Category Archives: STFU

I Don’t Believe You (She Acts Like We’ve Never Met)

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It’s Monday I know that much. I had off on Sunday and back to work today so that makes it a Monday. It was an OK day. Yesterday was very quiet, didn’t go out much. To Washington Street and the supermarket.

I did have plans to go out and ride the bicycle but it looked like rain. Plus I realized that I have to deal with people all the time at work and here was a chance to not see anyone, not deal with anyone. And it’s not so bad to not see or deal with anyone. On my terms that is.

I watched Kick Ass which was very good and very violent. Nicholas Cage was very funny. You’d have to see it to understand why. Also watched True Blood was was even more gruesome perhaps. With a touch of wit as well. Mad Men was pretty good too. Didn’t take much to get me interested.

After that I went to bed with Bill waiting in Garfield for a train ride home. Slept really well too. Saw Bill when he was kissing me goodbye for the day. He was dressed in a somewhat business casual manner which made me ask if he was going to work.

He has a few chances to dress business casual and was taking the opportunity to dress that way again while the summer was still around. I eventually got up despite my inner voice telling me not to go in today. I didn’t listen to the inner voice and got out of bed.

Shuffled over to the shower after making coffee and pouring milk on the cereal. I was up and ready to go an hour later and soon found myself walking to the bus stop on Washington Street. I was early enough to catch the 10:30 bus but it never showed up like it usually does.

I called the cigar shop and spoke to Don Birch, telling him I was running late. Apparently people don’t call and say they were coming in late. The bus did arrive and we soon were rolling down Washington Street.

A few stops later a woman who I sort of know came in and sat next to me. Her name is Angie and I’ve seen her several times. She’s a friend of Karen Natapouf who is also a friend of my friend the lovely Rita.

I’ve seen Karen around a few times in the past year and she acts like she doesn’t know me, and the friend Angie does the same. Here she was sitting next to me. Me, with my nose in a book and she in the same thing I always see her wearing to work in her orthopedic shoes.

She usually gets off the bus before me but I always get to the subway platform before her. I always go where no one else seems to go. I don’t follow the flock. I see Angie as she looks the other way.

On the subway platform, there was a guy playing Town Without Pity on a steel drum with some taped backing.

I got to the cigar shop a mere five minutes late. Marcus was back from his convention, and Calvin, Don Birch and Raymond were behind the counter. It took a few minutes to get myself situated but I was soon at the counter with Larry, Moe and Curly.

I have a confession to make. My teeth are messed up and I made a deal with a certain quadrant to keep quiet until Annemarie went back to California. Well, now it’s been a few weeks and the teeth are back to their shenanigans.

I’ve been in a sort of pain on and off for the past 5 days or so. Finally was able to make an appointment with Bill’s dentist, who has an office around the corner from the cigar shop. The earliest they can see me is Friday at 12:30 and I’ve already told Calvin that I will be late this Friday.

So that’s that.

I made it from the cigar shop to the bus terminal in 15:30, listening to selections from the Cars first album.

I Want You Around

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Let’s face it. Most of the time lately, I have no idea what day it is. I was trying to help a customer on the phone, someone who was trying to get cigars sent to his home in Connecticut. I remarked that if he called early enough tomorrow morning, he should get them by Friday.

He said, that tomorrow was Friday. There went my plan for him to satisfy his cigar needs. It didn’t really matter since I was fobbing him off to another cigar shop in Manhattan. But I was taken aback by the fact that today was Thursday for most people but for me it was Tuesday.

And Harpy is somewhere in New Jersey. Attending some wake. As long as it isn’t Harpy’s wake I am fine with it. Hopefully the border will be open when he decides to leave the mainland and return to that island off the coast of America.

Last night I slept especially well. Bill was somewhere in Pennsylvania and didn’t come home until 5:30. He was off from work today so he lay sleeping as I was the one dressed up and headed out the door.

I saw the 10:15 bus at the stop but decided to wait for the 10:30 bus. I sat there on a bench and finished last night’s cigar which would have horrified my cigar shop co-workers. I had no problem with it and stayed far enough away from anyone who was waiting for the bus and might have had problems with the cigar.

I walked through the terminal listening to New Order, Blue Monday. I guess there was a karma pay off with the fact that when I got to the subway there was a train at the station. An express train at that.

I made it into the cigar shop early enough and explained to Calvin the problem with the printer not being connected to the network. He didn’t think it was that much of a problem since all the info was in the database and easily accessible. I didn’t know that and my worrying was all for naught.

It was an interesting day at the cigar shop. In the afternoon an elderly gent came in and I of course welcomed him with a ‘Hello Sir’, like I do with all the male customers. Women get a ‘Hello Miss’. It makes the older women feel younger and the men feel like gentlemen (though most of them aren’t).

I asked the elderly gent if he was at the shop to buy a cigar and he said that he wasn’t, he didn’t smoke anymore. His name was Bill and he was 81. He just wanted to come in and talk about how he first started smoking cigars when he was 13 years old, growing up in an orphanage.

It was a convoluted story but that was the gist of it. He had a few jobs when he was 13 years old, and thrilled at that age when he was making $14.00 a week for stocking the shelves in a grocery store.

He mentioned that his whole life was stories and that he needed a ghostwriter to get them all down before it was too late. I suggested that he go to a nearby college and speak to someone in the English department, maybe they could suggest a student to help him out with what he wanted to do.

I don’t know if that’s how things get done on campuses these days, but it was an idea that he seemed to like.

Just another day I suppose in Manhattan, working in a cigar store. Thursday’s with Old Bill.