Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Take Thou Job and Shove Thy, Part 2

Skipping work again.
God, I hate my fucking job...
I also hate the fact I'm being some kind of a lazy ass, and justifying being lazy with the whole 'I hate my job' excuse.
If it were up to me, I'd run my own business of vegan catering.
But that would mean taking a business course, getting certified, learning the 'art of presentation' and many other things which require money.
I have to work for money. At a job I hate.
{Vicious Circle time!)
I never have wanted to become a cook.
I like cooking, dont get me wrong, but that's just the thing: I like it.
To turn something into a job is to make it the enemy.
I know Andrew McIllroy stated to 'never make the building/schedual the enemy', but then again, he'd shuffle into Starbucks at night, and spew a plummel of exausted aggitation about having to teach at another place till midnight.
Meh. He's a great man, so I'm not going to point out the whole hipocritical viewpoint.
My job is getting easier since they've began training me. (Gee...That only took three months!)
But it's just the whole repeatitive nature, plus making an indecent wage $9.00. Immigrants make more.
Our Supervisior is very overworked, nobody ever really knows what's going on, and the whole merchandising department is opperating miles apart from everyone else.
That and everybody in the store, including the new people, are making more than I am.
Why this is, I have no idea.

Craigslist Time, again.

Speaking of job woes, I saw a picture of my old roomate on craigslist, who's now in New Zealand, working as a prostitute.
She did the same thing when she was here, but I was glad she was living with me and not in a brothel somewhere.
I was always very nervous that her body would end up in Coal Harbour or False Creek.
She's come home and tell me about all the guys she'd service.
God I'd wish they'd legalize prostitution already!
Sure, these fucking pseudo-hippies can block victory square for hours about 'Freeing Marc Emery!' or other shit, but I have yet to meet any young people who will put their time towards prostitutes.
Oh yeah, that's right....Prostitutes arent really people. I forgot.
They cant be grinded up, put into bags, unless you're Robert Pickton... smoked, and make you do stupid shit.
Anybody who gives me that 'It's their choice' attitude can stick it up their ass.
You think someone just gets up one day and decides "Hey, I'm going to go sell my body, risk my life, and begin a life-long addiction!" just for something to do?!
No. This isnt 'choosing' between Cookie Dough Icecream or Peanut Butter Icecream.
It's (for lack of a better term) choosing to make money the only way you know how to, so that your body doesnt go into entrapedic shock from withdrawl, possibly risking a heart attack, or eating another day.
The Sex these women are having isn't passion infused either.
Nobody's in love. You're on something, a guy is punching you in the face, doesnt care about how much it hurts when he's fucking you, and hey, maybe he has a gun and might shoot you! Who  knows!
These women have the self esteem of chewed gum on the sidewalk.
What's worse, is that in Vancouver, people would rather clean up the gum.

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