I find this hard to believe, you may feel the same way: I make $22 an hour dishwashing at a restaurant in NE Minneapolis, I make $18 an hour as a barista downtown, I make $100 dollars an hour modeling, and I make a priceless amount of dollars an hour writing, yet I still have internal conflict about getting a real job.
What is a real job you ask?
As Aaron inquires, “What is a real job, and what is a fake job?” I’ll tell you what its not, it’s not a handjob, or a blowjob. It’s the opposite.
Real or fake, it’s going to, at some point suck, and, your job, it’s going to, at some point, take up most of your time. And, in all honesty, it’s not going to get you off, physically or mentally. Or maybe it will.
But with necessity comes necessity.
Question: What is Smoking?
Answer: It’s kind of like smoking. Um, it’s kind of like fire.
You realize how inconvenient smoking is in the winter months, when the temperature drops below freezing; it’s soooo cool, in a sense, to keep puffing, chasing that ember. However, the only good time to have a cigarette is right after sex.
5 minutes after sex, no later.
After that it’s not cool.
A lot of people are breaking this rule.
We know who you are, virgin smokers. You are 15 years old, semi-thru puberty, trendy, and you are smoking cigarettes, how cool, but you are breaking the 5 minute rule.
Stop doing that.
Question: Who is really a Smoker?
Answer: I notice people are prone to smoke after they eat and/or after they have sex. Why not kill two birds with one stone, just go down on your girlfriend more during sex. Then the cigarette will truly be worth that extra effort. And you might catch more smiles from the ole’ lady.
Take care of your health, guard your skill sets, and extend the amount of things you have working knowledge of.
Question: What is a Working Knowledge?
Answer: A Working Knowledge: is a minute of nonstop dialogue on information regarding a single specific topic (of your choosing); something you have knowledge of. A working knowledge will set you apart from your competitors.
Question: What is a day, and what is the other day?
Answer: The other day, upon coming into work, my manager asked me, “Was it nice and hard this morning? …” To which I looked at her and said nothing in response, I could only smile. I could have told her, ‘Yes, it was unusually hard and nice this morning.’ However, I didn’t. She looked at me and promptly looked at the countertop, she then turned and walked away. She went into her office to rephrase the question. The cold meds had apparently affected her cognition. Throughout the day she was congested.
Hey, I don’t blame her she asks pretty awesome questions.
My Real Life Happenings:
At my dishwashing gig, I was literally almost driven to tears by a breakage in the water hose at the dish sink. The sprayer was fucked; the new guy had ruined all of said sprayer’s magic: it’s hose. The situation was grim; I was trying to stay dry and it was around 10 degrees outside, and windy.
The hose was spraying me from head to toe with cold and hot water at random intervals, making it impossible to block the errant droplets. Even a Ninja couldn’t have avoided such spurts. The hose was basically jizzing water on me: It hit my face, my stomach, my arms and legs, and even my feet; a full frontal, as one would say.
And, here, I was thinking about my lengthy bike ride home.
Already, only after an hour of scrubbing and spraying, I was soaked to the bone. I was defeated. This plastic hose, with the help of some water, and the new guy, had ruined my day, and almost my life.
It wasn’t the fact that I was dishwashing (because I love scrubbing bubbles all over dirty plates) that was ruining my life, it was the fact that this plastic hose was broken and making me cold and wet.
I had lost all hope.
And then… I came up with a brilliant solution to combat this inopportune water-works extravaganza; to which, I found a plastic garbage bag, I thought I could just put it over my head for a long enough period of time and end it all right here, but then I came up with an even better solution (mind you, suicide is not an option, it is merely a joke in this post, and in real-life). I ripped the garbage bag down the seams, doubling the bag’s length (perfect for my front), and then I stuck my head through a small whole at one end and pulled my face through (this is what it must feel like to be a penis ripping through, and breaking, a condom).
What had I become?
I stood, center kitchen, wearing my new raincoat triumphantly. I had defeated the water hose, and my impending doom; which was my bad attitude. The boss came by and said, “You are smart.”
I stood there, in all my glory, already soaked, but preventing future seepage, and I thought, if only she knew how vastly…
(How does the Universe work?)
I thought I was going to have to quit.
But right before that happened the universe aligned before my very eyes and everything was right where it was supposed to be.
It was in front of me to see.
On the same day, my other manager asked me how much money I make at my other job. To which I replied, “Nothing, they don’t pay me anything; I work there for free, that is why I am broke. I’d work here for free, but you insist on paying me.”
I realized right after I said this that I probably wasn’t going to get a raise. I should have said a higher number, like 1. I should have been less realistic. The low-ball technique did not pan out. I found out in that very second that she was not going to give me a raise.
Maybe she thought I was being sarcastic.
Question: What are Muffin-tops?
Answer: The other night I was reading and listening to my friend conversing on the phone. It sounded like she was doing a lot of consoling. I enjoy people with empathy. Later upon inquiry, my friend told me her friend was upset about her body. She had gained a few pounds over the last couple months. I kind of shook my head and thought, wow, a body-image issue.
I go through those a lot.
I can completely relate.
