Sometimes, even in the life of a secret agent, life becomes ho-hum and there is just not to much to say. Such has been my life for the past two days.
The word for Tuesday night was underestimation. I went to work at the Agency thinking I was going to have a quiet night before my weekend. Of course, my night was anything but quiet. Work bordered on a near riot and I ended up battling with one guest physically and otherwise for the better part of 3 hours. Yeah...that as they say in the business, "is bullshits." That left me with just enough strength left over to finish the required paperwork with 5 minutes to spare. Not a big deal. I figured I would go and catch a midnight movie...except there are no midnight movies, unless it is a weekend or George Lucas is fucking millions of people in the ass.
So I went home, did some yoga, took a recockulously long shower and fell asleep with my imaginary girlfriend.
A mere 7 hours later my cellphone rang...of course it was work...of course I was obligated to pick it up.
El Capitan: Jim, I need you to come in for awhile. We need to talk about what went down last night.
JJ: mmmrmmph grrarh garblefruck "DAYOFF!"
El Capitan: Yeah, I know but there was some problems with protocol and we need to go over it.
JJ: rackinfrackinwhutduhKIDDING ME?!?!?!
El Capitan: See you in 30 minutes.
JJ: *Throwing phone across room* GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHFUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!
I got up, put on last nights boxers and the most fucked up outfit I could find (flip-flops, black jean shorts and a hulk-a-mania t-shirt) which I was planning on ripping off at said meeting. Long story short, everything I did was wrong and would have been so even if Christ Himself had said it was ok. So, I ate my huge bowl of, "shame banquet" and asked if I could enjoy what was left of my weekend. By a power unknown to me, I was able to leave.
These are the things that make me wish I had a normal job, with normal weekends, a normal retirement plan, a normal salary and a normal life. However the days where I go to work and don't have to be a ninja and can actually do some good for my common man, those make it all worth it...I think.
Other then that things I have observed and wonder about:
1. Why is it when I am so hungry I would eat a box of broken assholes or I am late for work or a combination of the aforementioned, my food purchases at the corner bodega are delayed by some jackhole trying to figure out which lottery #'s or scratch ticket is the luckiest. Even better still is the pillar of society who holds me up cause they are debating over what flavor of blunt wrapper would be best for breakfast. *SIGH*
"IT'S DINGLEBERRY ASSHOLE, NOW CAN YOU PLEASE GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY SO THE REST OF THE WORLD CAN BE PRODUCTIVE?"
2. The Deer Hunter: a great film or at least all 7 and a half minutes I have seen of it. Maybe if it was on at some other time besides 2:30am I would be able to see some scenes other than DeNiro and co's last day at the lava factory (or wherever it was they fucking worked) and Christopher Walken getting slapped like a bitch in Southeast Asia. When a movie starts that late and is over 3 hours long, people need to realize unless someone is unemployed, that is a movie no one will finish.
I suppose I could rent or buy it but then I wouldn't have a reason to bitch.
3. Dave Matthew's Magic Brownie Ice Cream: Hi, my name is Dave Matthew's and when I'm not busy dumping shit all over people trying to enjoy a nice boat ride, on their hard-earned vacations, I am donating all of the profits from my over-priced ice cream to prevention of global warming...
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH Boy! That's great Dave, you're the best. Too bad the hole in ozone is bigger than the chip on Dick Cheney's shoulder. I have an idea Dave. Instead of "donating" all of the profit to "the ozone layer" why don't you kick me a few hundred bucks so I can afford an air conditioner and not have to suffer through 4 months of dehydration during the lovely New England Summer. I know it gets hot on stage Dave, but some of us have jobs where we have to do shit other than wiggle our feet and talk about how much we love to smoke weed.
Enjoy your summer Dave, you granola-hottie fuckin' capitalist in disguise. Say, "Hi" to Hootie for me.