EIGHT: The A.M. Version

The only instances that should EVER have me awake before noon need to involve Comic Book Conventions, Star Trek and/or Garage Sales. Since I don't see Kevin Smith, Brent Spiner or an old lady trying to charge me a buck EACH for quarter-bin comics, I have to wonder what the hell I'm doing awake at this unGAWDly hour.

Sweet Mistress Caffiene, hear my anguish! WHY OH WHY AM I AWAKE RIGHT NOW?!?!?!



======= 2 Diet Dr. Pepper's Later =======



Oh yeah... this is my new shift at work! 8 in the MORNING till 7 at night, Friday-Saturday-Sunday-Monday.

I've never seen the man personally, but I picture Steve Ray (the guy who makes up all these schedules for us at work) sitting in his office, wearing assless chaps and a zipper mask, making up these schedules. In a disturbingly falsetto voice he speaks aloud to himself "Now let me ssssssssee... whish shift would sssssssseriousssssssssly fuck with Brian's head? Mm. Mm-hm. Mha. Muha-haa! MWA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

Then he strangles another puppy so he can get an erection.