things that worry me today.
I’m putting in my two weeks at Tulip today. It wouldn’t be a big deal if it wasn’t my third shift ever. But duty calls, and this other job offer is tempting me to stop being a punkass and grow up.
Like it or not, I’m grown. Being grown isn’t hard. Acting grown is hard.
Talking to Marissa helps me realize my job situation isn’t that bad. I could be working in a prison, on the graveyard shift. Getting spit on by inmates. So what if I work 40 hours a week? It pisses me off that I’m letting my apathetic attitude dictate my priorities. I have bills to pay. I want my sister to come see me before she gives birth. I want my dad to stop worrying about me. I want to take my girlfriend to that Brazilian steak house we saw downtown. I want to buy a sectional sofa for my next apartment.
I want to stop barely getting by.
When something’s deemed unconstitutional, people head for the hills and grab their pitchforks. Fuck that. Why? Let’s re-write the damn thing.
So much anal bleeding. I worry sometimes. I wish Wendy’s had a mascot community; mascots can be used to deal with these kind of worries. You could have a Professor Steak Sandwich, who is both a steak sandwich and a rectal bleeder, and he could interact with the other mascots in ways that entertain, inform, and reassure us about rectal health and being at Wendy’s.
Joe Wenderoth, Letters to Wendy’s
America’s Next Top Model winner: size 14
Today I bought a small Frosty. This may not seem significant, but the fact is: I’m lactose intolerant. Purchasing a small Frosty, then, is no different than hiring someone to beat me. No different in essence. The only difference, which may or may not be essential, is that, during my torture, I am gazing upon your beautiful employees.
Letters to Wendy’s by Joe Wenderoth
ukulele girls are the cutest girls.