Welllllllllll...........'twas one of those days that's so slow you enjoy not having to think too much about anything. Nothing of genuine notation beyond a Q as to why the new saleswoman left with NotMyHusband to go to a dentist appointment during lunch hour, never to return for the rest of the day.

I'm not gonna ask.

So, since today was a bore and the company didn't lose really that much by paying my ass to keep this shed tidy, lets recap on a particular customer from yesterday...

A man came into place and ad that had, IMO a serious problem with enunciation of his words. I thought maybe this chap had finally kicked the habit of stuttering and is now just entering the world of the speaking. That was misthought #1. Then the man du jour wants to place a handyman ad for "housecleaning services". I tell him: "you need a contractors license in your ad, it's state law". He says "I don't Have the NECESSARY credentials, for WHICH I"M required to preSENT my fellow".

You're a freak. I get it. You wan't to put in an ad for your stalker ass to go vacuum for old ladies and wipe out their coffee cans of cash. Fuck you. Show Me The License! Pay up. Then I'll run your ad.

Misconception #2. I had it all wrong. Turns out the guy was a sort-of handyman, doing housecleaning FOR FUN for a legitimate cleaning service. The heavy enunciation of your words wasn't that you learned from baboons to speak, it's that it was part of your community college Theater course to spend a week "in public" talking like a freak. And you said you were 35? What fork in the road of life brought you here today? Maybe it was a knife in life and you became a splinter cell. I dunno. At least I didn't notice you were armed.

So it brings me up to today. Really nothing happened, other than sitting on my ass answering phones and using cash registers again after I swore 15 years ago at AM/PM I'd never touch one again. I guess whether the machines are made by Apple, HP, or NCR I'm always going to be pushing buttons.

Although..........I busted a 'John' today. We'll mentally anyway. 'John' meaning the type you see on COPS™. Here's the story. As I glaze out into the street taking in the sun from my window-clad domain, and graze upon my 5-pc chicken plug-it-ups from Burger King, I've notices that we've got a prostitute walking by twice a day. Twice a day now for the last 4 months. Just one. Fugly broad with a tan that dresses like a 12 year old in flip flops. So I decided I'd let this atrocity sell her wares as an attempt to make the great TV of life interesting, rather than let the Five-O in on what's going on as they drive by what must be 100 times a day. Cops can be dense too. Soooooo worried about seat belt laws that you don't see this fuck pole slithering up and down the street. And it's not like she's hiding anything. She's a whore. It's that obvious.

So as I closed out my productive sales day I took a different route home. Some city cop was toying with traffic-you know, drive 5mph over, then 5mph under then the speed limit, even tho no one's in front of him for a quarter-mile. Good thing I can set my cruise control at 29. Go ahead mr Occifer, toy with me. That got boring in 5 minutes, so's I take a left at the light. Left, down the street, right, behind the community college and STOP.
STOP MY ASS HERE. Some bozo in a white Chevy _______ license plate # ______ _____. Stops on the hill and the passenger door opens. ONE guess who CLIMBS out of the car......The same hooker I saw 20 minutes previous 2 miles away. She gets out, lights the obligatory Marlboro, and he drives off like a bat out of hell in a school zone (there's a high school next to the college...it's also a Drug Free Zone but apparently not today). I'm lauging my head off, thinking "John, if you only knew because now I DO. and I remember your license plate, and you headed down the road to the local marina...."

I really should quit this biz and become a private investigator. Debauchery has no boundaries.

Tomorrow's delivery day. We'll see what shit pops up then. Stay tuned.