Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

 
as i type this, whitey is en route to LA. he's where the 46 meets the I-5. also known as, Lost Hills. i guess he's like two and a half hours away.

then tomorrow we book it to the print shop just north of san diego, pick up our signs for the two gigs in arizona, and book it to phoenix. we hope to get there by 8pm. chuck, this old dude who used to make a living slanging glow sticks to ravers and selling beads and shit, is gonna meet us at one of the sale locations, and help get that shit dressed with signs, and looking tits.

i'm getting totally stressed out, the pressure of pulling off ONE job flawlessly is bad enough. two on my hands is fucking ridiculous. for example... i have to buy TEN fucking bundles of surveyor steaks, and they come 50 a bundle. 500 times i'm gonna be pounding a damn sign into some shitty arizona dirt.

when this shit is over with, i know i'm gonna feel so fucking awesome. like super man.

it's like diving into a situation that you know is gonna give you the butterflies in your stomach, and you want to quit, or ask for help, or have someone hold your hand... BUT NO! you fucking rock that shit, and YOU drive it rather thatn IT driving you, and the truth is...
i like telling people what to do. i love being the boss. from now until sunday i'm our company's arizona regional manager. whitey is working for me, chuck is working for me, and twelve Lucky-Ass people who will be signwalking in the brutal phoenix sun... whom i haven't yet met (shit, as of now.... THEY don't even know they're gonna signwalk this weekend) ARRRRRE fucking working for me. and anyone who doesn't act right, gets shit canned.

this isn't the weekend to try my patience. and it's gonna be hot as fuck out there.

but let's face it, i've had everything happen to me in arizona from getting stranded with no cash, to weighing out the moral logistics of dumping my helper-turned-diabetic-shock-victim in an alley stealing his wallet, and pooring a 40oz. of shlitz over his head. (we ended up pouring a vanilla coke down his throat slapped him awake, and threw his ass out at his apartment, he totally recovered fine we found out a few days later)

the bottomline is this. i got that feeling.
the feeling you get the day before school starts
and you're in first grade
at a brand new school
and you're not sure HOW you're gonna make it to the light at the end of the tunnel.

it's fucking great.

simpleton + junkie + truest of the bluest of pills.






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Tony Pierce