So Long, Suckers!

A couple weeks ago, I got in trouble with Sugar Booger because in the process of removing a pesky lizard -- at her behest since she is scared of reptiles -- I threw him on the roof of her apartment. Granted, it wasn't the most compassionate or loving act towards animals, but I didn't care. It sorta felt good.

Upset (damn near distraught), Sugar Booger said, "How could you do that?"

"I was just allowing him to see the world."

"I don't see how you could do that. Why do you hate lizards so much?"

Normally, I would have brushed off that sort of extremism as a comment made in the heat of the moment. I mean, hell. How could I hate something I've never spent much time thinking about... then I realized, I do hate lizards. It did make me feel good to send that little green bugger flying.

So I confessed, "I guess I do hate them," and understanding slowly why, I said, "I do work for one."

If you aren't familiar with my means of employment, it might not mean much to you or you'll think that I mean my boss is cold-blooded or something, but it isn't that. I literally work for a lizard, specifically, a gecko.

Well, not much longer. A week ago, I turned in my two-week notice -- a gesture of professionalism that surprised even me -- and so, this January 27th, I'll have my freedom.

You're all invited to join me as I celebrate my re-birthday. If you can't make it, toast me. Sip some whiskey, knock back a High Life, fire up a Camel Light and once non-sober, discuss something that requires the use of multi-syllabic words.

I've had jobs that sucked more, were worse -- yes. Thing is, I was fit for them then because I didn't want my brain and heart as much as I do these days. I cherish this weird thing in me and I don't want to make it sit in a cubicle five days a week. And I don't want to do damage to my soul either.

Last night, I took a call from a little old lady. She needed a flat tire change and she had the roadside service on one of her vehicles, it just didn't happen to be on the one she needed it on at that moment. I had to tell her to pay $60 to have someone do it.

Yeah, she "should" have had the coverage on all her cars. She "should" have an able grandson or loved one to call on. Blah, blah. Whatever, it hurt telling that little old lady that all I could do was call a tow truck company to do it for an exorbant fee.

The repetition. I say the same six or seven things over and over again the entire shift. At night, I repeat the process in my sleep. When a call comes in, it's like a little jolt of electricity. There's no warning and it doesn't matter what I'm doing, that headset that binds me to the phone says when I'm gonna work and when I'm not. It's a form of torture, I'm sure.

Soon, I'll be doing something else, another job. It'll still be work, it won't exactly be what I want from life, but it won't make me want to shoot myself or other people. And I'm proud of myself for making sure I have a job to go to unlike so many other abrupt resignations. I'm growing up, kinda.

I'll be working "normal" hours, and my weekends will be free. I'll get to talk to most people in person. I'll be promoting the city in which I live and the alternative paper for which I've been writing. This is to say, I'll be supporting things in which I believe. And my grammar's never been better.

So, January 27th gather with me. Let's set a garbage can on fire and fuel it with the company related materials that have been reproducing in the dark, filling up in piles around my room and reminding me that I am not my own.

That Saturday morning, I hope to wake with the most beautiful of hangovers, the most lovely of foul barroom odors caking my clothes, the empty wallet of ill-thought charity, the sweet pit of nausea and the headache of self-determination. And I hope you'll be there to enjoy it with me (though not necessarily in the same room or building).

Macongans, steel yourselves. You won't be able to run, best not hide and your bad jokes about not remembering who I am will be useless to protect you.

The second coming of Chris is nigh!