| I was in a bookstore the other day, bought a book called "Resumes That Knock 'Em Dead." It's supposed to help make those three days I worked the fry machine at McDonald's look good on paper. Yeah, I'm looking for a job. I hate looking for a job mainly because of the interview. They always ask the strangest questions. Questions like, "So tell me, why do you think you would like to work for us?" Well, let's see, you're right next door to my apartment, so I wouldn't have to carpool. I could sleep a little later, and it's close enough I could bring my cordless phone with me, so that I wouldn't lose any important calls. Oh yeah, and I also see that you don't make your employees wear silly hats. That's a plus. I also just basically need a job because I'm broke and my dog is threatening to leave me if I don't come up with some Puppy Chow pronto! The last interview I had, the guy surprised me by saying, "So tell me something about yourself." What? You want to know somehting about little 'ol me? Wow, it's not every day someone asks about me. Well, hmmmm......let's see, something about me. You're the first person to ask in a while......Well,.....I just stopped peeing in the bed last week That was a huge breakthrough! It wasn't that big of a deal, I already knew I was going to stop, my psychic told me. But basically what I did is, I stopped drinking all that Budweisier so late in the evening. Now, I start earlier in the afternoon. I'm single, but I do have a date this weekend with my parole officer. She's a real cutie pie. Has a gun and handcuffs and the whole works. I won't go into details here, let's just say my bedposts has some scarring. What else? I still live at home with my Mom. It's because I want to, not 'cause I have to. See, I can't cook.And she makes the best biscuits, you should come over and try one sometime. Are you busy this evening? You and my Mom might hit it off. Wouldn't that be weird, you could marry my Mom, and my new Dad would be my Boss! I could call in sick all the time. No, just kidding Dad. I'm absolutely terrified of soap. Not really so much the soap, but the thought of losing the soap so early in the relationship. Let me explain....when you first take the soap out of its package, its too big, too bulky, you can't hold onto it. It slips out of your hand, and falls down into the water. You try to catch it, but you can't. It slips through your fingers, down between your legs, around and around the drain, got it, oh no, back behind you, and then...finally you catch it, but guess what, that's right, it's mush. It squeezes through your fingers like the mud from Uncle Frank's pig farm. I'm thinking of switching to liquid soap. I really want a job, so I can afford to buy triple-ply toilet paper. I've always dreamed of it owning some, but havne't had the chance. I can only afford the single-ply, it's messy, but eventually it gets the job done. I have this bad rash on my inner thighs, can't seem to get rid of it. I've tried ointments, pills, salves, even honey. Nothing worked. Although, the dog did enjoy the honey. Come to think of it, I kind of enjoyed the dog enjoying the honey. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, me. When I was in third grade, I got a pencil eraser stuck up my nose. The doctor said it was too close to my brain to remove it. Sometimes I joke with my dog that when I sneeze, the eraser is erasing brain cells. Ha ha. that's funny!! When I was thirteen, my Uncle Bob died. Hey did you know if you spell Bob backwards, it still says Bob? And, ...and, if you spell racecar backwards, guess what? Same thing. When Uncle Bob died, they let me keep the gold from his teeth. I put it in the bank to save up for an education. Education is expensive, I guess because they have to pay for all those fishing nets the cafeteria workers wear on their heads. Fishing nets are expensive. I know, 'cause my Aunt Juanita owns a fishing boat and one time she caught a floating mine in her net. When she got in on board, it exploded. After that Aunt Juanita said Ineeda new net. Get it? Juanita said Ineeda. Ha ha ha. that's funny.... Anyway, that's all I can think of about me for now. If you give me your phone number, I'll call you if I think about something else. Hey, you wanna go get a beer? Did I tell you the about the time on the farm when I stepped on that hoe and it swung up and slammed me in my nu......what? oh, okay. Well, do I start on Monday? Copyright 2003c DavidWayne |
| David Wayne's Stuff |
| If you decide to kick the bucket, wear steel toed boots. Who wants to be dead AND have a broken toe? Plus, you'll be in a coffin, so no one can tell what kind of shoes you're wearing. So what if you're wearing a dress and boots. Who would know. At least you wouldn't have a broken toe. |
| Driving down the road, pitch black except for two weak beams of light shining out from the car, I have no idea where I am, I haven't passed any signs, well, one sign, but who eats at Denny's? Everything is so peaceful out in the desert at night. Thank goodness I caught that guy trying to steal my car stereo back at that gas station. If he wasn't screaming his head off in my trunk right now, I'd probably drift off to sleep while driving. Those last two Yoo-Hoos I drank have finally worked their way through my system, so I pull into the Texaco. Walking through the door, actually, slamming into the door, it didn't open as quick as I would have liked, I am overtaken by dizziness and the unmistakeable odor of Pine Sol disinfectant. I mumble something about the mens room, and I must have awakend the clerk when I previously slammed into the front door, because he looks at me quizzically, puts down his borrowed issue of Chunkies and Spunkies, and then nods towards the back of the store. As I'm standing in the confining stall, I look to my right, and immediately I begin wondering if Amy truly realizes how much Bubba loves her. Does she know that he takes time out of his urinating to savagely carve both of their names and a heart with an arrow through it into the bathroom stall wall. Does she know he's pretty sure it will last 4-ever? And what about Joe? Does he sit at home all day long curled up in his recliner waiting for someone to call him just because he carved his name and phone number on a stall? So I'm outside on the phone with Joe, or actually Joyce, as it turns out he likes to be called, when the screams from my trunk start up again......I tel Jo....Joyce, that I'll call them later, and back off to the lonely highway with a fresh Yoo-Hoo, a bag of Fritos and a cry-baby in the trunk........ |
| (Even More Crap) |