---
---
|
|
Updates:
Saturdays
Updates:
Whenever
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Theatre Guy
-
2:37 PM. Wake up. Cold. It's fucking freezing in here. The television alarm woke me up. It was set to go off at 2:00, so it's been on for quite a while. On the television, a young man named Carlton, from Bel-Air, is living in the ghetto, going now by the alias of C-Note, much to the chagrin of his cousin Will. I laugh when a big black guy says, "Yo, C-Note!" I then realize that I have to drive a half hour to work. Have to be there at 4. Fuck.
4:01 PM. There was a god damn train. I'm past it now. About two minutes from work. I hope I don't get in trouble.
4:04 PM. That sucks. I had to park way out. There are a ton of people here today. I don't get it. Walking toward the great grey building that is the megaplex cinema, I think of a Swedish punk song, "We're only in it for the drugs." Yeah, that's pretty much why I have my job. And they're the only place who'd hire me. Oddly enough, they have me, a 22-year-old, sarcastic, pathetic, and emotionally unstable person, working in the box office (this shit barely pays my fourth of the rent in a horrible apartment in downtown Detroit). Dealing with literally thousands of people per day. Haha. I enter the building and everything is shitty casino carpet and dazzling lights. A hardbody walks by me, I smile and nod at her. She definitely got turned on by my bowtie and only walked away because her rich boyfriend gives her money. Fuckin' prick. I walk into the break room, punch in, avoid managers. Eventually get to work.
7:13 PM. "Hi." "Yeah, two for Chicago please." "What does this look like, a train station?" "Fuck you, man. I'm talking to your manager." I don't know why I said that. The movie has been out for a month or so and I just thought of that joke now. And of course I said it to an old guy with an attitude problem who probably thought I was making fun of him for seeing a movie he thinks is a pussy movie but is actually a good movie and that guy is a pussy anyway Christ fuck. He walks away. A Mexican dude approaches me. "Eight croddles to grave." That's the ticket.
7:20 PM. Manager Zack comes in. "Dave, don't fucking talk like that to the customers. That's sexual harassment." "Okay, wait what?" "Don't play innocent. You told that guy you want to fuck his girlfriend." "No I didn't." "Whatever. Just don't do it. You've already got four writeups." "Okay." White trash walks up and asks for five children and two adults for Jungle Book 2. What do I look like, a train station? "That'll be forty-four dollars, please." "Christ almighty, you raised the prices again?" "No." "Yes, you did." "Not since last April." It's February now. "Don't sass me. Let me talk to your manager." Christ, just the shit I need. Zack never left. Zack heard the dialogue luckily. He fakes a disciplinary talk and the woman is appeased. Fucking bitch. I am put on break.
7:45 PM. At McDonald's, having a fucking feast thanks to the dollar menu. McValue fries, two four piece nuggets (two four piece nuggets cost less than one six piece. Go fucking figure), a Big 'n Tasty (no tomato or onion), and a free water (filled with Coke). Fuck you, McDonald's.
8:30 PM. Have been back at work for a little bit. Sold a ticket to an Elvis impersonator. "Thank you very much," he said. "No problem, your majesty," I responded. "Rock and fucking roll." I wonder if he'll talk to a manager.
10:31 PM. We're closed. I just punched out, and now I'm walking out to my car. Even when I came back from break I couldn't find a good spot, so I'm still way out there. In the auxilary parking lot. It's like people can't get enough movies these days. Concession made thirty fucking thousand dollars today, Christ. Okay, what the fuck? I run toward my car. FUCK! The windows are smashed. Fuck, dude. Broken beer bottles are placed all around my tires. Fuck, man. My radio is stolen and my Hawaiian dancer girl is broken and I'm fucking pissed. And I don't give a fuck. Fuck man I don't care. I start the fucking car, drive over the glass god fucking damn it, I don't give a fuck, I am screaming American Pie really fucking loud, I drive I drive I drive the tires are steaming, bye bye miss american pie mothafucka, I have driven toward the icy river, drove the chevy to the god damn levy, mothafucka, levy dry, bye bye bye bye miss american pie, I drive over the edge holy shit it's all ov
//Gary
|
|
|
|
|
|
Staff Comments of Awesomeness
|
|
|
|
-
August 4, 2011 - 07:25 BST - Nate
It's time to end this somewhat hiatus and start writing video game reviews for no one again. Funny that after all of these months of college and unemployment I start wasting time with video games and shitty reviews once I finally get a job.
Also, maybe I'll start reviewing games that have been released within the past six months for once thanks to my new disposable (heavy emphasis on this word) income. Maybe.
June 12, 2010 - 15:30 GMT - Benny
I got an urge to collect crap for my chao in Sonic Adventure 2 Battle. I had quite a lot of fun until I realised that I already had a chao with 99 in all stats. That took a bit of the fun away but I have another 16 chao I can level up. But now I'm in a mood to play Zelda instead.May 31, 2010 - 15:53 GMT - Benny
I'm quite glad I went through with this The Green Shell idea. Combined with Hair, I've managed to build up a little backlog of updates that could last me at least a week. Although I have a feeling I'll put out a few of them at a time, which means I'll run out sooner. But yeah, while it's not necessarily easy to come up with shitty ideas for it, I have been looking around at a lot of random video game stuff over the last 12 hours and it's quite fun. I also need to play some more Star Ocean; I've got reptile aliens to kill and annoying girls to ignore! My hatred for Welch has gone down a lot since I got Lymle into my party. That annoying fuck pisses me off, 'kay.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
