All but History class was canceled today, so I made use of the extra hour and a half to bring in a little extra of that sweet green stuff.
I’m disappointed in myself. I missed it. I was hoping I’d be there when they printed it, but by the time I got there today the Dubya “Still the One!” shirt order was done. I was really looking forward to watching my shop manager’s face the whole time I was packing the ‘W’ shirts away. Must have really gigged her good to be printing shirts in support of a man for whom she had such a hate even Lucifer would blush. The layout alone made me giggle. The designer of the doomed “stick it to the dems” shirt must have found the best Bush headshot with the Goon Squad of America’s seal of approval. Pre-election fury might have sold a few, but what self-respecting voter would don a shirt with Told ya so! plastered across the front? Oh well… he might sell a few. And I’ve seen worse. Like the time a woman came into the shop with the brilliant idea of converting men’s briefs into women’s tops. Has your brain farted yet? Like I said, brilliant.
Why are kids today enjoying songs with such empty lyrics? I personally enjoy a good Oldies station. You can never get back to those classics, no siree. They just don’t make them like they used to, not like The Doors and their inquiries about a woman’s name that they love.
I discovered something truly saddening today. I was unpacking freshly printed shirts from a hot cardboard box today, and I must have stuck my head a little closer to the box than normal. I wafted something extraordinary, and I was instantly hungry. I had this inexplicable yearning for a big, messy slice of pepperoni. I must have stood there for a few minutes–mouth open, drooling–before it all clicked into place. This smell that was taunting me–all this time I’d been associating it with those fat kid dream pies that came at least weekly to the Smith house. Was the culprit merely a steaming cardboard box? Was a self-professing Fat Kid not intimately familiar with every nuance of those peppered meat circles?
In the throes of disaster one can never know what the future might hold in store. But this may very well be one of those moments from which everything else makes reference. Years from now I might be saying, “It was years ago that my life changed and I discovered that all along I’d really been craving a nice, hot slice of cardboard.”
