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8/20/2003

I like being the new Roy. People even refer to me as "The new Roy". Roy's job is so simple and keeps me busy enough to not notice the time; although it does allow for plenty of day dreaming. Today I reenacted the scene from "Desperado" where Antonio Banderas is hiding behind a counter and has to silently check his pistol for bullets so the bad guys don't hear him. I held my pen up to my ear and slowly clicked the button on top while I ducked behind a file cabinet. It let out a little click (just like in the movie!) and I made that "oooo" face. Such a hottie. Antonio? No, me. I haven't really checked to see if the other people in the office have a clear view of me. "The new Roy is making laser noises."
There's a new annoying woman at work. She doesn't scream about guacomole or look like a rat like Screeching Woman of yore. That chick looked like Minney Mouse came to life and then got shot in the face. This one has no inner-dialogue. "I have to tinkle" "I was just at the little girls room" "I bought new shoes because my feet stink" "My phone is black" "I like pizza" "Eye blinking, breath, eye blinking, breath". She sits right behind me. Sometimes I go in the bathroom just to escape her. And then I hear from the other side of the wall, "The urine is coming out of my urethra. Leno was good last night" What's worse, she's the type of girl that makes a different voice for every occasion. (British) "Hello, sir, how are we today" (Ghetto) "I gave you that file, boy" (LOUD) "I told her I like pizza. PHONE BLACK".
I wonder if she gets hit at home; which, would raise the age old question, "Which came first, the hitting or the self-focused ego-building lack of confidence babble fest?". I don't condone hitting. But sometimes it's o.k. to shoot a dog.
Enough about work. That's not what defines me as a B.
I think the neighborhood kids are at the door. I'm not going to go find out. They keep asking me to come out and help fight some unruly teenagers who apparently are throwing rocks at the poor kids. I never see these kids and I don't want to start a fight. Teenagers are mean man and I might end up punching of them. "Local man beats up kids with rocks".
Right now I'm talking to some girl I used to bang; she is boring. I don't even know what she is saying. Something about boiling water and noodles. God, I've slept with some dumb girls. My brain keeps playing the "Harlem Globetrotters" theme song. She keeps asking me if I've met anyone new and I don't want to even have that conversation so I just keep saying "No". She asks if I still smoke and I don't want a lecture so I say "No". Now she's asking about my mom. Has she even met my mom? Ahhh, this is boring. More boring the that horrible movie, "Phone Booth". I need an out. Quick brain, focus.
"Brent, you are hungry."
YES! I am hungry! I need food or I will die. You don't want me to die. No, I haven't cut my hair. No, I don't remember the dinner with the birds overhead. I haven't been up to anything. I live in a box. I have no friends. I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll call you next week. No, I'm not still a liar.
Freedom. The whole point of me moving to Seattle was to de-barnacle myself. Just keep humming the Globetrotters and keep your head down when the "tentacles" (wink) of the past come up from the deeps. "Whore, she blows, c'apn" "'Tis the great white skank".
I just bitched through this entire blog. I think I'm going to go get some deli meat and make me a fatty sandwich and drink some coke. Because that's what I like to do. Let's end this on a pos note, B.
When I was a little kid I went to the zoo with my mom, my brother, my godparents and their kids. I was sitting on a wall surrounding the prairie dog pits. I was having so much fun. Until I fell in. I hit my face and all the little prairie dogs ran to their holes. As the people I was with scrambled to get the zoo workers the prairie dogs stuck their heads out, one by one. I had gained their trust by not yelling and laying completely still.
I got to go with my godfather to the world famous Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. He was an anestheologist there. I got checked out by a really pretty nurse and was giving a clean bill of health. My godfather then showed me what doctors do during a day. I got to see the operating rooms and he even gave me my very own pair of very baggy medical scrubs. I wish I still had those. And I wonder if the prairie dogs still talk about "The Day That Kid Fell In". Have a good night, dorks.
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