In Response to "Intense Guy"

While I adore...ADORE...the car you selected for me, I think it should be publicly known that, for the safety of children and adults, I do not drive.

At work, before the tourists come, it's typical for us guides to take golf carts around and check for sticks, glass, etc. But it usually results in fun as we off-road it and chase geese around with the carts.

I have a license, but I hardly ever drive. I think the last time I drove a car was during my road test. However, I do drive the cart.

The first time I drove the golf cart, I may have crashed into a giant stone building. Also known as a church. I may have confused the gas with the break and sped UP while heading towards the giant stone building.

That cart has been messed up ever since. Sometimes the bosses complain about that cart, saying, "How come the four-seater doesn't turn right?!

I still haven't 'fessed up.

Oh well...

PS

WORD COUNT: 26,748!!!

Religion Mayhem...

A guide I work with wants to join a religion. She feels lonely and whatnot, and so she's looking to faith. Fine.

Catholicism? No. Judaism? No. Muslim? No.

She wants to join an underground pagan religion where she sacrifices chickens and shaves her head bald. And wears white for a year.

This might not be so bad if she didn't start the conversation with, "Tell me the truth. Does this sound like a cult to you..."

I highly recommended Buddhism. Sitting around, humming and meditating, can do some good. And, if she wants, she can still shave her head.

Hey, trying to save some chickens here.

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Aside - This is my personal blog. I'm not concerned about being politically correct and using language that will make everyone feel happy and cuddly.

Retarded Brain

I had to leave work early because I thought I was going to collapse from tiredness.

My first clue was the ten minutes it took me to figure out a hole-puncher. I picked up the thing, stared, and started hitting it with my paper, thinking, "This creates holes in paper somehow..." Then I just kept pushing the lever, and I wasn't sure how to get the paper in there. Something in my brain just...didn't connect.

And then the visitors.

The building most of the visitors had to go to for some artist workshop was right there as soon as the visitors walk in. It's to their right. I got so confused and disoriented that I told the workshop visitors to take the free tram ride over to the southern end to get to the same building.

And it's like, ten feet from where we were all standing.

Then I told the visitors to hurry because the building would be torn down soon.

An hour later, I realized what huge amounts of misinformation I engaged in. So then I asked my boss if I could take the rest of the day off.

Bahhh...

Nooo...

I don't wanna go give tours tomorrow. I want to have orgasms.

Ahhh, this is the plight. Of life.

Most of the guides are leaving since the season is over. This is bad for a couple of reasons.

One guide who is leaving has been there forever, and I always go to him when I fuck up. So he's like my buffer. He has saved my ass on many occasions, and he very rarely gets angry with your stupidity, because he's very patient and god-like.

One guide is very clueless and confused. She's always freaking out and panicking for some reason. So...basically...she makes me look BETTER.

With both of these people gone...I'm just average.

Eeek. Help.

22,399 Word Count

Sometimes it's hard to juggle school and work and my own personal writing.

But then I'm walking past Bryant Park and see this poster. And then I know that all is well in the world.

Ohhhh holy hotness.

Although I wish his crotch wasn't so obviously stuffed. I mean, come on. It's really OK to have an average-sized penis. Let's put it this way: If that thing is real, I'm making sure it stays the hell away from me at all costs. That would be like the thickest schlong in the world.

Olympic God

I actually had an OK day today. Thinking about attractive men makes everything go by better. This girl I work with develops a new crush every week just to make things interesting. Safety guys, firemen, the emergency medical people, other tour guides, repeat visitors, artists who are throwing their exhibitions...

This gorgeous, OLYMPIC GOD walked by. I was talking to some woman about where the bathroom was or some shit. But we both stopped. Completely. And stared.

This man had his shirt WIDE open, revealing a perfect set of golden abs. It was like from the movie 300. He had 300-style abs. It's an adjective now.

We both stared until he had gone. And then I continued like nothing happened, and she started paying attention again. It was like we developed this understanding, this bond of appreciation...

and then I realized:

OH MY GOD. We're acting like MEN.

This guy was just hot enough to drag us down to that level.


So even as the economy crashes around me and houses are getting foreclosed and tuition goes up, I still have hope for the future. Because there are 300-style abs out there, and they're not purely digital.

Is it 1985?

I'm not going to lie - some atypical school and camp groups do come. Most of them are normal, but the normal ones are never the ones that stick with you. It's always that group that says, "fo' real???" at everything you say that you remember.

Or a group like this one.

There was a group of about twenty-thirty students in a camp group a while ago. From the Bronx. And the biggest kid had something on his shoulder that I hadn't seen in a while.

A boom box.

A boom box.

I just have to say it one more time...

A boom box.

Is it 1985? Who carries a boom box over the shoulder in this day and age? And who the hell would bring one ON A TOUR??? On a spoken guided tour?

My fellow guide tried to ask the leaders of a the group for some cooperation. Nope. They thought it was perfectly fine. The boom box was acceptable to them.

Ugh. I need food.