I started a few new jobs.
The first is working with a developmentally disabled lad named Isaac for a few hours a day, just being a companion and attending him. I took him to see Pacific Rim but it was a bit too much and he got afraid so we played Outrun in the arcade for a bit.
Working with someone disabled has always been something I've been willing to do but never really sought the opportunity for. I was worried it would be just too far outside of my comfort zone, but really it's just like supervising a 6'6'' 5 year old boy who is incomprehensible in his speech 50% of the time. I get paid to do this which I'm still not sure if I'm comfortable with.
The next is good old smelly factory work. I work at a place that makes these nightmarish abominations.
So those are cheezies. My mother used to go apeshit for cheezies. They're basically deep fried turds of corn fuck shit into a drum submerged in bile-du-fromage and then rolled the shit fuck goddamn the hell out of around and bagged and sagged for you to gag on. They're fucking delicious but I think a single cheezie log has like 300 calories. They also literally look like moldy pus-soaked dog turds before they get deep fried and coated in the cheese sauce.
My job is pretty straightforward. Three boxes lined up under a chute. One gets filled, I shuffle another under the chute, dump the full box and replace it at the other end of the line. Then I tick the ticker. By the end of the 9 hour shift I've usually dumped about 180-200 boxes.
On friday I went out on the town and tried to get in fights with people, drunk and wearing a chicken mask. I scared some Indian Date rapists, amused some teenagers before fleeing from them with a wild screaming sprint, lost my boom box, begged for cigarettes, danced for cars, begged for more cigarettes and then threatened more people. There were dudes two or three times my size who
could not deal with the screaming chicken man and gave me a generous berth. It was awesome.
