jjhalloween (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jjhalloween) wrote,@ 2008-12-17 17:55:00 |
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Starbucks, Portland, all downhill from here
As I mentioned, I recently started working for Starbucks... or should I say, Starsucks. Oh, man, I kills myself. Or want to.
Erm, it does suck bad, though, and after two weeks there, I'm on the verge of quitting. I'm working full-time at Pagliacci Pizza now anyway, so while I can't say I don't need the money, it's not as essential as it was a month ago. I can pay my rent without it. And Starbucks sucks bad. It reminds me in a truly awful way of working at Taco Bell and Arby's back when I was eighteen and nineteen, which highlights the utter lack of progress I've made careerwise.
So fuck it. Come January I'll resume the ol' job search in any case, looking for something that will pay me actual money. Wish me luck.
On a more positive note, Meg and I went to Portland on Monday to visit her friend Morgan. We walked downtown in the bitter cold and drank Spanish coffee at an Irish pub. Then we got take-out from a terrific Thai place called Thai Orchid and went back to Morgan's apartment. The initial plan had been to go to the zoo to see the Christmas lights, but the zoo, it turns out, was closed due to weather.
Instead, we got high and tried to play a board game called the Game of Real Life, which is only a little like the Game of Life. It was the first time I'd been high in over a year, and honestly, I was having a lot of trouble following the rules. After a while I gave up and lay down on the couch, being entirely satisfied with watching everyone else play. I kind of want to purchase the game now, though. It's funny. You remember how in the Game of Life you ended up married with two kids and then the game just ended? Well, in the Game of Real Life, you die at the end. There's also a Nuclear War square. If anyone lands on it, everyone dies, and the game is over. Ha!
A couple more people came over and we played Catchphrase. Then Meg and Morgan jointly decided that this small gathering should become a dance party, and so I danced with them for a little while before finally returning to my ever-so-welcoming couch. (I'd worked a lot the week before, and gotten up early that morning. Also, as I mentioned, I was really high.) Good times.
We left the next morning, with a little excitement on the way. You see, Morgan's apartment is at the top of a steep hill, which naturally had frozen to a solid sheet of ice the previous night. Meg's car was parked at the top of this hill, and because of the ice there was no way to go back up the hill. The only way out was down.
"Okay," I said. "Just pump the brake, keep it slow. We're just going to go to the bottom of this hill. I'll stay out here and push you if I need to."
About halfway down, I realized that this was an inherently flawed idea. "Pump the brake!" I yelled as I half-ran, half-slid down the hill beside the careening car, now completely out of control.
"I am pumping the brake!" Meg screamed back. It's true, she was.
The car hit a VW Bug and stopped. The bug was not much damaged - a broken taillight, a streak of red paint from Meg's car. C'est la vie. I blame the bug. Little bubbly thing was just begging to be hit.
As I mentioned, I recently started working for Starbucks... or should I say, Starsucks. Oh, man, I kills myself. Or want to.
Erm, it does suck bad, though, and after two weeks there, I'm on the verge of quitting. I'm working full-time at Pagliacci Pizza now anyway, so while I can't say I don't need the money, it's not as essential as it was a month ago. I can pay my rent without it. And Starbucks sucks bad. It reminds me in a truly awful way of working at Taco Bell and Arby's back when I was eighteen and nineteen, which highlights the utter lack of progress I've made careerwise.
So fuck it. Come January I'll resume the ol' job search in any case, looking for something that will pay me actual money. Wish me luck.
On a more positive note, Meg and I went to Portland on Monday to visit her friend Morgan. We walked downtown in the bitter cold and drank Spanish coffee at an Irish pub. Then we got take-out from a terrific Thai place called Thai Orchid and went back to Morgan's apartment. The initial plan had been to go to the zoo to see the Christmas lights, but the zoo, it turns out, was closed due to weather.
Instead, we got high and tried to play a board game called the Game of Real Life, which is only a little like the Game of Life. It was the first time I'd been high in over a year, and honestly, I was having a lot of trouble following the rules. After a while I gave up and lay down on the couch, being entirely satisfied with watching everyone else play. I kind of want to purchase the game now, though. It's funny. You remember how in the Game of Life you ended up married with two kids and then the game just ended? Well, in the Game of Real Life, you die at the end. There's also a Nuclear War square. If anyone lands on it, everyone dies, and the game is over. Ha!
A couple more people came over and we played Catchphrase. Then Meg and Morgan jointly decided that this small gathering should become a dance party, and so I danced with them for a little while before finally returning to my ever-so-welcoming couch. (I'd worked a lot the week before, and gotten up early that morning. Also, as I mentioned, I was really high.) Good times.
We left the next morning, with a little excitement on the way. You see, Morgan's apartment is at the top of a steep hill, which naturally had frozen to a solid sheet of ice the previous night. Meg's car was parked at the top of this hill, and because of the ice there was no way to go back up the hill. The only way out was down.
"Okay," I said. "Just pump the brake, keep it slow. We're just going to go to the bottom of this hill. I'll stay out here and push you if I need to."
About halfway down, I realized that this was an inherently flawed idea. "Pump the brake!" I yelled as I half-ran, half-slid down the hill beside the careening car, now completely out of control.
"I am pumping the brake!" Meg screamed back. It's true, she was.
The car hit a VW Bug and stopped. The bug was not much damaged - a broken taillight, a streak of red paint from Meg's car. C'est la vie. I blame the bug. Little bubbly thing was just begging to be hit.
