Yesterday my Dad found out that he's being forced into early retirement. The postal inspection service is cutting back on inspectors and my Dad's getting the axe. I can't tell if he's happy about it or not. He keeps making jokes, but joking around in my family is sort of a defense mechanism to make things seem not so serious. So what he's really thinking, I haven't a clue.

But what I'm really thinking is come September 1st, when my Dad is going to have nothing to do but sit at home, I'm going to have to start closing my bedroom door. He's an impossible man to live with as is. But when he's bored, dear god the world is in for it.

I thought he was cheap before, but he's already started collecting coupons. Help us all.
 

I'm getting my ass kicked by a dead guy.

Spent the last hour and a half reading and rereading about five pages of Book IX in "The Republic" to try and answer one of thirteen of my study guide questions. AN HOUR AND A HALF. On one lousy question.

Like I said, I'll be a zombie by 9.
 

Pizzas Delivered: 1
Total to date: 1

Training day was awesome. Mainly because I met some cool co-workers and was trained by Noah...whom I now have a serious crush on. Really though, it was hard coming in to a place where I didn't know anyone, but they were all nice. I don't think this job will be too bad.

Things I learned today:

How to most eloquently say, "Thank you for calling Tiffany's pizza."
How to use a CONFUSING ass computer system, although on all the practice orders I didn't mess up once. Bwahaha.
How to fold a pizza box.
How to work with other drivers.
How to put a pizza delivery sign on the top of my car.

And I rode along on my first delivery. Noah drove. I watched and learned from a delivery god. He's perfected the fine art of pizza delivery. I can only bow down in his radiance.

Next day of work is Saturday, when I will no longer be training, but actually making deliveries, on probably one of the busiest days ever. Holy shit how am I going to handle that?
 

Waking up at seven on the first day of training has not been the smartest idea I've ever had. I wanted to give myself time to wake up, do some shit, and maybe shower before I went in to work at 3. But here it is, 11:30 and all waking up early has accomplished is to stress me out and work that little anxiety button inside of me.

I mean, there's nothing really to be anxious about. I get trained today. I answer a phone, take an order, then zip on out to their house while trying to obey the speed limit. It's not going to be that hard.

So why am I so fucking anxious?

I think it may have to do with going into an umfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and try to prove to them I'm worth keeping around. Then coming home and spending the rest of my evening reading 60 pages of Plato.

I'll be a zombie by 9 tonight.

But, in trying to keep optimistic and happy, there is one good thing. At least my butt will look good.
 

Just bought two new pairs of work pants. My butt's never looked better. Sizzlin'!

But if I hear porn music when I ring a doorbell on a delivery, I'm hightailing it out of there. Unless there's a hot guy on the other side of that door...or let's face it, even a hot girl.

I hope these delusional fantasies will fade with time. Or be fullfilled. Either way, I'll be happy.
 

In between classes I usually come here to the library and dick around for about an hour. Technically, I'm only supposed to have 10 minutes in between classes, but my 8:00 computer science class is ridiculously easy. I like the class, but I finish a week's worth of work in about an hour. So it's basically me just going and listening to a quick lecture and then hightailing it out of there.

I like it that way. Gives me a break before I have to squeeze into my thinking cap and discuss philosophy. Well, discuss may not be the right word. More like try to decipher what the hell everyone is talking about and hope he calls on my for an answer I actually know instead of one that will make me look like an idiot, which are the majority of the questions. But that's okay because I'm not the only one.

Yesterday at work, everything went fine. I only ended up going in for about an hour. Filling out paperwork, getting the tour, that sort of thing. I got a shirt and a hat and I have to go buy pants tonight. Black jeans.

I get paid minimum wage, BUT (and that's a big but and we all like big buts because that's what the song says) I get paid a rate for every delivery depending on how far out it is and I get tips which I don't have to share with anyone or even record anywhere. So if I do about 2 deliveries an hour, I'll be making about $10 an hour, which is glorious compared to the last jobs I've had, even at he newspaper.

I'll be making less than what I made at the newspaper in the long run, but I'll get paid every week instead of every other week and it's going to be a lot less stressful. My down time won't be spent worrying whether or not I should go over and talk to my boss. Instead, my down time will consist of me folding pizza boxes.

Awesome.

I go in on Tuesday for training. I get to experience the joy of a ride along. How silly is that? Some kids get to ride along in a police cruiser, I get to ride along on a pizza delivery. Sweet.
 

Must...have...coffee...

My brain doesn't process the difference between "absolute beauty" and "a host of beautiful things" without caffeine. Damn you Socrates.

Duty calls. I must go wreak havoc on my computer science professor. And then discuss beauty with a John Cleese look-a-like.

College rocks.
 

T-minus 2.5 hours and counting until I walk through the doors of Tiffany's pizza and the future that awaits me there. I can almost smell that sizzling cheese and smoking pepperoni. I wonder how long it will be before I throw up a little in my mouth at the mere mention of a large pepperoni, mushroom, sausage and a side order of cheesy sticks. Hey how about a two liter of Coke to guzzle down all that grease and fat? How satisfying.

With so little time before I have to go in, I'm going to have to scramble to get everything perfect. Let's see, I need a to do list:

To Do:
Shower...check
Shit...double check
Shave...is this really necessary?
Find clean clothes...half check
Gather insurance information...check
Clean out car...oh shit


Looking through all the insurance policies I have, car insurance, life insurance, bodily harm, theft, I wonder if they make an insurance for mutant fungus attacks. Undoubtedly I'll be needed that to clean out Junior. Ah Junior, my 2004 Chevy Cavalier. The sunshine of my day.

Although there was a time when a Neon used to lay claim to my transportation main squeeze. R.I.P Chester. My little green giant. Died in the name of college. A year without one start up of that noisy little engine of his. It's no wonder he died. I could feel the lack of love.

A moment of silence for the dearly departed.

Junior's made a nice home for himself in my heart. CD player, sun roof, and 0 to 60 in less time than I'll ever need. Bless his little engine. Though I must say that I haven't been the best in the upkeep of his interior. He's got at least a year's worth of empty soda bottles, spilled coffee cups, and probably a few discarded socks roaming around in there.

So it's time I got out the heavy duty rubber gloves and have at it. We'll get him spic and span, hopefully with a lack of mutant fungus attacks and/or the invention of some new, highly colorful swear words. Although I'm sure Hot Neighbor wouldn't find them too offensive. Good head about him, that kid. Too bad he's got a girlfriend.

T-minus 2.25 and counting. Time to get to work and then time to go to work. Or at least training. This should be interesting.