A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says “Why the long face?”, and the horse says “I have terminal cancer.”
I was working my 2nd job job today, which for those of you who don’t know, is in a small, French bric-a-brac shop, and after a few uneventful hours, a peculiar family came in. They were an arabic family; a man, two women, and a small girl. I was about to find out just how friendly the father of the group was.
Working my second job at the bric-a-brac shop today. It’s quiet, and I’m pretty bored; so it got me thinking that it’s time like these that I wish I were to suddenly be ‘reactivated‘ as an undercover secret agent, unsure of who he is, but forced to live on the run, while simultaneously trying to bring down the clandestine organisation that made me what I am. I’d take my girlfriend with me, but she’d undoubtedly be killed before too long so as to give me a death to avenge. Soon after this, I’ll become something of a myth in the halls of this evil agency, and no one will be able to sleep at night, for fear that I’m lurking in the shadows, waiting to punish them for the genetic testing that they put me through. Oh yeah, I was also genetically tested on, by the way.
More likely however, is that I’ll sit here for another two hours, then cash up the tills and potter home. Oh well.
(Genius title by the way, huh?)
So, there’s a guy at work who apparently looks a little bit like a thumb.
Today, I drew a face on my thumb, and to be honest, I think it’s uncanny.
I started responding to people saying his name by putting up my thumb and speaking through it. I gave everyone jobs to do as my thumb person.
I don’t think anyone knew it wasn’t the real him…
This is essentially a transcript of a conversation I had with someone today while I was working on the bar…
Guy: Excuse me, but do you think you could call me a taxi?
Me: Sure, where are you headed?
Guy: Up to Windermere.
Me: For how many people?
Guy: It’s for five of us.
Me: No problem, just a second.
Me: Sorry, he says that for five people, it’ll have to be two separate taxis, as the big ones are all busy. Is that okay?
Guy: Yeah, that’s fine. Will it park out front?
Me: Yeah, in about ten minutes.
Guy: Thanks very much.
Me: You’re welcome!
Now… That would be a totally uninteresting conversation, had it not been for the fact that the man talking to me was completely deaf.
I tried calling my phone company to sort out an upgrade, and instead of playing the usual rubbish elevator music while I was on hold for twenty minutes, they played some bizarre noise reminiscent of the old Internet dial up tone. As I was too lazy to endure the arduous torture of holding my phone up to the side of my face, I decided to plug it into my earphones, meaning that I could hear nothing but the robotic white noise reverberating through my skull.
After about the twenty third minute, most of my flesh and internal organs had been replaced by cold metal, silicon wiring, and motherboard microchips. This was a great inconvenience, as when the representative from the phone company finally answered the call, I was only able to communicate in a series of ‘boops‘ and ‘beeps‘ that she, if I’m quite honest, made no effort to translate before hanging up the phone.
This wasn’t too great an annoyance, as I was then able to synchronise my mind with the phone itself, and transport my consciousness onto the internet and into the phone company’s registry network (and as such, my new phone is on the way), but after the completion of this task, I realised that the internet is a phenomenally large place, and I have as of yet been unable to relocate my physical body.
I’ve enjoyed my time existing on the internet. Some of the more primitive, obsolete computer programs have begun to think of me as a god, and have awarded me unfettered access to all of the premium pornography websites. I have also been able to instantaneously read all of Wikipedia and watch all of YouTube and have thusly concluded that sharks are scary, and cats are adorable.
I’m not sure how long one can stay in this incorporeal fashion, before being converted to pure raw data energy, but I should have time for a few quick emails before I start to bec0me c0mple1e1y au10n0m0us 0nd 10001101111001011001111011011011.
For too long have I borne sad witness to the folly of a coffee maker brewing a cup of tea. This isn’t some slap-dash, hasty, get it done fast kind of job; this is an art form. It takes time, precision, and patience. So don’t screw it up.
While at work today, I saw a group of men watching the BBC news, which at the time was featuring the story of Julian Assange and his stay at the Ecuadorian embassy. The ‘alpha‘ of the group started running his inebriated mouth of about how terrible it was that Assange was still able to stay at the embassy, and how he ought to have been assassinated. I’ll take a wild stab in the dark and say that this man probably had no idea of the circumstances that led to Assange’s current diplomatic turmoil, but he was loudly voicing his opinion either way. Now Assange’s innocence or guilt in regards to the sexual assault charges in Sweden are of no concern to me, and as such, I have no opinion of the matter; however, hearing the utter ignorance in this man’s voice was really winding me up, and after a good ten minutes of listening to himself speak, he blurted out a sentence that I may never forget.