Been banned from all computer activity by the almighty boss-dad. It’s fair enough, I was in a dark place… it consumed me.
I gorged on internet. Now I have no internet left.
Anyway to replace internet, and daytime blogging, I had to do something. Dammit I can’t abide boredom. I mean I’ll deal with the customers, I’ll clean the shop completely, I’ll fold scarves and I’ll do all the millions of extra bits like the window displays, organising stuff, inventory, re-ordering stock, choosing new stock from catalogues etc etc but when that is done, (and that doesn’t take very long, even if I was to actually do it all) then what am I supposed to do? Stand with my hands behind my back and smile into the distance? Mentally compose my cv, trying to find a way to state “keep me away from customer service” without sounding at all less of a good employee?
There is no one in the shop, most of the time. It’s quiet these days, I don’t know, my dad blames the economy but I think the difference is small enough that it could just be, we had nicer shoes and jackets last year and they sold like hot crack cakes. This year our shoes suck balls, and our jackets have pointless short sleeves. Anyway I think forceing a human being to be totally idle for prolonged periods as a job, that is cruelty. In fairness most people do have to tolerate this aspect of employment- many of them for longer periods than I have to, and many many many for lower pay. But that don’t make it right. I don’t know if everyone else is just getting on with it, manning up and dealing with having to just not do anything- and expect time to pass anyway- or if I have some sort of extra bit or missing bit that makes is particularly hard for me to deal with doing FUCK ALL. Like I spend my leisure time doing fuck all, but time passes and I vaguely enjoy myself because I watch ludicrous situations play out between attractive Hollywood people and I see unlikely conflicts arise and get sorted out and somehow that makes it bearable to really truly not be doing anything. Although lately I am eating like a motherfucker. I keep midnight snacking on salami, and not in the good way (the good way is vaginally. but not in the bad way either, which would be anally. No, I’m just ingesting Italian sausage.. orally, and not in the good way either. The good way would be if there was sex involved. So I’m eating salami. Ok then, I will stop explaining my crappy euphemisms now.)
Anyway I can’t deal with boredom. My brain starts panicking. It starts rattling on its cage and being like, “Hello? Hello? Seriously? You’re gonna leave me here? Ok come on this is bullshit, I want my phone call. I have my rights! You can’t leave me here, what am I supposed to do?” and work-me, the brain guard, just shrugs and is like “I’m sorry buddy, but deal with it. You gotta. Just do your time, you can watch Californication later.” and brain starts freaking the fuck out and trying to escape.
And I crack and can’t handle it so I begin writing lists of things I need or want or should have done last week or might conceivably be able to do if I stopped shopping. And I just pretend that a reasonable amount of time is passing. And I give myself save points up ahead, like at 2pm I will have another coffee. And that’s the temporary finish line, so I can just about handle waiting until then and yay coffee time! Celebration motherfucker, and I drink that coffee and as I chug the last, most sugary sip, I realise FUCK I have to do a whole other imaginary workday now, and come up with another finish line. Ok at 2.30 pm I will allow myself to change the clothes on a mannekin. Fucks sake, my day goes slow.
Here is what I did today to entertain myself.
1. Practiced deep throating a banana. Was almost caught by a customer who barged in as I was gargling mushy yellow chode, but just managed to dive under the counter and regurgitate in time to just look like a messy eater freak, not a sex pervert.
I am not surprisingly completely shit at deep throating. Not surprising because I haven’t given head in a long time. I used to do it regularly when trying to make husband fall in love with me (it works) and he being pornographically inclined, was particularly fond of getting up close and personal with my tonsils. In fact I never learnt to properly properly do it all the way to the base without a horrible “haaack” sound escaping me, but if I hadn’t become entirely sure he wasn’t going to cheat on me, and therefore abandoned all oral endeavours, I’m sure I would have made it.
Anyway I am totally out of practice. I like bananas though as they are filling but do not make me fat, so I think I will make a point of adding foreplay to my snacks, and hopefully get my throat back in shape. I’m not a fan of penis in the abstract, really, but I know I can very much enjoy doing something if I’m good at it. Recently I’ve tried handling dicks, either manually or orally, and found I have no clue what to do with the damn thing except jam it in my crotch. So. That’s something I’m going to work on.
But then, I was just finished bringing tears to my eyes for the day, and proceeded to eat the banana like a normal primate, and my dad barges in and is all “hey! No internet now, but you’re eating? Eating at work?” and I’m pretending to be all “oops, you caught me!” when really, I escaped quite lightly. Deep throat practice will therefore be discontinued, after just 2 days and no improvement to my technique. To be replaced with:
2. Kegel exercises. Squeezing crotch muscles and releasing them is at least invisible, if extremely boring and easy to forget. I can’t see this lasting as a habit, it’s not particularly entertaining and I found time may even have dragged on more while I was doing my clenches.
