7:00 AM: I woke up at bright and early as usual, even though I'd worked late at The Boobie Barn the night before. I tried to go back to sleep -- but once I'm up I'm typically up -- so I headed to the kitchen to make some coffee and was greeted by this sight.
I stopped dead in my tracks. It's not everyday you see a guy in a Captain Jesus outfit sitting at your kitchen table. It was a bit disconcerting.
"Um....hi, how's it going?" I said.
"Good," he looked up from the paper he was reading and smiled. "You're out of coffee."
"Oh, there's probably some in the pantry," I said, opening the door to check. It took me just a few minutes to find it, but when I returned to the kitchen he was gone.
When my mom came downstairs a few minutes later, I started teasing her about being a big 'ol slut, and having sex with Jesus.
"What are you tallking about?" she said looking puzzled. "I didn't bring anyone home last night."
So that was weird.
Then I heard some unexpected news. Apparently Big Earl is closing down Classy Earl's House of Class and Tits and turning it into a school for African dance. Who would have guessed he was into that?
I blame that damn 3 Foot Rule that the city has started enforcing! Earl's probably losing business. None of us dancers can make any money since we have to stay at least three feet away from the customers. Now after I finish dancing, instead of walking around lifting my garter for the guys to slide a tip into like I used to, the customers are forced to wad their dollar bills into a ball and wing it at my head. Ouch! Some of them can really throw hard. God, it's so much more degrading! That's mostly why I've been looking for another job.
I heard one of the Jessica's (sorry, I can't really tell them apart) was so bummed about being fired from Earl's, that she got all trashed and accidentally joined the army.
I guess it sucks to be her right now.
Britinia didn't seem to be taking the news of being out of work too hard. This is how she always greets me, so it was no big deal. What was shocking was that she didn't try to run over my foot. Now that was atypical of her.
In the afternoon I had a job interview for a part-time position selling burial plots at place called The Garden of Memories. I usually hate job interviews. All those questions about your strengths and weaknesses really get on my nerves. Like anyone is going to tell the truth. It would be kind of fun if you did though. Can you imagine?
"Well my strengths are that I only show up for work stoned about half the time, and I've never spit in a customers face even though I've really, really wanted to. I guess I'd say my biggest weakness is that when I get pissed off, I tend to take out an AK-47 and spray the room with bullets."
Anyway, the guy who did the interview looked strangely familiar. And kind of like a weasel. I swear I've seen him before somewhere.
His name was Mr. Shore. Here's how the interview went:
Mr. Shore: (looking at resume) So, Prunella, it says here that you've recently been employed as a dancer. Tell me, do you think Walt Disney's body is really frozen and stored in a secret room beneath Disneyland?
Me: Um....well, I've heard that's just an urban legend. But personally, I believe it.
Mr. Shore: Very good. Now when I say the word trondant, does that mean anything to you? (He stared very hard at me while asking this question.)
Me: No.
Mr. Shore: All righty then. You can start on Monday.
It was the most unusual job interview I've ever had, but at least they hired me. I decided to go shopping to celebrate and bought a pair of shoes.
I thought they were really cute in the store, but now I'm not so sure. What do you think? Too much? They're too spikey, aren't they? I don't know what I was thinking.
As I was leaving the mall an old drunk sitting on a park bench hissed something at me. Normally I wouldn't have paid attention to the blatherings of some homeless bum, but one of the words caught my ear because I'd heard it earlier in the day.
"What did you say?" I asked him.
"Beware of trondant," he said with a cackle, using his fingers to make air quotes.
"What is trondant?" I asked, puzzled.
The old drunk didn't answer. He just laughed louder and louder until he got a coughing fit, and then spit out a tooth. Freaky!
I got home just in time to meet the new guy my mom is going out with. His name is Ronnie and he drives a Little Debbie Snack Cake truck for a living. He was nice enough, but honestly, he didn't seem to be my mom's usual type. I can't figure out what she sees in him. He's not terribly attractive. I mean, check it out.
As they were leaving I grabbed my mom and whispered, "what...is he rich? Does he have a big dick or something?"
I was just joking, but she got a big grin on her face and winked at me. How bizarre! She never acts that saucy.
Later on during my shift at The Boobie Barn, I noticed my neighbor Star and her gay husband Al, sitting at a table in the corner, drinking champagne and making out. Ewwwww.
Actually that was more gross than strange. But still!
And then right before closing time, I looked up and saw that freaky new girl, Paris, hanging out and talking with my new boss Mr. Shore.
