Sunday, June 26, 2005
On a Lighter Note
Yeah, looking over my recent posts, they definitely seem to toe to a pretty grim line in their general tone.
That shit is very un-dude.
So, lest anyone be falsely impressed with the notion that I am no longer digging the spirit of silly/stupid fun, I give you yet another candidate for my attendance violation hall-of-fame.
This story starts Friday night, which is my scheduled poker night.
Traditionally, my poker games involve heavy drinking, hard drugs, and savage losses. This Friday though, I managed to swing the prior pair without falling victim to the latter - a rare feat indeed.
After 4 hours of gaming I was up $28 dollars, down six pints, and ankle deep in a gram, chased with the occasional pill bump. And that just brings us up to 11:00pm.
After the game, I was in a sprightly mood to say the least. For the last four weeks I have been locked into a vicious loosing streak that has left me mourning $180 dollars, gone and lost from my barren pockets. Aside from the rebound factor, this small victory was even sweeter given my present financial situation, which is dire indeed, so much so that my first thought of the fresh bills in my pocket was "now I'll be wiping my ass with toilet paper again" = 'nough said.
Fast forwarding now, past 5 blurry incomprehensible hours, we come - 3 pills later - to 4:00am Saturday morning, when it suddenly strikes me that it might be a "good idea" to do a few quick lines as a night cap.
One of the dangerous curveballs that coke can throw you, is that when you get really fucked up, and take it over the top, your shnozz can get so clogged up, that instead of absorbing the product, it just packs up, and then is slowly absorbed into your membranes as your sinuses gradually clear out.
Well, this is the cruel fate that befell me Saturday morning, and all that I could think as I tossed and turned at eight in the morning was "son of a bitch!"
Given that I had to be at work by 1:30pm, my alarm was set for 11:30, which ironically, was about the time that I finally fell asleep.
I finally started awake about 10 minutes after the start of my shift, and promptly called in to let my management know that i would be a little late. (an hour an fourty-five minutes to be exact.)
When I got to work, I slid into my desk and took two calls before taking my first scheduled break, on which I gulped down several cups of coffee, and then returned to my desk where I took about 40 calls from pissed off customers calling in about a nationwide outage that was preventing them from receiving any incoming calls.
I have to say, it is a credit to my deft customer skills, or possibly my heartless and callous lack of empathy, that I didn't issue a single credit for the loss of service in the entire day.
Or maybe it was just because I was too fucking lazy to write the memos.
That shit is very un-dude.
So, lest anyone be falsely impressed with the notion that I am no longer digging the spirit of silly/stupid fun, I give you yet another candidate for my attendance violation hall-of-fame.
This story starts Friday night, which is my scheduled poker night.
Traditionally, my poker games involve heavy drinking, hard drugs, and savage losses. This Friday though, I managed to swing the prior pair without falling victim to the latter - a rare feat indeed.
After 4 hours of gaming I was up $28 dollars, down six pints, and ankle deep in a gram, chased with the occasional pill bump. And that just brings us up to 11:00pm.
After the game, I was in a sprightly mood to say the least. For the last four weeks I have been locked into a vicious loosing streak that has left me mourning $180 dollars, gone and lost from my barren pockets. Aside from the rebound factor, this small victory was even sweeter given my present financial situation, which is dire indeed, so much so that my first thought of the fresh bills in my pocket was "now I'll be wiping my ass with toilet paper again" = 'nough said.
Fast forwarding now, past 5 blurry incomprehensible hours, we come - 3 pills later - to 4:00am Saturday morning, when it suddenly strikes me that it might be a "good idea" to do a few quick lines as a night cap.
One of the dangerous curveballs that coke can throw you, is that when you get really fucked up, and take it over the top, your shnozz can get so clogged up, that instead of absorbing the product, it just packs up, and then is slowly absorbed into your membranes as your sinuses gradually clear out.
Well, this is the cruel fate that befell me Saturday morning, and all that I could think as I tossed and turned at eight in the morning was "son of a bitch!"
Given that I had to be at work by 1:30pm, my alarm was set for 11:30, which ironically, was about the time that I finally fell asleep.
I finally started awake about 10 minutes after the start of my shift, and promptly called in to let my management know that i would be a little late. (an hour an fourty-five minutes to be exact.)
When I got to work, I slid into my desk and took two calls before taking my first scheduled break, on which I gulped down several cups of coffee, and then returned to my desk where I took about 40 calls from pissed off customers calling in about a nationwide outage that was preventing them from receiving any incoming calls.
I have to say, it is a credit to my deft customer skills, or possibly my heartless and callous lack of empathy, that I didn't issue a single credit for the loss of service in the entire day.
Or maybe it was just because I was too fucking lazy to write the memos.
