The Demonweasel Speaks

So, another day off with not that much done thus far. I blame it on the fact that my coffee maker is totally fucked up and thus, I don’t have the basic fuel I need to even attempt to function in the first few hours after waking up. Thankfully, I’ve gotten the dirty-dirty on how to fix it, what with the vinegar and the flushing and the GLAVEN!, so I should be square by tomorrow a.m.

I totally hate Chapter 12. Chapter 12, surely, is the devil. Hopefully, I’m getting through all the ass-tastic parts of the book and will be moving into the parts where I can just do basic editing and cleaning and buffing and polishing and all that jazz. Chapter 12, sadly, you have to take the Vietnam approach, so in order to save the chapter, we must burn the chapter. I’m going to kinda sorta switch gears and try to get some of the comic shorts I’m working on to a point where I can actually try to solicit someone to draw them. One is pretty much done, except for some polishing; one is stalled halfway, but easily fixed; and the most recent just needs to be gotten out onto paper and see what happens.

The highlights of those? AS FOLLOWS!

- Supernatural adventure
- Schoolgirl outfits
- Nazis
- Evil Cheerleaders
- A RUN-DMC speed-metal cover band
- Guns
- Kung Fu
- names like Harris, Harmony, Lennox, Lukasz, Fee, Fie and Fumm
- “Demonic ritual, Starscream? This is bad comedy.”

AND THAT’S JUST FOR STARTERS!

So we’ll see how that goes.

I decided the other day that I need a t-shirt that says “Just because I work retail doesn’t mean I give a shit.” If any of you have worked retail, you know that there is this phenomenon that makes people want to just talk to you, like you’re a bartender or some sort of therapist. People need to understand that the reason why I’m standing there and not just walking away or telling them to leave me alone is because *they pay me to stand there!* I had a guy ask me yesterday “If I could do anything or go anywhere tomorrow, what would I do?” Yeah, random people don’t get an answer to that question. My current person can ask me that question, and I’ll answer them, but not some guy who just wants to chat five minutes past closing.

Of course, these are the people that say things like “Oh, if I’m bothering you or whatever, just let me know, because otherwise I’ll just talk forever.” What a fabulous way to abdicate responsibility for your own actions. I had an employee several years ago that said that she didn’t care she smelled like roadkill (because she hadn’t showered or done laundry in years, it seemed) because if someone doesn’t like it, it’s *their* problem. So by that logic, just do whatever you want, and if someone has a problem with that, they just have to tell you. If someone is in a situation wehre they aren’t comfortable with telling you exactly what they feel, or where it’s thier job to not be an asshole to someone, then you’ve hit the jackpot and wear that person down to a nub like a golf pencil.

Yes, I suppose there is a middle ground to that sort of thing, and yes, I did mention a situation recently where some freakshow was yammering my ears off and I blamed myself for not sufficiently making clear my desire for said freakshow to take a long walk of a short pier, but still…where do these people come from? What emptiness drives them to such horrid depths, such low lows?

I guess the sad part is that we’ve all done it to someone at some point, inevitably. It’s like cutting someone off in traffic. You hate it, but at some point, accidentally, we all do it.

So yeah, for those keeping score at home: *still* in love with the Eminem album (don’t be hatin’!) and I’m still rockin’ the Jay-Z/Linkin Park songs. Because they are good, no matter what people (current or otherwise), say. It’s just true. Not everyone’s cuppa, but still worth existing, mos’ def.

So it looks like my coffee maker is working. W00t.

Can I get an encore, do you want more? Cookin’ raw with the Jersey boy, so for one last time I need you to roar. What the hell are you waiting for? After me there should be no more, so make some noise.

I’m not okay (I promise), and I remain…

P.S. Ma, it’s a song. I *am* okay. Honest.