3. Brushing my hair.
I brushed my hair a lot of times today. I was gonna do it like Marsha in the brady bunch, 100 times, but I got bored and lost count. My hair looks nice anyway. I look pretty awesome today, why always on these nothingy days, do I just happen to look great? I had fuck all sleep again last night. A shitty chick flick left me so demoralised and un-entertained, I had to roll out a few eps of Californication to compensate. Starting to get close to the end. Worried about what the fuck am I gonna watch next.
I’m a bit tired but going to go out, I think.
I have to take advantage of my random hot days. Except by tonight I’ll probably look like crap. This happens. It’s all about makeup strategy- the first application can be hit or miss, the second application is ALWAYS shit. It never takes. Unless- and this is a mythical beast of a thing- it’s a hang over day, and I didn’t take my make up off the night before. Randomly, for no understandable reason, I can wake up with the maximum possible hot face and makeup on top works like cheese on…anything. It’s magical. No one knows why or how this happens though. It’s like a massive bit of papaya in your muesli. Just take it as it comes, and rejoice, for you are in the presence of a particularly pleasant string of 0’s and 1’s today. And tomorrow it will be gone… back to the insecure end of the spectrum.
4. Plucked up the courage to do my new go-to sexy dance in front of a mirror.
5. Confronted the reality regarding my new sexy dance.
I had an empty shop, changing room with curtains and a long mirror, and I was listening to Bryan Ferry. I was at a Bryan Ferry concert a few months ago with my parents and there were dancers on stage. He had two dancers behind him, energetic spasmodic dancing to the music. I watched them for like one song and then my eyes were drawn permanently to someone else, who wasn’t moving that much really, a backing singer, and man she was sexy.
She was just sort of moving, gently rocking back and forth, and I was in awe. I was like oh man I would strangle a whole bag full of kittens if only I could move like that. It just looked so effortless, like she wasn’t even supposed to be dancing at all because she was a backing singer and there were other girls being paid to dance, but her body was just moving to the rhythm. I tried to emulate her because I was in a bit of a jam anyway, being at a gig and listening to funky music and too awkward to dance like everyone else. So I thought I was copying her, it was just like, first one knee is bent, then it’s straight and the other knee is bent. Like slow, casual, sexy pedalling… but obviously that was not it, as today (having added this move to my repertoire) I finally looked in the mirror and did it, and oh I was entirely wrong. That was not it at all. No way. The singer looked sexy when she did whatever she was doing, it looked like her body just reacted to music that way.
I, on the other hand, looked completely retarded. I was sort of pedalling with my legs, it looked ridiculous. Anyway I have to stop doing that “dance” now, and go back to knowing I have no rhythm. It’s a pity because for a few deluded months I was sure I had found a cheat way to dance when the music or situation doesn’t warrant real arm-flailing.
4. Folded some motherfuckin scarves.
Customer, rifling through a neatly stacked pile of idential black scarves:
“Are these all the same?”
Me: Yes, they are all exactly the same.
Customer continues dishevelling them all. Finds one at the bottom of the pile that apparently catches her eye. Yanks it with a flourish, like that trick where you pull out the tablecloth from under dishes and all. Whole pile of neatly folded scarves comes tumbling down. They cease to be neatly folded.
Customer retrieves the one scarf she has singled out for purchasing like it’s the sweetest puppy in the corner. She brings it to me proudly and relinquishes a sum of money. I give her a bag and lie to her, expressing my gratitude for her custom.
Cunts. I’m just glad I don’t work in Benetton, I imagine they have a much more frustrating job re-stacking and re-folding identical shirts all day. At least most of my stuff is on hangers, although you wouldn’t believe how retarded some people behave in the presence of a clothes hanger.
5. Had the dreaded encounter with the latest visitor to my nethers.
He popped in when I was finishing up and counting the day’s takings with my coworker.
He was like, hey what are you doing tonight etc.
I was quite standoffish and awkward with him: not because of what happened. Oh no.
It’s just, I was about to close and go home, and my body was celebrating my impending freedom by telling me to find a toilet and make sure my colleague had left and USE THE MOTHERFUCKING TOILET.
But I couldn’t because HE was there, and although ordinarily if I’m with a guy I want to give the “just friends” signal to,
I’d be all about proclaiming “I need to take a crap”, this time I won’t say that because I know that lately my honesty and vulgarity around men is having the opposite to desired effect.
So I accompany him out the door and say I may meet up with him later (so not going to) and I miss my opportunity and have to wait til I get home to relieve myself of my stressful condition.
Anyway. I have to shower and put on something slutty, I’m meeting some friends at the bar. No work tomorrow, RESULT!