Just got home. Checked Facebook. My brother Brian posted a YouTube clip of Elvis, Suspicious Minds. I don’t need to hear the song or watch the video to have the song become an ear worm and burrow it’s way into my brain.

And perhaps I’ve infected you with the mere writing of Suspicious Minds. For that I apologize.

Woke up this morning around 6:00AM, the usual for some but not for me. Bill was kissing me goodbye and also telling me about a bus hijacking in the Philippines, 8 passengers killed, the bus driver lived. Horrible news to wake up to.

I didn’t understand what Bill was saying but despite not knowing what he was saying was enough to cause the next 2 hours to be fraught with tension, with me not being able to go back for a proper sleep.

I just talked with Bill about it and he said he didn’t tell me anything about the bus hijacking, just wished me a good day and that he would see me tonight. I suppose that is what caused the tension.

“I love you baby, have a good day and I will see you tonight” “Leave me the fuck alone!”
Ah, we still have the romance in our relationship.

The work day was the usual drudgery. We had a big shipment of cigars in yesterday and it took four of us to put them all in stock. Today it was learned the order was not for our cigar shop. They found out before I came in and all 7 boxes we were packed and sealed to be shipped out again.

That all happened before I came in and it accounted for the harried looks on Marcus and Don Birch. The day was mediocre at best. I held up my end though. Raymond came in an hour or so later, after attending to family matters.

One of my first customers was a rather rotund gent Boob Zimet. I did my best to help him in the humidor and duly wrote down the cigar numbers for inventory.

I rang up his purchase and asked him if he wanted any of his cigars cut. “Yes, but not by you.” WTF? Marcus overheard that and came running out to make sure I didn’t slug the guy or comment on his ever widening girth.

Turdlike Boob Zimet waddled out and Marcus did a quick search for him online. To my surprise it turns our pus factory Boob Zimet works at the rather large law firm that Jason Flom’s dad used to work at. In fact, fat, old, & stupid Boob Zimet is a senior partner or something like that.

Marcus confirmed that the guy was a real asshole, and that’s really not Mike’s style to use language like that. It’s my style actually.

I found out that I was hired to replace Harold, not just fill in for him while he was attending the natural bodybuilding/rent boy conference in Miami Beach.

That’s what I was told when I started, but now it turns out they wanted Harold out of there and were looking for any excuse which they found when they looked at his attendance records.

Tomorrow night I have to attend a gathering of the cigar shop employees. It may be at the Carnegie Club, or it may be at the shop. Drinks and cigars are in order. I’d prefer the Carnegie Club, but for Don Birch it would be a hassle. I’m the one who lives out of state, on the mainland. He lives in Washington Heights.

In any event, I’d rather not, but I must so that’s where I will be. I don’t know if I’ll be writing or when I will be writing if I do. So that remains to be seen I guess.

Tonight’s walk from the shop was courtesy of Talking Heads, More Songs About Buildings & Food. From Thank You for Sending Me an Angel to The Girls Want to Be with the Girls. 15 minutes and 19 seconds.

Last night’s walk was from a Led Zeppelin playlist, from Good Times Bad Times to Misty Mountain Hop, 4 songs in 15 minutes, 58 seconds. And a thanks is in order to Gary Nelson for reading and commenting on this misbegotten blog.