  My plan, to get me to post more frequently, is to find a common ground for all my posts, like a theme.  But I don't want to tell stories about work, or boring blurbs about what I do every day.  I would like to be creative to some extent.  So my plan is to take suggestions on what kind of theme I should write about.  Any theme at all.  Even if it means I have to bullshit and make stuff up.  I guess I am more or less asking what kind of garbage do you want to waste your time reading and entertaining yourself with.  And this doesn't mean that whatever idea I settle on will be the only thing I write about.  I will continue to bore you with how much I hate work, and any other randomness I deem worthy of typing.  But for now, throw me your ideas, I'm open to pretty much anything.

So I've pretty much decided that I'm just going to coast through the rest of my Ancient History class.  First off, history is far from my favorite or successful subject.  I do hours of painful studying, only to get barely passing grades on tests and quiz's.  I'm going to save myself the torture and just suck up the shitty grade and repeat the class in the fall with an easier professor.  After me first years at KU I learned that being picky about the professors you have for classes really doesn't benefit you in the long run, so just accept the professor you get that has a class convenient for your schedule.  But this time around I got a professor who seems to know everything, probably because she lived it (seriously, she is so old I've been waiting for her to freeze mid-sentence and die standing up).  I know that is terrible but if you had her, you'd understand.

Anyway, I'm tired and I finally have a Saturday off from work.  First time in six weeks.