Question: What is Hibernation?
Answer: Winter is a bitch, she will make you stay inside and eventually, and inevitably you will become sedentary, lazy, and accumulate a few pounds.
(Inactive, incase any of you were looking for that in the dictionary.)
Bears do it and no one gives a fuck.
Maybe more people need to take walks or go on bike rides in the snowy months of the year. I thought of a quick way for her friend to lose that muffin-top, I told her to tell her friend to just drop her pants…
Poof! And it’s gone.
Question: What is truly awesome apathy?
Like in fight club. Its not about the punches you throw, or winning or losing. It’s about the idea of not caring about actually getting into a fight. It’s the idea that you just did what felt right. Nothing more. The idea that in life there is nothing to lose. Do what you will.
Answer (from Who is really a Smoker?): Smoking: I say I don’t smoke, because I don’t buy cigarettes. I should say I don’t buy cigarettes. It is apparent that I smoke when I go to the doctor’s office. I can’t seem to lie, mostly, to physicians. I have an issue; I have to be honest whenever I am questioned by a licensed M.D. The only good thing that visiting the doctor’s office does to me, is it helps me understand, pointedly, that I have a disease: its called being human. And now I realize I have a problem with not buying cigarettes.
I walk out of work. I am downtown. I realize I want a cigarette, but I don’t want to buy a pack of smokes. I watched for the nearest smoker, hoping they will have empathy on my cravings. I saw a good-looking middle-aged woman walking towards me, unlit cigarette in hand, strutting like she was on the cat-walk, and I said, “Hey, ma’am, can I bum a smoke?” To which she turned and looked in my direction. I was listening to Queen and walking my bike while wearing snowboarding goggles, I was bundled to the max. She stared, I pulled out an ear-bud and she walked near where I stood. She looked at me without a word and put the cigarette in her mouth, she pulled up her lighter and flicked a flame. She looked into my eyes. I looked back. Her eyes were a dark green. She pulled at the smoke with her lips, sucking in hard, and letting out one single puff. She smiled and passed me the cig and turned. Cigarette in hand, I stood in between the tallest buildings in the city. I watched her walk away, smoke drifting in the wind. I yelled, “Thanks, you are amazing!” As she turned the corner, she looked back and smiled. I think she knew that she had just stolen five minutes of my life…
What is doing something and actually doing something?
Answer: A man can say he is a construction worker if he is a construction worker, not necessarily if he sits in his house, or his back yard, and drills rocks with a sledgehammer, even if he is wearing fluorescent orange.
A story II:
I mean, the biker hit hard; he hit that solid brick-wall snow-shit that builds up on the side of the road. Even if he were wearing a helmet at the time he would still be drinking out of a straw.
Packer fans: Tender, pitiful, amnesiacs. Sore losers. Aggressively obnoxious and out of control, when I see them I wonder who let them out of their cages. What the fuck?
Weather or not it matters… I take the weather like I take my women: 40 will do. After being in sub-zeros for the last couple of weeks, and forecasted in the sub-zeros in the fore coming weeks, I believe 40 degrees is an excellent temperature.
Question: What are Cellular Phones?
Answer: We, as a population have an issue with cell phones, and the need for constant interaction. We are semi-famous on Facebook and Twitter. We care more about texting than safe driving.
The world could end if your battery goes dead. People lose sleep waiting for that recognition. A co-worker told me that I was a jerk for not answering a text that she had sent me at 2 am… She was staring at me, and I noticed. The look on her face either said, I want to blow you, or I want to kill you.
I felt in my pocket for my phone, it had been vibrating for at least 5 seconds. I felt around anxiously, with much effort, and then I realized I left my phone in my bag. My bag was in the bathroom. I have a problem too…
My co-worker kept staring at me.
Astonishingly, last night, I received a text from a distant friend, a friend whom I haven’t seen in, it must be 3 years. A friend I met and hung out with less than a few times. He is a great kid, but I received this text and I was completely baffled, the text read, “You are the man.” I had no idea what to think, I said he was the man back.
What is the man? Is it existing, is it doing what you are told, is it fitting into a mold, is it doing whatever you want? I think being the man is being around people you love. I think being the man is about how good you make people feel.
And I think Andrew is the man, even if he thinks he is not, because he reaches out and tells people what he thinks.
A few words-a description of who that person was to them. I felt the emotion. I enjoyed the text. We had a short conversation and I wished him well. Usually being the man is a bad thing…
The best thing I heard today was from John, he told me, “When I am not at work I think about what I have to do to not come back to work, and I do it.”
I find these words to be truly inspiring, in that, he is passionate about something other than the daily grind, and if we do the daily grind too much it might grind us smooth. We might lose our grit, our passion, our creativity, and our hope of getting on to doing something we truly enjoy. Whether it is farming, marketing, policing, or bettering society as a whole.
Realistically, if we just do something we truly love we might find that behavior asserted into our life permanently, into the blank spot where it says job title, into what is truly our personality.
I ponder and I think.
We all need to keep trying, that is why our heart keeps beating.
I think some more.
And I can’t believe I make so much at my fake jobs…