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I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else My Profile
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I returned home from work last night feeling enraged and dejected. Not quite at the whole of society but with a good proproportion of customers in my shop. For anyone who doesn't know, I work in a 'remainder' bookshop where I sport a fetching red tee which not only covers my massive behind but keeps my knees warm also. yseterday I just got so fucked off with people who either a) think working there is my life time career and talk to me as if I am simple ("You probably haven't heard of Charles Dickens but could you check your databse to see if u have any?") or b) expect that I'm graduated in every level of lierature from english lit to chick lit to shit lit and that I should not only be able to recommend a 'good read' but also be able to identify all the main themes and underlying meanings of every title. Asking someone to recommend a good book is like asking a greengrocer to recommend a good fruit or vegetable (cucumber always). As if I know what every person's preference is.
And you know what bugs me most about these ignorant 'I'm better than you' assholes? They always sneak up behind you just as you've got both your hands stuffed up your nose having a good rummage. they expect you to then show them where their chosen choice of crap is with 400 loosened boogies drippin down your lip cos you didn't get he job finished. It's even better when the pleasant little fuckers let a sly fart go and leave the shop so your collegues think you have perpetual wind. the old people are always nice. they are possibly the only people who understand the meaning of 'thank you' and 'please'. they don't wait til you've worked yourself into a sweat trying to shove 18 books 32 cards and a pogo stick into a bag before saying they don't need one. And I love those who ask you for directions and then go the opposite way cause they think you are a lying attitudinal little shop assistant who does not suit the colour red. they never trust you either. If you say 'no i don't have a book on Whoring Your Ass' they will ask every other staff member before slunking off with the regular 'sexual positions'. People who buy porn give me much amusement. one guy even went to the lengths of buying wrapping paper and sellotape with the line "it's not for me". Most porn buyers buy something classy at the same time, like a real War and Peace work of art as if to say, "Yes I'm going home for a wank but that's ok because I'm intelligent". WE sell vibrators in my work for no known reason. They cost £2 and literally fly off the shelf (especially when i leave the batteries in). I'm allowed to take readiing copies home. I wasn't allowed the vibrator and Jenny's Submissionever. As a policy I'm supposed to tell people I have put their receipt in their bag. It feels wrong saying this to porn buyers. It's like saying "please return this when you've shot your load and soiled the pages." As a novelty we also sell light up pants. A pair of these were actually returned as 'faulty'. I mean would you really return stupid pants that cost £2 cos the fanny didn't flash? These were discarded with rubber gloves and bleach, after a quick biff sniff. And so today I feel kinda awake despite being up all hours of the night (till at least 11pm) playing my my weblog (I said weblog) only to find that my stupid graphics do not in fact work. they were so pretty too, britney and holly valence and a couple others. If anyone knows how to import graphics please get in touch cos I feel a tear coming on. That tear will be cured toinght as I am finally going to c britney and I am way more than excited. the Queen of Fun felt sorry for me and has relented so I will do my best not to grope her in the cinema. Britney Wannabe 
4/11/2002 01:53:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
