In this, our inaugural edition of PB Fixes the World, we take a look at the Middle East and sort that whole situation out.
Iraq? It’s fiiiiiiiine. Let’s just get our troops outta there, order a country-wide media blackout on any and all news coming out of that soon-to-be-forgotten experiment and encourage a coalition of the willing to do the same. Out of sight, out of mind. Problem? Solvified.
Iran has proven to be a pesky issue now and then, the rat-prick bastards. You wanna know how to deal with them? Screw the sanctions, son. Let’s have our CIA boys institute a little bit of what *I* call “Regime Change”. Get rid of the dude we hate, put in the dude we like. That’ll work…. right?
Last up? Israel and Palestine. This one’s easy. I say kick ‘em ALL out and move in some Mexicans. Those people LOVE to migrate. And the quality of their work? Second to some. They’re a perfect fit for the Holy Land.
That’ll about do it. Next time: PB Fixes the World tackles the financial crisis.
things have been strange lately. not proud of the way i’ve handled what’s come my way. not happy with my overall inability to pull myself out of my funk. it comes and it goes and when it comes it won’t go away. in these times i hate everyone and everything, especially myself. and it isn’t fun. it isn’t who i want to be. but have i ever really been anyone else? aren’t i just a miserable bastard at my core? in these times one theme resonates through my head.
i just want to disappear.
but here i am. and there i’ll be, once more.
until then, misery loves company. please tell me jeff or ally have a tale of THEIR torment to share.
it has been a years-long internal struggle contemplating just HOW to approach this. how to word it.
i have to admit that dealing with lottery and scratch off tickets is the most frustrating part of my job.
well…
geez…
that was easier than i thought.
it’s not JUST that repeat scratch off customers are degenerate losers. state-sanctioned gambling encourages the lower class to stay there. it inspires ignorance, attracts the grimy and the smelly, and routinely ruins my day.
i sit here in wonder of just WHAT i might be able to truly accomplish in a day if i WASN’T getting Ralphie his $1 Loose Change every three minutes for three and a half hours. And when Ralphie wins, he never keeps the winnings. No. Ralphie’s looking for the big one. He “re-invests”. Ralphie is a smart businessman.
Odds are that Ralphie will still be looking for the big one tomorrow and that I will be looking for a polite way to deal with him. Repeatedly. For hours.
My favorite, if I can share further, is when — after Ralphie’s normal 10-1 shift — I look up from making coffee or sandwiches to discover that Ralphie is actually pulling a DOUBLE that day, working a 3-5. Always a trooper. Always borderline pathetic.
Imagine the marketing and sampling of our products I could do if I DIDN’T have Ralphie on my instant-payroll! Would we make up in NEW sales due to higher overall standards and service what we LOST in Lotto/Instant Ticket revenue? I don’t know.
But I volunteer for trying.
Think about the message of care and concern for the pocketbooks of their customers the company would show if they decided to pull all of it from their stores. Would they lose some customers? Sure. But they would gain OTHER business.
Am I crazy?!?
Yes. I am alive.
Just fulfilling my yearly quota for unexplained abscences. We’re nearly there.
More to come.
Maybe.
i am.
(and maybe the comedian, too.)
alicia and i had big plans for the day (big plans for us). she was going to get her (dream) futon. and i would pick up something eerily similar to #2 on my wishlist.
futon? no problem. flat screen tv? issue.
seems that my debit card, which represented an account with nearly triple the amount i’d be charging to it in this transaction … denied me. and the atm’s wouldn’t cooperate w/ my wish of a large withdrawal either. so, in the end, it was my dreams which were withdrawn, for the evening. and we were off back to our home to grudgingly put together this “wonderful” futon my lady had spent her hard-earns on.
only, honey, it’s too big. for our tiny apartment. so. several hours, and the removal of our oversized sofa (out the tiny door and down our tiny stairs and resting near it’s stoop like trailer folk), our apartment is in an utter state of upheaval.
we ate dinner on the floor, indian style, sweaty and exhausted. like, i imagine, indians might.
not how i envisioned the evening would “progress”.
stay tuned. tomorrow i’ll write about how disappointed i am after buying what will likely be the shittiest flat-screen HD television set w/ stand imagineable.
sorry things here and there have been quiet. work keeps me insanely busy when i’m not busy i’m tired.
things are decent. no complaints.
carry on with your lives.
blah.
One week in at the new location. Overall, it’s been really good. Much busier than I am accustomed to after Marion Ave and Vosburgh Rd, but the pace has kept me on my toes and constantly thinking. As the busiest gas store in the company, it’s wild to see me UP in gallons sold against the previous week by around 600, yet DOWN over 10G’s in gas sales due to the dramatic drop in prices seen this week.
Rowland Street is one of eight or nine locations that offers a full deli; sliced meats, salads, fresh-made subs and sandwiches. Add to that the “huge gas shop” factor, and the store is an absolute challenge. The foundation of the staff is decent. Again, like the store, there is a TON of potential there. I just need to make the most of it. It’s, at times, so scary-busy and intense that I worry about keeping a handle on EVERYTHING at once.
I suppose it’s a skill that’s developed over time?
Hoping that’s the case, I’ll keep plugging away. So far it’s been mostly fun. Check back in w/ me in a few weeks, hehe.
ally. you will appreciate this.
or else.
was cleaning off the backside of my tobacco cabinet, by my desk — an out of sight area which easily lended itself to collecting dust, unused signs, “lost and found” stuff (three pairs of sunglasses, a grungy wristwatch, cheap earrings, a few keys), all of which had been up there, also collecting dust, for nearly a year. into the trash it all went.
underneath it all, covered in a dust of it’s own was a lone receipt for a 3 dollar gas transaction dated for 12/18/07. examining it closer I saw that I had rang the transaction through, which made me stop. HAD to have been when ‘d JUST been sent to that store. Maybe even my first week as manager?
I grab the binder w/ all of ’07’s schedules and payroll info (check out Mr.Organized, over here) and look-up 12/18. It was a Tuesday. My SECOND day as Manager of the Vosburgh Road location.
…i discovered this receipt on my SECOND-to-last day as Manager of the Vosburgh Road location.
…creepy.
got an email from Ally this morning. enclosed was a video performance of a song she’d just (?) written. it inspired me! so i sat down, determined to write something of my own. maybe even film it and send it to her — get something neat going, maybe.
and things were clicking! capo on the 5th. D chord followed by some weird Gm-variant, some silly finger-stuff thrown in there of course. sorta was feeling out a melody. could sorta hear a bassline, maybe some organs or something back there? maybe? ok. maybe i wouldn’t film this. maybe i’d have to record it. yeah, then i’d–
–break a fucking string.
*sigh*
the rhythm is lost in my head. i’ve got the germ of the first chord progression in my head. but the weight of it is gone.
for now!
my vacation begins tomorrow (today!) … and i’ll be picking up strings tomorrow. i’ve been inspired, dammit.
