Mr. Snot

I realized that due to posting so much on FaceBook, I rarely get a chance to update this blog, so, here I go.
 Let's see, since last we spoke, I was working a Target , it sucked and I was feeling sad. Well, I'm still there, it still sucks but, It doesn't bother me as much because I've come to the conclusion that all jobs suck. look at Whitney Houston. career, fame, family. Not good enough; MUST–SNORT–MOUNTAIN–OF–COCAINE! I'm trying to focus on my art because a  shrink told me that it's that thing that keeps me for being on the 6 O'clock news as THAT guy that did the horrible thing with the you-know-what. Every year, right after Christmas, Target cuts your hours because the big rush is over and nobody want  to  buy anything. I mean, let's face it, you can't have a Martin Luther King Jr. sale: "I have a dream...and great prices on flat screen TVs!" Eventually, the closer you get to the next holiday, the more hours you get back. During that down time I started cranking out art and developing an actual plan to sell some shit. Suddenly, my hours went from 2 days per week to 5, What the fuck happened? One minute the mofos are complaining about how non-Target I am and the next they're shoving hours down my throat. I was so surprised by this, that I had forgotten that I listed Saturday and Sunday as being  available days to work. I haven't worked those days,  literally, in years. When I saw them on the schedule, I nearly pit my shants. Wha-wha what? work on a Saturday night. Saturday night is extra horrible at Target. It's like it turns into a football field sized 7-11. Drunks pimps and hoes are all there, getting their miserable purchases for their miserable lives and buying  their miserable breakfast cereals.
I cringe in fear every time I see three large women, in pajama pants  and hair curlers in their hair. What the fuck, THEM! I mutter. I discovered  If I shut my mouth, I have a vague chance that they will do the same and we can all get through this transaction without them flying off the handle like a rusty, broken machete. Worst than the customers, is the supervisor you have to work with. There's this guy, let's call him that Bald Ignorant Guy, Says Negative Offensive Things or: BIG SNOT. Even the most kind hearted people hate to work with him because he constantly criticizes you  and never sends you on your break. On many occasion people have just went on their own breaks after given up on him . Sometimes people have gone on their breaks 15 minutes before going home! I'm pretty sure this is illegal. I have no idea what his problem is but I do know he's very insecure about something out side of Target. Maybe his wife and kids like to tie him up and beat him like a piñata or maybe he WANTS  his wife and kids to tie him up and beat him like a piñata–what ever. When he comes to work he wants to spread it to you like a virus. I HATE MY LIFE, MUST TAKE REVENGE ON WORLD! After I figured this out, I was at least able to keep him from talking to me. If you say anything to him and heaven forbid, it's a contradiction to some stoooooooooooopid shit he says, then it's over, he'll spend the rest of the evening making your life a living hell and trying to get a rise out of you. Bully classic. Big Snot works every damn night which I guess makes him a lifer that has swallowed the blue pill with a Dixie™cup of purple Kool Aid™. I've heard that you should never vote for anyone that want to be president because, immediately there is something wrong with people that wants that much power. I think the same is true with anyone that wants t be a supervisor AND will never be promoted above that. The smart ones get transferred to another section of the store but not the ass hats that stick around for years. eventually, spines curves down, and they turn into charactertures of Montgomery Burns, becoming more bitter with every shift, and indulging in sadistic, emotional masturbation on any, that come  within reach of their 2 inch circumcised egos.  

But enough about Target, I mean really, enough about that stupid Job. Let's talk about something else:

Of the two nuisance houses we have: House #1 with the drug dealing teenager and house #2 with the people that were always on the front stoop yelling as if there was no inside to their house and it as just a facade. House two's occupants got kicked out of their house because they haven't paid their property taxes in three years. I had no idea you could get evicted from your own house if it's paid for.  We were so happy to see them go, but low and behold, in moves a new breed of yellers that had a party which ended in the loud sounds of: "Bitch this!" And  "Bitch that." Is that housed cursed by a very loud ghost? I'm hoping it's an isolated incident or the person doing the most yelling hates them and won't ever visit again. But really, what were they thinking?
"Hey, we got a house, with a roof and a toilet INSIDE the house!"
"Let's have a party!"
"Let's invite Henrietta, your neanderthal, extra loud-mouthed cousin!"
"I hate that bitch!"
"Look at you! Mr. Monopoly guy with the hat and monocle! Bought a house and already a snob!"

3AM there she was, refusing to leave the party, yelling at the host. Don't you love it when somebody drinks up all your liquor and then curses you out? I'm so glad I'm a concerned drunk. you know you have happy drunks, sad drunks and angry drunks, When I get drunk I wash your dishes or want to make sure the girls in the room aren't going to get raped. In collage I actually baby sat 3 girls and kept them for going home with strange creepy guys the whole night, what did I get for it? Nothing! What a sap. Like many guys, I always imagine what my life would be like if I were the creep and had taken advantage of the girls. Having daughters now all I can say is I hope my daughters have a nerdy friend like me, keeping ghetto sperm away from them. The only difference will be, I'll approach the boy, thank him for saving my daughter for marriage if not more high quality sperm and then slip him a hundred bucks: "This is for  your trouble. Keep up the good work. There's more where that came from and if you violate them yourself and they get an STD or pregnant and have to leave school, I'm going to take the rest of their collage fund and pay someone large and smelly to violate you. Maybe you can do something horrible to preserve your daughters chastity. Go on to a FaceBook chat with their friends and say how you heard they have a boyfriend in prison who's going to escape on prom night just to murder her prom date. Or the only reason she's so nice is because of the cup full of meds she takes every morning to curb her obsession, cutting hot dog shaped objects in half with scissors.

Every now and then they mention how they have crushes on boys in class. It's sounds cute but I guess that's how it starts: I have a crush on the boy that eats paste; I have a crush on the boy that collects Pokemon cards; I have a crush on the boy with the car, that snorts glue and plays poker.

One of my girls got a valentine of some type of Lego action figure, lightning bolts coming from it's hand and the words: FACE YOUR FEAR! on it. How romantic I thought. I guess the boys in their class are still in girls, yuck! mode. If only they could keep that up until the girls graduate form college and get a good job and travel around the world, after that, get pregnant all you want. If there is a God it should have made it so woman have a thick, spiky fold of skin that covers the vagina and doesn't open up until they have fulfilled their life dreams. Imagine you couldn't have sex unless you really worked on your life first, and men would be motivated to help them: Porn magazine would be full of women doctors, chemist and other successful women with fully developed sex organs. Everywhere, crys of: "C'mon honey! Study damn it! Don't you want to become a doctor! What do you mean I'm being selfish? I love fracturing my Johnson on that dangerous trampoline thing on you crotch.


That's it: E.M