and here is a longer version, if you care to see.
this is a photo taka and i found one day walking down mission street, after a raggedy dude told me that once you go black you never go back. half a block later i told taka that once you go jap you never go back. this photo rules. it makes me so sad, and yet so confused. i'm assuming the guy in the photo cut out the photo of the woman and glued it on, but what was he trying to say? that she was standing next to him? that she lived in the u.s. too? that she is always on his mind, his momma? or maybe she died.
snake ate a sheep. i think. this is fucking bizarre looking. EXPLAINED!
this is from a photo shoot i was in a few years ago, my friend linnea's photographer girlfriend set up a disco party set and we all got dressed up in rediculous outfits. i ended up in a tube dress (???) and fed my friend kent a banana after we drank a bunch of absinth by accident. i took this picture of the girl who told me i looked good in a tube dress (lie), i never ended up seeing the photos from that night. thank god.
i woke up this morning really angry about my new job, and i sat in bed and wrote a long rant about it. but now it's just unfocused crazy-lady talk. you can read it in the comment section to but it's kind of annoying. here's a much better rant.
1 comment:
they're back.
burning man 2006 is officially over.
our city can dance again, our pot clubs can run at full capacity again, rusty old bikes can glide down haight street back from their temporary home in the desert.
dang.
at my new glamorous job, i have to work with the pesky breed of people, customers. or little tyrants as i like to think of them. they spend their good money at the establishment and DESERVE to be treated like a stockholder for single handedly keeping the store open and giving me my job all because they spend $3.15 every day. they've come here for the past 2 years and deserve their free samples, their small flat cap in a large double cup with 3 ice cubes and 17 pumps of mocha. and of course they're regulars who don't feel like they need to tip because everyone there knows their name. or the person who talks on their mobile the whole time when you're trying to take their order and they're irritated because you're bothering them. fine bitch, you don't get any whip cream on your mocha, and i know you want some. i KNOW it. or the people who order with starbuck sizes, and don't know waht to get when i ask them small medium large. literally, all they know is that they want a grande, but i honestly don't know what a grande is because i've really only been to starbucks four times. or the people who want discounts for nothing, or the pain in my ass people who want to lecture me on something like classical music, coffee terms, how bad coffee is for a woman's body, dirty jokes, i want to say suck it. go try to be the king of your own castle and master your own life instead of putting in your two cents trying to make my life suck. why doesn't someone want to talk about mahjong, give me a dollar, and give me a better job? it's like you're a captive audience for whatever they want to dish out, they know that you're not going to say fuck you, and they wouldn't talk to you like that if you met anywhere else, a place where you weren't their own personal servant. sigh. and then the people who say, "well i haven't seen YOU before! you're NEW!!" and i want to tell them that this job has high turnover because dealing with you people sucks. the work is fine, the co-workers are fine, the pay kind of sucks, but tips=good. it's the customers who drive me crazy. and the thing is, i'm a sensitive person and this is why this shit bothers me, and i sometimes get bummed out when someone's really mean to me. but i have a new way to think about rude customers, i just tell myself that i made their day a little more tedious and that my friend, is the sweetest revenge of all.
and then you get neo hippy raver girl and neo hippy raver boy all high and slow trying to figure out how many pumps of caramel they want in your soy latte to conquor the munchies and irritated that you NEED them to order so you can work through the line out the door and make more coffee and get snapped at by someone who had a bad day at the office. come one stoners, order and please suck it. and the fucking girl is wearing a burning man tank top, barf, and i knew that they're back.
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