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Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Blech 

I'm bored off my ass. It's all Steve's fault, you know. He told me to call him at midnight. As I write this, it's 2:25am, and I've been ringing his for well over two hours. No answer.

Most likely, he's asleep. The man is near impossible to wake up. Otherwise, he's either:
1> Dead.
2> Out fucking some bitch.
3> Awake, but too lazy to answer the phone.

#1 seems unlikely -- I mean, how often does an eighteen year old healthy male drop dead for no apparent reason? Not often.

#2 is also unlikely, because even if he were doing such a thing (which I sincerely doubt), he'd be smart enough to be home to answer the phone when he knows exactly when I'll call.

#3 is entirely possible.

But he's probably asleep. After all, he was popping pills before I left, and he's hard enough to wake without them. I recall one other time I tried to call for hours before he finally answered... usually it takes between five and ten minutes of the phone ringing to wake him.

And I had a hell of a time getting him out of bed to take me to work tonight. Once again, he was sleep talking during my attempts to rouse him:

Kataine: "Hey, wake up."
Steve: "Ugh."
Kataine: "C'mon, we need to go..."
Steve: "How about noon to five?"
Kataine: "Sweetheart, you have precisely three minutes to get your fat ass out of bed and get dressed."
Steve: "Ugh."
Kataine: "I'm kidding about your ass being fat, it's really not."
Steve: "What's wrong with noon to five?"
Kataine: "You're not making sense and I need to go to work! Like now!"
Steve: "Yeah, that's why I'm talking about it!"
Kataine: "Come on, dammit, wake up!"
Steve: "OKAY!!!"

When he drove me to work, I was seriously afraid he'd fall asleep in the car, especially on the way home. So about ten minutes after I arrived I called to make sure he'd got home safely. Well, that and I wanted to tell him I might get tomorrow off from work (which would be a godsend).

The phone has been ringing non-stop for two hours and thirty-five minutes. One has to wonder...

Tonight's been a bit odd, anyway. For one, the world's most annoying cop stopped by to shoot the shit with me. Unlike Steve, I generally enjoy talking to random people, but this guy just doesn't know when to quit. Last time he was here, he sat in his car talking to me for close to two hours. I guess that'd be okay, if the guy didn't suck.

But no, he's annoying as fuck. He thinks he's hot shit because he's a cop, and likes to tell stories about how he violently arrested people for rather minor offenses. Like this one story he told about knocking a doctor over the head, because the doctor was causing a scene in the airport. "Beat the shit out of that motherfucker! Said he was a doctor, ha! What's he gonna do, pull a scalpel on me?"

And once he caught a couple of teenagers screwing in a car, pulled up behind them with his lights out, and watched. Turned out it was a couple of gay boys in the car... so he went over and harassed them. "Yeah, I saw it all, you like sucking that cock, don't ya?"

He's a white guy, and a racist one at that. For some reason, the fact I was white made him think it was okay to go on and on about "those dirty fucking spics". I should have told him I was married to a latino. I'm not, but it'd have been funny.

That was bad enough, until he started making passes at me. He wanted me to call him and go ride around with him in his cop car. He gave me his phone number. I'd probably enjoy that, if it were any other member of the police force than him. I generally have a lot of respect for cops -- after all, my dad was one -- but this guy isn't a police officer. He's a PIG, pure and simple.

Luckily the pig wasn't out here very long today. He recognized me though, and decided it'd be a good idea to pull up and try to get in my pants again. Not gonna happen... I seriously dislike the guy, and besides, he's far too old for my taste. Late thirties, at least.

Mostly he just wanted to whine, though. Wah, he's not making enough money. Wah, his job sucks. Wah, he's going to go apply at the Sheriff's Office. Boo-fucking-hoo. He told me all this crap three or four months ago, and he's still doing the same job he was then.

So around 1:30am, the workers were leaving the facility, and I guess one of them ignored the speed limit sign for the driveway here. It's 15 or 20 mph, as I recall. Anyway, piggie saw the guy (a supervisor here) driving a bit too fast, and yelled, "I'm gonna get that sonofabitch!!" and took off with his lights flashing.

I took that opportunity to shut the traffic gate and kill the lights in the guard shack. I'm hoping if he decides to stop by again, he'll think I'm not here.

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