The Lunch That Never Was

Here I am at work, mindin’ my own business, bullshittin’ on myspace.com and faking the funk like I have a job too important to pay attention to anyone else when it happened.

A dark figure moves past my desk and out of my sight too soon for me to catch the face. But my stomach just sank. It couldn’t have been for no reason. Whatever. Just go back to what you were doing. The chinese lunch special will be here any minute and you haven’t eaten all day. Maybe your just hungry.

A minute later in comes the nice old chinese guy who always makes the deliveries rain or shine (and its actually snowing pretty hard out there right now) with my lunch. I pay him, get up and stretch before heading to the lounge. As I pass a large desk with mailboxes before hanging a right to the hole-in-the-wall they’ve designated as our rest spot, I just notice that Mr. Tall and Dark was standing there. Apparently I didn’t see him walk past my desk the second time.

*uGHH! There it goes again.

In my head I’m telling myself….relax! shit! Lunch is here already! WTF is wrong with my stomach?
I reach the lounge door and stop cold. I hear the voice now and something in about it registered in me. *put your lunch down and go wash your hands. The bathroom door is right infront of the mail boxes.

Good idea. So its “about-face” and off to the bathroom I go. He’s gone. I’m not giving up. I decided to stop by my desk one more time. I….forgot….MY PEN! Yeah. Thats it. (not that I need a pen to eat chicken and broccoli but whatever) I reach for the pen and there he pops up… having recognized ME FIRST!

Mr. Tall, Dark (and now, handsome): Hey! I remember you.
Michi (lying cause he now looks familiar): Excuse me?
Mr. TDH: We worked together at the Gap like 5 years ago. We were both seasonals. You used to like that kid…whats his face?
Michi: Oh yeahhhhhh! What guy? (I was lying about that too) Wait, you mean Roland? (see?)Mr. TDH: Yeahhhh, Roland. By the way, just in case you forgot, its Rich. *extends hands
Michi: *shakes hand. Of course! The history major. How have you been? Its been so long!

Well to keep a story thats already too long shorter, we had a nice 10 minute conversation infront of all the patients and a couple of nurses (bitches are sooooo nosey I tell ya) about college, work, being single, going to the movies and the future projects underway, whew. He can talk! (I like that too, lol) In the end, he wished me well and asked me if I’m around this location alot (i’m a floater) and I told him I’d be here Mondays.

Great, now I’m going to be keeping and eye out for ‘em. I ended up throwing my lunch away. I’m such a dork, huh?

Friday Night In the City

Its 3am. and I just got home from a night of walking around the city and chatting it up with Lauren. Strange how you meet people you can totally connect with in a place like the internet. Then again, these days the internet is commonplace.

Two cups of coffee, six cigarettes and 4 miles in 20 degree NYC weather while yapping about our geeky internet lives and various life tragedies and its time to go back home. Fucked up as it sounds, its actually kinda comforting to know your not the only one who’s been through life’s hard knocks.

We say our goodnights and part ways (hope she got home ok) and its time to catch the D-train, dredding that damn transfer to the A-train at 2:30 in the effin’ morning in the middle of Harlem w/ a $100 i-pod shuffle the size of a winterfresh beating Led Zeppelin at your ear drums. No? What? No more uptown service? FUCK! Now I gotta walk out and west 2 more blocks. May as well. I get to take the A-train straight home after all.

Eighteen minutes later and I’m finally allowed to swipe through (damn effin’ metrocards!) and I board the A-train safe and sound. These days its hard to nap on the way home. My shuffle (known from here on out as “Clementine”) around my neck keeps me on my toes. Nobody is going to jack my shit with out a fist in the eye. Can’t be too bad though. I look around and there must be seven of us jack-asses with white headphones. Apple’s making a killin’ these days I tell ya.

So I stare at the billboards as the train zips by. “The Jacket?” Oh yeah, we agreed that we’ll check that flick out next time around.

What the hell is that? I keep seeing billboards w/ my childhood female cartoon characters from shows like The Flintstones, Jetsons, and Scooby-Doo. Wasn’t paying too much attention but it had to be some hair care product (even though Wilma’s new “do” looks pretty awful even in the “after” pic, lol) Then I spot another one. Some idiot vandalized it with a sharpie.

  • *in bold caps: “WILMA IS A WHITE TRASH BITCH”
  • in small font w/ parenthesis: “Thats JANE JETSON you fucking dingbat!”

Respect the white line!

Crossing the street, minding my own business during my lunch hour I was blissfully listening to my lil’ shuffle (affectionately named Clementine) playing “Interstate Love Song” when all of the sudden, “SSSssscccccccccccccccreeeeeeeeeeeeechhhh!!!” 
I don’t know, but that whole thing about life flashing before your eyes is utter bullsh*t because all I pictured was Scott Weiland’s head exploding. *shrugs

When I came to half a second later, I realized a taxi cab almost ran me over. The sh*t that pisses me off is that I had the right of way. And whats worse?! HE gets mad at ME and speeds off after I continue walking across the street. Before I could shake my fist in the air and swear him off to kingdom come, a most unexpected (and pleasant for me at least) suprise! A cop car comes out of no where and the sirens start blaring. I’d have done my little ipod-shuffle dance right there if it hadn’t been for the fact that the next song was “Stairway to Heaven.” Not exactly victory-dance material, you know?

Miss Crankypants

Taking a sip of coffee at 10:30a on a Thursday morning. I’ve got a teeth-sucking, disgruntled operator to my left, a clunky compressor machine farting burnt rubber scented stink to my right and somewhere off in the distance behind me are the sounds of a child’s muffled screams, vainly staving off the dental drill with all its maniacal revving. F**k, I let it get cold again. This is going to be the third time I have to nuke the f**ker.

Sitting here makes me wonder, how the f**k did I get here in the first place?

Worse still is having to listen to some of the corniest, snappy comments of the passer-bys I don’t exactly work with. I consider it part of my job qualifications to successfully avoid participating in most daily interactions with them. The best thing I’ve learned in the past few months at this place is how to appear busy while typing nonsense. I’ve gotten very good at it too. I would be proud of myself… if that were the kind of thing one should be proud of.

Normally, I’m alot more pleasant than this. I’m sure you’ll realize that as you read later entires. That is, if you haven’t ho-hummed by now and clicked on the little “x” at the upper right hand corner of this window. Sorry about that. This particular mood must be because in the back of my mind I haven’t solved the greatest mystery of in my life at this very moment.

 

Whats for lunch?

Catbox, I’ll bring you back!!

 

I had a little blog once, years ago.  Its name was The Litterbox Confessional.  I’ve been considering bringing it back in a sub category, maybe.   It was such a catchy name, but I like WordPress better than Blogger.com.   Its just that it takes so much effort to go ahead and start another account just because I can’t get rid of the oh-so prosaic “Chelly07’s Weblog.”

 

What was I thinking?!

Well, this was my little hook:

Welcome to The Litterbox Confessional. Care to feast your eyes on some nonsensical brain farting? Ever wonder why you can’t keep your eyes open when you sneeze? Did it ever cross your mind to test and see if its true that scorpions committ suicide when fed drops of alcohol? Me either. Its all splendiforously craptastical. A not-so-great escape from the terrifically boring mundanity of your job. I mean if your reading this…it must be, right?