As you know, I'm convinced Paris is an alien. There is just no way that chick can be human. I was super curious as to what they were discussing, but when I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation they moved away. I bet it had something to do with the "trondant". What could that word signify, I wonder? Maybe I'll find out more on Monday when I start the grave selling job.
All in all, Saturday was a very mystifying and wacky day. Like Dr. Seuss wacky. I truly would not have been surprised if a Star-Bellied Sneetch had shown up at The Boobie Barn and started waltzing with Captain Peanut. But, hey, at least I didn't have to use my AK. So I gotta say it was a good day.
By contrast, Sunday has just sucked ass. How was your weekend?
27 comments:
Maybe a wee bit too spiky.
Princess- yeah, but I'm thinking they'll come in handy in crowds.
Weird. Not much else you can really say. Why does Britania still wear strings around her wrists. It looks like she spent the last summer at a YMCA camp, and all she did was make friendship bracelets. Come to think of it, that's all I did.
Trondant?
I am sure I have heard that word but it's not in webster's.
My weekend was kinda lame, what with all the forced dentistry and all. I guess it could have been worse, though.
I think you lead a pretty tame life. It's not like yer makin' jewelry out of human remains, or anything. Right?
RIGHT?!
Where does Paris' tweenie finally begin?
Helen- YMCA camp sounds better than bible camp. All we did was talk about scripture and suck face.
Mister U- pssst...Slolum! (nods head furiously) I know you know what that means.
BB- it is a pretty tame life. Of course I don't make jewelry out of bones or anything like that. I'm not crazy! I make drinking vessels out of the skulls of my enemy. It's artisitic and vengeful. Hawt!
Diane- you probably don't want to know. I certainly don't.
Are you telling me this was all in your horrorscope?
My weekend started out really good after surviving one of the most emotionally draining weeks of my life. Until a relative showed up with all of her kids in tow. By kids, I mean boys. I spent the entire weekend feeding these rugrats everything ranging from hot dogs to spaghetti to meat loaf to pizza and beef stew. I don't remember sitting down once. I even dropped something on my foot and broke a few bones.
By Sunday, my house was like Neverland Ranch. Little boys, video games and Jesus Juice everywhere. All I was missing was the llama and the carousel.
God I need a pair of those shoes. Where did you find them?
My weekend involved not having a ladder tall enough to get onto the roof, so the shingles are still all flipped up and useless, dammit.
I think it's time to get your own place when mom starts bringing home Captain Jesus. IMHO, that is.
Wow, Jesus in your kitchen. Guess he was just chillin'...He couldn't be there on Sunday after all. He had rounds to make.
And the shoes? Those would be handy in a bar fight...or a gang war...or in various other violent situations. Keep 'em around.
So did you do captain jesus? The cape did it for me…
The shoes are def too spiky…maybe a different color might take away from that effect…
Your life seems so boring. You might need to get a new hobby or something. Have you tried blogging?
Hey, why couldn't Jesus just make coffee from water? Seems easier than wine....
ps im under attack and now you are too...see my pg for details...
So when are you going to post nekkid pics of yourself in a gorilla mask?
Mr. Shore makes my stomach turn and makes my sphincter flinch.
I cooked, cleaned and battled beavers. Unfortunately they were the ones that swim in water.
Pru, some dude told me at the local bar tonight that I looked like Ann Coulter. Not once, twice. As in "You know who you look like? Ann Coulter..."
and a little bit later...
"You know you really look like Ann Coulter"
Aside from some sharp scotch-irish features that you and I both share (and of course the blonde hair) how in the hell would anyone think we look like Ann Coulter?
i love how captain jesus is just a regular dude with a hanging fruit basket and microwave oven.
Thats so weird. I was wondering where Captain Jesus was that day. We usually chill over a bowl of Special K (cereal, not cat tranquilizers) most mornings.
If you get me a Captain Jesus suit for Christmas, I am so totally your lacky boy for all times sake!!
Obviously, you're more hip to the space alien scene than most, but perhaps, you owe us an explanation on the trondant thing.
"The old drunk didn't answer. He just laughed louder and louder until he got a coughing fit, and then spit out a tooth."
"I got home just in time to meet the new guy my mom is going out with. His name is Ronnie and he drives a Little Debbie Snack Cake truck for a living."
omg that's funny! You kill me, Pru.
Trondant?
Is that anything like fondant? Or commandant?
Help!
Plz plz ck my meme...I needs your help!
I would have thought Jesus was at least a Major or Colonel.
I have those same shoes--except they're not shoes. They're nails pounded through the end of a 2x4 that I use to destroy the meth-addled life forms that swarm out of the creek, viciously trying to steal my clean needles and pocket change.
I call it my varmint-beatin' stick.
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