thecommonthread

The Common Thread
2003-07-17 14:28:12 (UTC)

motherfucker

the other night, i had a few too many glasses of wine and i
remember sitting here typing an entry. i don't, however,
remember what happened to that entry because it sure as
hell wasn't posted. shame, my soul must have been spread
like butter all over that window and you wonderful people
didn't get the chance to sneak a peek.

i think there is a line between working and working way too
hard. i think that when you reach that point of seeing
your coworkers more than your own mother, you have crossed
that line. i mean, you do want to see your mother every
once in a while, right? you want to spend as much time as
possible hearing about her day, catching up on the good
times, right?

unless, of course, your mother comes straight home from a
day at work and goes BACK out with some hick-ish delivery
man with tight jeans and a beer gut. fabulously classy.

and isn't that awesome when he seems like a typical
subscriber of child-pornography, yet he has made himself so
comfortable within the walls of your house? i look at his
face and i wonder how many of those teeth really belong to
him. i see his stone-washed jeans and i think about how
many tens of years ago those went out of style. perhaps he
owns the last pair?

despite my adamant disapproval, the nameless delivery truck
remains parked at the curb in front of the house, trying to
hide in the shade of our tree. the tree that has shaded
our lives for the past 7 years. bullshit. i will cut that
damn thing down.

god if i hear that twangy, unnecessary "how you doin'?" one
more time, i will cut him. i can't take this. there was a
reason i slept everyday in mrs. gambrell's class and it
wasn't because i was tired.

now, while my mother stands making coffee in the kitchen, i
will dart past her to the back door and be on my way to the
job. funny how that works out...




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