My boss tried getting some kind of something out of me yesterday. Not sure what that was about. Forty-five minutes culminating in, " Face it George, we work in a fucking grocery store." Go team. I love it when management "handles" me. The "fucking grocery store" hasn't been very communicative lately. Tough to decide if it's the people I work for or the corporate climate they aspire towards perpetuating. Guess there's no difference. I don't think I've ever felt so much like chattle as I do working there now. Go team.


Think I'll start my own foo-foo farm and boutique-y restaurant. "Small or large?" "You want chiz on dat?" Or maybe just sell all my belongings on eBay. Anybody want to make an offer on my pink 1985 Hosoi Hammerhead? I 've been back on the bike lately so perhaps winning the Tour de France is a good idea. Wait. I know. I'll write hit songs.

Got work to do..................