Friday, July 08, 2005
Home alone, on my day off
First of all, my day went okay today. Actually pretty damn good. The air was off here at my friends house and I thought that it was a bigger problem than it was. Flip the breaker, that's all I had to do. Well last night after writing on my blog, I received a call from a friend of mine saying, "They hit London."
Kind of funny that you know what someone means when they say, "THEY" hit London. Although who are we to assume. I could go on about my conspiracy theory and all, but I won't. I am not going to do like I did yesterday, and list every single thing that I did.
Wacky, weird, sweet, deranged, mentally ill Phil is back. Uh oh, I just wrote my name. I wonder if Witness Relocation would be okay with that. Let me check the manual..............Mrs. H's dog ate the fucking manual.
I'll just have to hope that it's okay that I mentioned my real name. I may have choked the dog too much. She's not moving. Oh well they won't notice, she just lays around anyway. Speaking of killing animals, I just saved one. It was a little mouse, and he was caught in the bathtub in the guest bathroom here at Mrs. H's house. I was going to kill it at first, but then I couldn't think of what to use. Then I thought well I shouldn't really kill it because it may have some kind of dirty virus that would float through the air and kill everyone. I then decided to try to wrangle it into a box and set it free outside by the sewer. Although, I had to take my dad to get the tire for his car so I waited until I got back. I put a little cheese in the tub with him and left. I was thinking of running him a bath, but there were no towels small enough for him.
When I got back I finally fixed the air, after talking to Mrs. H and finding the breaker box. I then couldn't get it to flip like a breaker normally does. Then finally I pushed it a little harder and it flipped. I now had air. The second thing to do was get the mouse out of the house. How do you suppose to dispose of the mouse in the house, with an empty box of sox I disclose.
I put another piece of cheese in the box and then went to wranglin. I got him in the box and quickly closed it up. I then carried it out the front door, as if it were an explosive device. I didn't want it to crawl out and up my arm. That would have made me scream like a girl. I am okay with pet mice, but wild mice you never know. I put the box down at the end of the drive in the street, and he/she ran across the street to the neighbors. I think he waved, but I'm not sure.
Something interesting about the mouse. He was wearing my exact outfit.
The offensive people that shall remain nameless on this blog, said that it is Karma. She said that I wrote about drowning a cat in a tub, and now I was saving a mouse in a tub. HHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMM.
What does it all mean?
Where did he get the little Adidas shoes?
Kicking back at Mrs. H's house earlier today was pretty nice. I slept for a while, watched the news, slept while watching the news, and then I went swimming. I had envisioned me kicking back in or by the pool with a drink in my hand. What I got was me getting in where no bugs or leaves were, and then taking all those things out of the pool. Or at least trying to. Frustrated with that I layed out in the sun. Trying to get a tan, I ended up turning red. I then came inside. What a mess. Then I went in the house and went to sleep again.
I woke up and played foosball with Jimmy. I won 20 to 0. I don't think he even knows how to play. Jimmy's my imaginary friend who just got back from Iraq. He lost a pinky over there. He blamed his losing the game, on that. I gave him a tissue and some Midol. Because he's a whiney bitch. We got in an argument and we are no longer friends.
That's when I went to help my father with the tire on his car. He then took me out to eat. Spaghetti and coffee, I felt like a real Italian/Columbian. I then got in an argument with myself about what I was charging myself for cocaine. The Columbian side of me grabbed a knife and tried to give the Italian me a Columbian necktie. That's when my dad stepped in and broke it up.
After dropping my dad off, I went to meet with my boss. Dad and I never got the tire fixed so I have to help him tomorrow.
I met my boss at the Embassy Suites. He pulled up by the front entrance and I joined him. We stood by his truck and discussed the upcoming week's schedule. He said that I needed to work it like a Rubik's Cube, which is what he always says. I'm so tired of hearing it. Then he asked me if I was communicating with the other supervisor. I informed him that I was. That's when he said, "You need to communicate." He always says that, and he always treats me as if I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I just nodded and wrote things down on my legal pad. Then looking over my shoulder at the paper he says, "Don't forget, it's like a rubik's cube and if you communicate with the other supervisor, you should be able to make it work." That was it. I spun around and drove the pen into his chest. He screamed and looked at me with a blank expression on his face. I pulled the pen out, and told him that this conversation was over. He was holding his chest and looking at me as if he was going to make a move. I turned to face him completely, still holding the bloody pen in my hand. I said, "Is there a problem?" He shook his head no. I started to walk away, and he headed to the cab of his truck. I then ran up to him and said, "I could use 20 dollars for gas." He shit himself a little, and then gave me the money as he sheepishly got into the cab of his truck. I was very happy.
When I got back to Mrs. H's house, it had been TP'd. I knew who had done it. It was Jimmy Whineypuss, my EX-imaginary friend. I cleaned it up and went inside to deal with the AC and the mouse in the tub.
And here I said that I wasn't going to go into every single thing.
For those of you who are worried about my boss, or my mental stability. All I have to say is....................
YOU WANT SOME OF THIS?
Have a glorious day everyone. Wait a minute, I just turned my emotions completely around, am I a serial killer.