So, that young cashier fellow I’ve been lusting after at my local Jewel? Turns out he is, ummm, really a kid. That is, earlier today he had to flash his little “LANE 7” alert-light to have some over-21 cashier person swing by to simply pick up and scan the bottle of booze the lady ahead of me in line was buying.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel as ashamed as I should.
I mean, as many hours as he puts in, kid’s gotta be over 18, what with the child labor laws and things, right?
But don’t cry for me diarlyand, considering I am the Great Lover of All Things Booze-y, and he’s not even allowed to literally touch the stuff, things were looking pretty star-crossed anyway.
Unless he’s actually like, twenty and a half or something, then to that I say, “see you next summer O, Young Checkout Fellow!”
So hey, here’s the thing. There’s been some very bad news around here and it’s not really my story to tell, so I’m not going to get all into to it. Just, you know, lately, that's why there’s not been a whole lot of the writing.
So, what you really need to do for now is to go here for your hilarity and such because goddamn that is some funny stuff. Especially if you’ve ever clicked on craigslist for even a second. And be sure to hit the archives. They’re all worth it.
Oh, when I say I am The Great Lover of All Things Booze-y, let’s remember even I have my limits. That is to say, prison pruno is probably the one big Red Light on my Slow Ride to Cirrhosis.
Anyway, more writing soon. Maybe. Probably.
Thanks for the nice emails.
* Yes, I realize I am the only person on the planet who still thinks that “word” is funny, and no I am not being ironic.