January 7th, 2002


Communism is just a red herring. Like all members of the oldest profession, I'm a capitalist.

I will be feeding HM’s cats all week while she is away on business. My compensation for this, besides the joy of being able to see, pet, and play some feather-on-a-stick with the cats is that she’s letting me use her parking space for the week. Since she lives about 3 blocks from my office, this is a great deal for me: it’s easy to get to to feed the cats, it’s faster for me to get into work when I drive, but is usually cost-prohibitive, as the cheapest all day parking I have found is $8 per day.

HM’s parking lot, as many of you know, is in the alley situated between the row houses that line her block and the car wash behind it. The area was once rather seedy, known for the thriving flesh and crack cocaine sales industries, but has since experienced a recent upturn, as indicated by a French Deli, $1800 per month single bedroom apartments and a Fresh Fields.

This morning, I was reminded why they it is the Oldest Profession. Between the alley and work I must have seen about fifteen used condoms strewn about the street. Some businesses will always be big, but last night must have been one hell of a lucrative night for someone. I’m sure at least the folks at Trojan saw an unexpected spike in sales.
  • Current Mood
    dirty dirty

They call her "Thumbs"

I'd like to give a shout out to my girl Shana, the all-thumbs Red Cross by-the-hour Blood Extraction Specialist for not only having trouble finding one of the hundreds of veins that shine through my paper-thin skin, but for managing to shove it in all crooked, causing immense pain, total arm numbness and full body shaking. When she saw the look of panic and the eyeliner tears streaming down my face, she told me that it was alright and it was going to be over in one second, as soon as I can give her a couple of squeezes of my fist. I managed to utter, "I can't move my hand."

She seemed to think this was some sort of insult on her ability, and asked if I wanted a second opinion on whether or not the needle was in right. I said I didn't want a second opinion, I just wanted the damn thing out.

What pisses me off most about this, more than the pain in my left inner elbow or the coldness of my fingers or even the sleepy feeling I'm experiencing, they treated me like it was my fault that this happened. They assumed it was my first time giving blood and that I was nervous and panicky. It was *not* my first time giving blood, I was *not* nervous and I only panicked when I lost feeling in my extremities.

People mess up. That's understandable. But don't tell me it's my problem. And don't worry so much about the other people giving blood seeing someone in the room not having a pleasant and eventless experience that they become afraid. And don't try to fix the situation by just making me laugh. Or by giving me cookies. I don't want your god damn cookies. I don't want any fucking pretzels either.
  • Current Mood
    pissed off pissed off
  • Tags

From the PC Gone Amok Files

During the MTV Cribs Marathon this weekend (which, for those of you who don't know, is the TRL version of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous), one of the musicians whose home was being displayed had a poster of Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver where he's wearing the green jacket and pointing two guns straight at you with a meniacal smile in his face.

MTV put nudity fuzzies over the guns.