I am finally home at 1:30 am on Friday after a long and exhausting Thursday.
QR Code Link to This Post
This morning I woke up tired. My cat is in heat and was wailing all night long, and since I knew this would keep me up I decided to masturbate to facilitate sleep. When I was sixteen and living with my father and stepmonster in Barrington we had this housecleaner who was in her early thirties. She had instructions from the monster not to let me sleep late in the summers and impede her vacuuming schedule, so she would knock on my door and I would pretend to be asleep. Invariably I'd be nursing an erection and leave it exposed in the hopes of turning her on to sex. This never happened but has fueled a tremendous amount of masturbation over the years, both furtive and not. So last night, as the cat roamed our house moaning and crying in her own swollen frustration, I proceeded to not orgasm during three full hours of arm numbing and cock chaffing futility. Around four o'clock I called it quits.
At 7 my alarm went off and I went to take a shower. The paperboard ceiling in my bathroom has been growing mushrooms in one wet corner for almost a month because the upstairs toilet leaks and I haven't gotten around to fixing it. Apparently last night it decided to drop. In the shower. Down with it came two (2) scorpions. They both went into the scorpion jar.
Since I couldn't take a shower with all that crap in the stall, I skipped it and just got dressed. I haven't done laundry this week so I put on some clothes I wore on Sunday for a cookout. This attire was essentially inappropriate for work, but I figured no one would notice.
Wrong. My supervisor pulled me aside and asked if I was doing all right because I looked like maybe I needed to get myself together. And that I should consider dressing more appropriately for work. And that it was company policy to keep facial hair trimmed and neat. And that the boss was asking questions about my productivity, which is typically above par but reviews are next week and I got a funny feeling I was being written up.
There is a girl who works near me who never talks to anyone. She sticks to herself at lunch and almost never makes any sort of eye contact or attempt at interaction. Today at a staff meeting the manager asked her to act as a de-facto minutes taker, I think to open her up. She was so intimidated and awkward that a few minutes into the meeting the manager told her to hand the oversized workpad to a coworker because we needed to speed things up. Someone snickered and I guess she thought it was me, because she glared my way and later on came by my desk and spoke to me for the first time in two years of working together. She said "At least I'm not fat." And I think she said "asshole" as she walked away.
Around 3 I had to take a dump but I couldn't get away from my phone. Finally about a quarter to four I made it to the bathroom and was shitting before could sit down. When I was done I pulled up my pants and they were wet because someone had either pissed on the floor at the base of the toilet or the toilet had a bad seal and was leaking. Either way, I had to go back to my desk with a big wet behind. My friend noticed and told our other friend about it. About 10 minutes later I got paged over the intercom. Since I had to walk through the entire office to answer the page, I pulled my shirt out of my pants to hide the stain. I could tell word had spread because people were craning their necks to watch me pass and smiling. I got the "tisk-tisk" finger scrape from a coworker, though I'm not sure what I was supposed to get from that. On my way back to the desk my manager pulled me aside again and less gently than before reminded me about office attire. I tried to tell him about my predicament but he wasn't listening. I think I need to start looking for a new job.
After work I stopped off at a clothing store to buy some new slacks because I was going out to a party and had pissy pants. My card was declined after waiting in line for 20 minutes while a trainee learned the ins and outs of retail cash registering. The woman behind me was in a rush because when I tried for the third time to run my card (I KNEW there was money in my account) she said so. I told her she could pay for my shit if she wanted to get out of there sooner. My card finally worked (why I don't know) and I went to the mall bathroom to change.
The pants were too big and I didn't have a belt, so I tried rolling the waist up a couple of times to keep them from falling down. This worked, and since they were a little too long in the leg, it wasn't really noticeable, as long as I kept my shirt untucked.
At the gathering I struck up a conversation with this CUTE girl, who turned out to be married but I wouldn't have known because she wasn't wearing a ring. I only found out later because my buddy told me she had commented that I seemed like I was leering at her and didn't I know that her husband was at the party. I wasn't really leering as much as I was hoping she thought I was cute and might be interested in me. I guess that shows how self-aware I am.
Now, I don't drink anymore because I have a problem with alcohol. It makes me want to keep drinking and then I change and usually do or say things that catch up with me later. Occasionally I'll smoke some pot, but that's rare too these days because it tends to make me paranoid and insecure. A bunch of people were smoking a joint on the balcony so I went out there to check it out, but decided not to smoke. About fifteen minutes later the police knocked on the apartment door because someone in the complex had either seen or smelled the marijuana. They didn't come in and didn't really hassle the party, but I figured once the cops were there it was only a matter of time before they came back, and since I was tired I decided to leave.
On my way out of the complex I got pulled over. The cops asked me if I was coming from that party and I said I was. They asked for my license and proof of insurance, then went back to the cruiser to run them. When they returned, I was asked to step out of the vehicle and escorted to the rear of my car. The one cop asked if I had been drinking and I said no, I don't drink. He asked why, and I said because I choose not to. This seemed suspicious to him, not because he thought I was lying but because I suppose he couldn't fathom why someone would not drink alcohol. The other cop asked me if I had been smoking any drugs and I said I had not. He asked me if I "smoked drugs" and I said I do not. About this he was suspicious not because he couldn't fathom someone not smoking drugs but apparently because he thought I was lying.
The first cop asked me for my social security number. I said I was not prepared to offer that because it was unnecessary for him to have that information when he has my ID and insurance papers. This must have pissed him off because he got in my face with the flashlight and said he could demand any form of identification necessary to execute his duties. I said it was a moot point because I could not remember the number, which is true, at which point he asked for a consent to search my vehicle. I stated I did not consent to a search, which is when he strangely decided to back off. His partner, though, informed me that "for your own safety" he was asking me to place my hands on the trunk of my car, spread my feet, and submit to a pat down. Since it was clear I had no choice I spread 'em, and as he patted me down he must have felt the rolled up waistband of my too big new slacks. Assuming he had found my stash, he proceeded to unroll my waistband and tug at my pant leg, at which point my trousers fell down to my ankles, revealing no drugs but only my day old boxers with the yes/no pattern. The "no"'s are in red to be seen in the light. The "yes"'s are glow in the dark. So there I was, spread eagle over the trunk of my car, two cops staring in disbelief at my dropped trou and glowing "yes" trunks. They let me go with no apology.
When I finally got home, a while ago now, my cat was still howling for kitty sex. I took a shower anyway, sopping paperboard ceiling and all, then checked my scorpion jar. They were still alive but not moving much. I think I will spend the weekend looking for a couple of black widow spiders for them to fight. You know, the black widow spider always wins against a scorpion, even as small as it is. She leaps over the scorpion's back and ties up his tail with her spinnerets. But she never bites him. She's only interested in finding a way out.