the year 1999
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i've wanted to work at a funky video store for a year or so but haven't been able to find the right one until now. i am now video girl (ta da!) i'm making crap wages and am not using my education at all so i figure i've finally achieved proper slacker status. --

there's a hidden camera looking over the porn section at the video store and i have become fixated on studying the monitor. i find watching these people look for their skin movies fascinating. sometimes you'll see a chick dragging her daddy-o out of there and sometimes it's the other way around. some of them spend way too much time in there. and when there's porn videos in the return box, i always expect them to be stopped about 15 minutes in. and then there is the additional drama of the counter transaction. i always try to keep a neutral look on my face but the guys always make the situation awkward. they stare at my face to see if i'm smirking or they try to make lame references to the weather or the music playing in the store. and you know how when you see a friend on the street or you see a cookie on a table you don't consciously think to yourself "hey...there is my friend. i see my friend right now" or "that is a cookie on a table i'm seeing right now", rather you instantly recognize these things for what they are. it's the same with porn movies. they bring 'em to the counter and there's a split second of recognition in my head that instantly acknowledges "i know what you're doing later" or "you're going to be doing something naughty"... i just can't not think that.

--

i have this idea for a story. it's about a bill gates like character...we'll call him...bill gates. so let's say he hits his head on the bottom of his swimming pool or he is hit with a pie with a pie tin made of marble or something and he undergoes this major change of attitude. he suddenly goes kind of berserk and decides that he needs to save the united states and all the people in it and the way to do that, he thinks, is to give every person in america one million dollars. so he does. that's all probably the preface because the meat of the story would really be in what happens to society. i mean it would definitely be some kind of anarchy. but the anarchy people usually think about is some kind of post apocalyptic thing with smoky streets and soylent green but this would be some kind of crazy affluent anarchy.

--

crazy, smelly, muttering guy paid us a visit at the store tonite. someone remarked that he smelled like booze. his reply: "i had a snickers and a seven-up but really i'm fasting so it...mumble...sputter...mumble."

i called 911 like i was instructed to do but an angel appeared in the form of customer # 24601 (number changed to protect the hero) and he helped our friend find the door, but not before our friend managed to soil himself.

the fuzz showed up an hour and a half later. the excuse: "half of the guys are out on the shooting range qualifying. sorry."

--

vignette for my sister (to be known henceforth as "sunshine"):

when she wears her jeans, she lives in constant fear. she bought them at an "as is" store, marked down in price so low that it was clear they were damaged in someway. but she has gone over them again and again. her friends have checked them. no one can tell why they were discounted. now she's convinced that they might melt away in the rain or catch fire from thigh friction.

she worries.

--

overheard at work...

customer 1: what are you renting?
customer 2: it doesn't have wookies or animation so you won't like it.

now



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