Tuesday, November 30

[No more song lines for titles]
It won't stop raining.

In other news, I'm not crazy! For a couple of weeks now, I've had this uneasy suspicion that someone has been siphoning gas out of my car. Here's why: On Monday I would go and fill up to half a tank, and by Thursday my gas light would be illuminated and dinging, announcing the car's thirst for more fuel. And between Monday and Thursday, all I do is drive from my apartment to work or school, both of which only take five minutes or so. It doesn't add up.

And then lo and behold, last night as I'm cruising through my parking lot to find a space, I see a car with its fuel door and cap wide open, just dangling there for no reason. Crazy?!?! Hardly. I'm the sanest person you know.

I went to bed last night at 11 so I could get up early and pummel my fears and stress, but here I am at 10:21 wiping sleep out of my eyes and crust off my lips. I give up.

Here's a funny story for your Tuesday enjoyment: My co-worker Lisa told me yesterday that I missed a hell of a meeting at work. We've been having a canned food drive at work, and the person who brought the most was entitled to a $50 gift card. Apparently only 15 or so cans were donated store-wide, a pretty awful number. Lynda, the store manager, gets up in front of everyone and starts crying because we didn't donate more. She sobs and scolds the group, telling them that they have jobs and should help out those who don't have jobs, and that she shouldn't have to coax them into donating food by offering a gift card. Then she awarded the gift card to the lucky lady who brought the most, who, I'm sure, appreciated the post-event pep talk. I'm infinitely amused at the thought of our store manager, who makes more money than all of us lowly workers, crying because she couldn't convince the people who hate working there (and that's everyone) to participate in her image-building contest. My co-workers and I are convinced that the store manager whose store donates the most must be entitled to a big fat bonus or something. We also question why corporate can't just make a big donation instead of asking its employees – who are mostly single moms and struggling students – to ante up their own pantries' contents.

That said, now I should go donate to some community charity, since I didn't give anything at work.

Hey Pattykins, happy birthday!


Blogger phallicpen said...

How will you stop the sycho siphoner?

Tue Nov 30, 12:09:00 PM  
Blogger nashgirl said...

Shit, I hope nobody is stealing my gas. We must have a stake out in the middle of the night for the gas theives.

Tue Nov 30, 01:45:00 PM  
Blogger TVonthefritz said...

No more song lines for titles? That's dispicable.

Tue Nov 30, 01:55:00 PM  
Blogger theogeo said...

I thought about booby trapping my gas cap, but anything explosive might not be a good idea. How 'bout just writing a tiny little note, laminating it for weather-proofed-ness, and taping it to the gas cap? It could say, "I'm watching you, and the cops are on the way."

Tue Nov 30, 03:20:00 PM  

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