An Error Has Occurred!

[Juana]

among other things I have developed an allergy to alcohol.

I thought about doing this last night and this morning, when I got up to go to school. Just thought about it.

Got another parking ticket at school, then my battery died so I was trapped at my sister's school for an hour, and then found out there's a possibility I won't have this job after the end of the academic year since 17 teaching positions are being cut at the school I work at and the principal has free reign as to who to fire, so my boss might well be on the chopping block.


Not going to even think about doing this again.

[Triple Zero]

found out that I am not entitled to buy a railcard for various discounts visiting Payne, I need a kid or to be blind, disabled or over 60 to qualify. The lady behind the counter told me I could get a young persons railcard to get the discount, but I'd need to be 5 years younger to qualify.

but you can easily go for 5 years younger than you are play up the innocent-little-girl a littlebit and they might even forget to ID you?

[LMNO]

Day 2:

Sometimes, you feel compelled to go out with your co-workers after the shift ends.  I don't know why.  Maybe it's someone's birthday, maybe someone's leaving the company (yet going off to another plug-and-play job), maybe... I dunno.  But everyone's going, and you've been keeping your head down at work ever since you got there, and it looks like you won't be going anywhere soon, because of the health insurance, and you've got a mortgage, but anyway, you decide, "what the hell."  Of course most of those going were the kind of people whose memory of "wild college days" were fifteen years behind them, and hadn't seen the sunrise from the back end of an all-nighter for a least ten.

Anyway, that's what I did: I joined a handful of cubicle mates at the bar across the street for a pint or two.  It was a typical Irish pub, the standard shamrock above the door, hardwood paneling, trite and misunderstood Celtic knot work around the trim, the inevitable Guinness taps.  We all got a round, and did what any work crew who has nothing else in common does: Talk about work.  No one wants to, you understand.  The whole point of "not at work" is to not be at work.  But when your only shared experience is the data-crunching, paper-shuffling grind, there's nothing else to talk about.  Unless you're willing to take a risk, of course.  And no one wants to do that, lest they be judged.  Oddly enough, they would spill their guts to me one-on-one, or when they thought no one was paying attention to their not-very-hushed voices on the phones in the middle of the cubicle farm.  I mean, I knew that Laura, one of the older women on the team, used to be a stripper; I had a bead on who were the closet cases; and Max has some sort of heavy legal problems he was working out.  It was the odd differences that made people interesting, but it was also those same differences that everyone judges us on.  And if we are judged, then we can be rejected.  And nobody wants to be rejected.

So, we talked about work, and drank.  And then had another round, and the topics drifted into sports.  Again, there were agreements on all sides, because who wants to start a sports rivalry argument with someone they will probably be working next to for the next few years, at the very least?  By this time Alec, who his friends probably classified as a "wild card", but I labeled a "crew-cut douchebag ex-fratboy potential date-rapist" yelled out, "SHOTS!" and set us up with a round of tequila.  True to form, it wasn't anything near the top shelf, it was that rail rotgut that made you gag as soon as it hit your tongue.  I wasn't having any of it, so in the confusion of the moment where everyone was trying to figure out what the hell to do with the salt and the lime, I palmed the shot off behind me.  After a chorus of "augh"s and grimacing faces, the crowd looked around nervously, excitedly.  Somehow, a boundary had been crossed.  We had done shots.  Anything was possible now, right?  Nothing happened, and Laura took a small sip of her beer.  Alec broke the silence again with another bellowed "SHOTS!" and worked his way back to the bartender.  This time, the one-ounce pours were simply deposited in the middle of a high-top, so it was easy for me to just take a swig of my beer while everyone else reached for the vile kerosene-flavored stuff.  And so it continued.

Well, the conversations didn't really get more interesting after that, but they certainly got more animated.  Now, instead of just work, they were talking about how much they hated other people they worked with, and how that affected their work.  Most of them had finally backed off of the shots, but not Alec.  He and a couple of newly-bonded sports buddies kept at it, and he was looking a bit unsteady on his feet.  Compassionate me, I was getting concerned about him getting home, if not getting cut off and thrown out of the bar.  His face had drawn into a frown, and I could tell he was entering that place in your head where things just start spiraling down into the blackness.

