thehefner | bitching

Momentary bitching on. And I am not one for bitching, but if I don't get this out, I'm a-gonna scream.

Okay, so not only am I at work alone on Wednesday, the bugfuck insane crazy day, but I have to deal with people coming in trying to buy all copies of the new CAPTAIN AMERICA, thinking it's going to be a huge collector's item. MEMO TO EVERYONE: SUPPLY AND DEMAND DO NOT WORK THAT WAY. STOP HOARDING AND ENJOY THE COMIC.

Then I had to endure not one, but two visits by this guy with freaky-long fingernails, chapped lips, untied shoes, and did I mention he fucking reeks? Seriously, I have never, ever smelled B.O. like this before. Every comic store has their Catpissman, but this guy is worse, I swear to God. Ugh! He doesn't even look homeless! What the hell is your deal, pally? What, are you a Ringwraith, and can't get near water?

And to top it all off, I have SIX boxes of UPS reorder shipment to check in! And not books in bulk, but a whole lotta little things I'm going to need to check in one by one by one!

I'm still jet lagged, I'm sick with a sore throat and stuffy nose, and shit, I'm still tender from my Seattle experience. And all I'd like to do is sit with some tea and write a long Hefner Monologue to explore these feelings, get them all out there as a whole, because just trying to talk about them individually is like a bowl of fish hooks: you pick up one and they ALL come out.

I am so not in the mood for further bullshit.

Okay. I'm breathing. Deep breaths, as best as I can through my congested and sore sinuses. Okay. Back to work. Only four more hours to go.