Woke up this morning. Had coffee and toast. Read some newspaper. To plan for the weekend. Finished writing a story. Listened to some Jimmy Reed.

The testicle tale is now complete except for the fact that it hasn't a title yet. No big deal. I'll type the damn mess in over the weekend. Woo-Hoo! Le weekend is upon moi! My first meaningful weekend in quite some time. Let's see... The last weekend with meaning would've been when I was in training at Sitel in Madison, before that, when I was temping at Placon. Yuck. Placon. Blue plastic duckies all stomping out of the great chomping mouth of an ornery thermo-forming duck fucking machine. I was one of the duckies getting fucked by the machine. (metaphor, how quaint.) But that's old news, now I have a weekend. What to do? Kirsten and I are already guest listed for the 'Deep Eynde' show in historic Hollywood, CA on Saturday night. But I must do more than that. Catch a movie? Go to a play? Start learning Linux?

I'll let the weekend whims lead me to what I will be doing and where I'll be doing it. This is embarassing, but I listened to the new Marilyn Manson album that might be fairly old by now, and rather enjoyed it. I'm not going to run out and buy a t-shirt, dye my hair, and be glamorously wicked but I won't make as much fun of his teenage herd animal fans that religiusly graze upon the man's shit like it was manna. Now I'm sampling the sounds of some swedish metal, or maybe it's punk, group called Svart Sno, with umlauts over the "o." The name means "Really Fast" and they aren't. Song titles translate out to stuff like "Fish on Barron Soil," and "I Laughed and I Puked at the Same Time." For what it's worth, I'm glad the guys yelling in Swedish. I wonder if Marilyn affected the end of my testicle story? The worries of the permiscuous and easily influenced.

"Destination" in Swedish is "Slutstation." That is a great discovery. I wonder if "destiny" is "slutty?"
Today at TeleTech is casual dress day, as it is every Friday. That means I get to wear jeans (in good repair) and a even a t-shirt so long as nothing offensive is writ or depicted upon it. Wish I had time to make a 'Slut Station' t-shirt.

There really isn't much to fill my time and thus this daily page when most of my days are now spent being shown how to use programs I already know how to use. Programs I may not have to ever use again too since earthlink called asking for an additional reference. That means they are clearly looking to hire me. They're still on my case at any rate. Good. Temping at an outservice corporation is not how I want to spend the next 120 days. After 120 days I would most likely be converted to a regular TeleTech employee even though, as they say, "Conversion is not guaranteed," as if it's some kind of a threat. They don't want the temp. slaves slacking on 'em so conversion and the additional $1.50 per hour it signifies is held out as the motivating carrot. After conversion, benefits kick in after only 90 days. 180 days after conversion, a TeleTech employee is qualified to apply for positions that'd mean promotion. Wow! Only 300 days after my start date I could have the oppurtunity to do something else besides talk to the pissed and the retarded over the telephone. Most people fall in to one of those two categories if not both. It's your computer, don't get mad at me when you're the one calling for help. These tech. support businesses should pool their moneys together for a PSA on to run during the super bowl and something else that a bunch of chicks watch, like ER or Party of Five, that will tell these people to kiss the bejesus out of all technical support and customer care representatives' asses because they get paid shit and shouldn't have to take shit. "Remember," the PSA will conclude, "you called them for help. We are kind and beseeching to those who we ask help from, and besides, they have access to data bases with your phone number, home address, credit card number, network id and password, and e-mail address and password. You're life can be ruined with one trip to a free library terminal with internet connection. They can put your account on that computer, shop with your credit card, download illegal kiddie porn and e-mail death threats to members of congress and the president. Don't believe it? Try them. This has been a Public Service Announcement funded by pissed off techies in your neighborhood. Thank-you." In a better world.
Shit. How time flies.
SlutStation work.

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