"Don't understand whass it all about."  That's the first thing I heard when I stepped up to their high-top.  It was hard to make out what he was saying because of the television blaring overhead, but he sounded insistent. 

"'S not right.  Jus' not right.  I do well.  I got my life together.  Why'd that bassard get all the shit he wanted?"  His head had dropped slightly, like his chest had gained a new gravitational pull in relation to his chin.  "Gets what he wans.  Always.  Gess wha' he wans.  Not me.  I gotta work."

"Alec, you doing all right?" asked Jeff, one of the jocks half holding him up.  "You don't look so good."

"Fine.  I'm fine.  Juss gotta work all th' time.  Never stop.  Don' stop.  Juss keep workin'.  Alla time.  Don' stop."  His face started losing color, like the blood was draining away.  If I hadn't known he was so damn drunk, I would have been certain he was terrified.  Maybe he was.  Maybe the booze had opened up a hole in his heart.  Not opened, though.  Revealed.  Sometimes alcohol can do that.  It can lead you down a quiet road of intoxication, only to kick you over the edge of a cliff and into the void, where you tumble, forever lost in your own regrets and misgivings.  Maybe Alec was seeing that for the first time.

"Can' stop.  Jus'.  Can'.  Won'.  Stop."

Jeff grabbed him by the sleeve.  "Ok Alec, we need to get you out of here-"

"NO!  Won' go!  Gotta-" He grabbed a pint glass, straightened up with a wobble.  "Gotta!  Gonna reach it.  Can' stop tryin'.  Gotta WIN!"  Gotta keep goin'.  Keep... Keep.  HURKK-"  His body heaved, and the inevitable happened.  Vomit lurched out of his mouth, splattering the high-top, splashing over the edge, dripping on the floor.  A pillow of beer foam and the thin, acrid combination of beer, tequila, and stomach acid covered the table.  Alec's face was gaunt, drawn, ashen.  Then his body lurched again, and more came out.  Thicker.  Oddly colored.  Green, some red.  Some brown.  Lumpy.

Everyone scattered backwards, trying to get away from the puke, and I saw the two bouncers by the door start making their way towards us.  "You need to get him out of here," I said to Jeff, but he wasn't listening.  He was just staring at Alec.  "What the hell is that?"  I looked, and wished I didn't.

Those lumps just recently launched from Alec's throat, they were moving.  Twitching.  Squirming?  No, it was like... It was like...

Alec retched again, and more oddly colored vomit splattered on the floor.  And more of those... things.  But I could see what they were now.  They had legs.  They were struggling to free them from the vomit and bile covering them.  They had legs.  They had eight of them.  Eight legs.  And they were starting to free themselves from Alec's puke.  And they were moving.  The spiders were moving. 

Panic ensued.

I don't really remember how I got home last night, or what made me come into the office this morning.  Alec wasn't at his desk.  Who knows if he's ever coming back.

Needless to say, this is one more thing we're not going to talk about.

[Doktor Howl]

Um.  Wow.

Dok,
Speechless.

[Cramulus]

 

jeeeeesus! That actually nauseated me. I felt it.

excellent writing, my man

[LMNO]

28 more days to go... 

[Freeky]

  EEEEEEEP!

[-Kel-]

LMNO

uh um WTF MAN, wow.

[Pope Pixie Pickle]

Day 2

Dull as fuck really. Still a few hours to go so oh well!

[Freeky]

Every day since I started this thing, I have had to change 2 shit filled diapers every morning! Thanks, Eris!

[St. Everblaze the Badikal]

Day 1: Power outages at my job, Blown up transformers, found a red d6 in the dirt with "5" ontop.
Day 2: The red die told me to skip class.

[Doktor Howl]

Day 1: Power outages at my job, Blown up transformers, found a red d6 in the dirt with "5" ontop.
Day 2: The red die told me to skip class.

Don't blame dice for your delinquency, sir.

[Triple Zero]

Aw Freeky that pic of your son looks sooo cute!

[Freeky]

Aw Freeky that pic of your son looks sooo cute!

I'm going to take this as sarcastic humor about the pic I posted ITT.  THAT DUDE IS TOO OLD TO BE MY SON!

[NotPublished]

WHERE DO YOU KEEP FINDING PICS OF PPL WITH SHIT ON THEIR MOUTHS???