whitey bought a new truck today. a black, brand new, F150 with pocket doors. but he already has a truck, in fact it is parked up in santa cruz with a shattered rear window.
he came over and gave big tanky and i a ride around the block, and showed off the coolio features. that kid is STOKED, and im so happy for him.
it is kinda funny that his license is suspended, and now he owns two trucks... but thats just whitey being whitey.
he said he got his dad to co-sign, and all that shit, and honestly... i kinda can't beleive they sold him a car without a driver's license... but i guess thats common practice in the ghetto.
but this is also the first full size truck whitey has ever owned, and i know it will mean a world of differnence when he does the sign job next. doing the signjob in a ford ranger is like serving penance.
big tanky hates her job. she likes the chance to make more money... but not sure if she will reach the light at the end of the tunnel before she loses her mind. some people say she should quit, and they make a lot of sense... some people say she should stick it out, and they appear to make an equal ammount of sense, so i think the current standing is:
take it day by day, because a shitty job is just as hellish as NO INCOME. and if/when things become intolerable, it's resignation-town, population Uno.
what sucks is that it's not one thing that makes her job shitty. if it was just one thing, she'd prolly be able to cope. but it's farther than she is used to traveling... a lower pay rate than she is used to getting... unprefessional catty hos in the costa mesa headquarters... and to top it all off, they wouldn't even tell when she was getting paid fo rthe first week. add all that with being untrained and left alone in the office to manage the affairs...
it's just a tad stressful, and they just don't make a valium big enough.
but they alleged that they'd pay her on the 11th, and so she is going to bite the bullet and pray for a miracle. (and she dont even berieve in jebus)
and me... im just me. stoned, trying to be happy, and writing until his fingers fall off. it looks like the bullshit could go on forever, and all i want is to be shirtless on my couch with a never ending cigarette, staring at another breath taking california sunset. can i get a hey now?
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