An hour early.

That’s how early I was to work. Gary pulled a fast one and scheduled me today at eleven instead of ten, which is when I’m usually scheduled. S. was already in and hard at work on the prep list, which was small because yesterday was slow, so I wound up stuck in the lobby reading a book until Gary let me come on the clock.

Thankfully, I had this book in my car, Pirate Hunter: The True Story of Captain Kid, so I wasn’t stuck bleeding my knuckles drumming out strange and unintelligeble knucklebeats on the table.

Then I made a mistake — I forgot to take the book back to my car, choosing instead to leave it next to the cash register.

Today wasn’t busy, but the delivery orders were steady, and if we hadn’t had a third driver — a third driver?! barely busy enough for two! — it probably would’ve been a decent day. I made $21. Sucks. Anyway, after I checked out, I collected the book and went out to my car where I noticed the creative changes to the text, courtesy of tape and scraps of paper.

The first, in a handwritten scrawl in blue ink, reads: “The San Francisco Chronicle Raves … 3 cocks way up“. A second reads, “Pillow biting, Rump Wrangling, Sword swallowing.”

This is what I get bringing anything with the word “pirate” on it into the store.

I keep stumbling over writing this post. So I’m just gonna bullet it.

* Zebulon’s attitude pisses me off. He barely works thirty hours a week, and he’s dragging his feet more than ever. It took him ten minutes to clean the slap table last night. He’d brush, stop, take a sigh, check his cell phone, brush, stop, sigh, check his cell phone, look out the window … it’s really getting on my nerves, particularly when he drags his feet making pizzas.

* Greg’s been getting into the habit of lecturing me on how it’s my job to “help” Zebulon clean the store. Zeb is notorious for being in the store for hours and hours after closing, probably looking out the window while checking his cell phone and sighing. I have my own cleaning to do — I’ve got to mop and do the dishes. A lot of nights (it gets busier later over the summer) I’m busting my ass just to get my stuff done, and I don’t see why I need to bust my ass twice as much to help a guy who wanders around the store like he’s in a fuckin’ coma. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll help him make pizzas and answer phones, but that’s because if I don’t, I’ll never get any deliveries.

* The business is certainly feast and famine, but this is supposed to be the feast time of the year, so why is it so fucking slow? I had twelve runs last night, and that only because:

a) I pestered Zebulon to get rid of OMF, which allowed me to take a triple
b) Refire got lost on a delivery, otherwise he woulda beaten me back and gotten the only one on the screen
c) Refire wanted to leave, so he let me take a run that woulda been his — it was a credit card order with a $7 tip. What a moron.

* There was an accident last night at Jarrettsville Pike & Manor Road, shortly after it began pouring. Without finding an article about what happened, I can tell you exactly what happened. When it first beings to rain, debris on the roadway is lifted off the surface. This provides for traction difficulties, which is why its important to be careful when it starts raining. I don’t think this individual was, which explains why a firetruck, an ambulance, and a cop car were blocking the intersection forcing me to backtrack down Jarrettsville Pike and take the long way around — Stansbury to Allison back to JV Pike.

I’m just sneaking in to say I’ve been continuing to watch BSG, the wife and I are about halfway through season one and gushing isn’t gonna cover this one. You guys have heard me gush, so it won’t have any real meaning. You have to imagine Pauline Kael bursting into song, Lionel Barrymoore In “Wonderful Life” jumping up and jitterbugging with George Bailey, the Grinch’s heart growing three sizes… you gotta start down there to explain what it feels like up here. I’ll put it simply. The show is humbling. Not since the Matrix (the first one) have I had such a strong desire to go to writing school. I think it’s so passionate, textured, complex, subversive and challenging that it dwarfs everything on TV. Or in theaters. Or boho perfomances spaces. Stuff hanging in the Tate? Not as cool. I’m not gonna go on, because I have to get back to work and because if I really start, this post will crash the internet from sheer length. Only downsides are a) I was already having a crisis of confidence, thank you very much and b) I can’t go near any Sci-Fi mags for fear of spoilers. Apart from that, life is to be loved. The Gods are to be praised. Back to the job. -j.

You really should watch it.

HT: Unofficial Battlestar Galactica blog.

Also, images of the new BSG Hasbro Titanium diecast on Rebelscum.