Tag Archives: Cannabis Free Dreams

I’m a Greedy Man

Ugh. So tired. How many times have I written that as an intro to an entry? Can I get a Bala Cynwyd auditor here? And maybe some choice Cafe Press items to peruse and perhaps purchase? I had a day off yesterday and this retail schedule is wrecking havoc with my body clock.

Today was arduous. Just very slow. I opened the store today, not by myself since they still haven’t trusted me with a key. It was me and Don Birch.

I stood outside for a few minutes knocking on the window trying to get his attention in the humidor. He finally looked up when I decided to call the store.

It was a slow start but in the afternoon the back room was thick with cigar smoke as about 12 guys sat around watching the World Cup. Raymond and Sean made it in for the 11:30 shift.

We make for a good crew. We can obviously handle things on our own. Calvin had off and we guessed that Marcus took the day off to make ready his wedding plans on July 11. No one from the store is invited and everyone is happy not to be invited.

A comment was passed on my music, specifically a track by Tricky, ‘Pumpkin’. It was said it sounded like music from an opium den. I guess that was supposed to be a bad thing.

Before my official lunch, I ate my turkey sandwich and for my official lunch went out and sat in one of my usual benches by the park, had a cigar and read the May 3 edition of the New Yorker.

It’s a very long article about a custody battle, murder and the trial that followed in Queens involving Russian immigrants from an obscure Jewish sect. It’s very involving and engrossing and so far I’ve been reading it for the past 4 days. Or maybe 3 days, my body clock being out of whack.

Back in time to relax amidst the cigar smoke in the back room. After that, the afternoon crawled yet again. In fact the last hour was so slow. Too much watching the clock on the wall.

I did not sleep well at all last night. I did sleep but had an angry dream with me being kidnapped to Orlando, Florida by my parents. My father oddly quiet, my mother passive. My brothers and their wives were there as was my sister and her husband.

None of their kids were there. I yelled at my mother that I wasn’t supposed to be there since I just started a new job and couldn’t afford to be there.

To my dismay the only way to get out of Orlando was to try to get the one called Ann B. Davis to pick me up at the airport and that was like pulling teeth. The one called Ann B. Davis more than likely came up since Connie and I talked about her in the phone conversation we had earlier in the afternoon.

Just saw Chaz for a few minutes. He had a collection of clippings as well as Pride Magazine which has the photo of Bill and myself. It turns out Bill got a copy and scanned it to me this afternoon and now it’s my profile picture as well as Bill’s on Facebook.

In case you’re not in Facebook, here it is. 2 more days of work, then I am off for the weekend.

(I’m a) Road Runner

The day we kidnapped Barry Manilow was quite an eventful day. Wait. That’s not it. That’s another story, yet to happen.

Here I am writing again even though I was thinking of not writing. But that’s what thinking gets you. 500 words or more, a tour or more likely, skimming the surface of my consciousness. Am I shallow enough for you?

Let’s see, this player is on random.

Had what might have been an interesting dream last night. I was in Empire Coffee and Jeff the guy who I was friendly with behind the counter forgot my name. I might have called him Eric. There was also another guy helping me with my order when Jeff/Eric faded into the wallpaper.

In real life, Jeff lives around the block from me, his kitchen windows are a few floors down, opposite mine. I told him, my apartment had Christmas lights in the window year round. His reaction was to wonder what type of person has Christmas lights year round.

Me. I am that type of person. They change colors and give off a nice glow and also makes it difficult to see past the lights, giving me some privacy when I parade my not so private parts. A shame, a 20 something young man questioning something like year round Christmas lights.

I guess he’s never had an Ann Boyles in his life.

Work today, the late shift. A hot day before Father’s Day which meant some extra sales, for those errant kids who needed to buy something quick for dear old Dad. Also some wives who don’t know anything in particular, asking for a box of cigars when they mean a humidor.

And a cigar cutter which they worried about their husbands losing a finger in it. I told one particular wife that her husband losing a digit would be unlikely. All he would have to do is not put his finger in the cutter.

Dumb. As. Wood. And I certainly don’t mean to disparage wood.

I have cut down on smoking cigarettes, but I was outside having a smoke and some tourist bloke walked up to me with a dollar in his hand asking to buy a smoke from me.

I showed him my roll ups and he said that was fine and gave him two for the price of one. I usually give them away when someone asks but this bloke had a buck in his hand and with this economic climate, I couldn’t afford not to take the buck.

For lunch I had an excellent Padron 1926 Anniversario #9 cigar. Quite nice, and one of the best cigars I’ve ever had. I smoked near the park and on the bench next to me was a guy playing a pocket trumpet which was cool to listen to. I gave him the buck that I made from selling cigarettes.

I was going to smoke in the back room, but there were two old geezers who made me uncomfortable, plus Marcus was there and I really wouldn’t be able to relax with him hanging around. Lunch with the boss? No thanks.

And with Marcus around it made what should have been a relaxing day, a bit tense. Not that anything was really happening that could be considered bad behavior, just that he’s the boss and usually not in on the weekend.

Besides Marcus, it was Raymond, Don Birch and Sean. I am the oldest store employee here. The usual sniping between the three of them went on, but Raymond seemed a bit down. He eats a lot of crap and today he had the blues.

When Sean and Don Birch left, it was just Raymond and me and I’ve been schooling him on the Beatles. We played Please Please Me, With the Beatles, A Hard Days Night and most of Beatles for Sale over the past couple of days.

I get a weird vibe from Raymond, like he’s wrestling with something deep, but I could be wrong. He just might be overworked. I do enjoy working with him the most though.

Tonight after work I made it from the shop to the bus terminal in 16 minutes which was a better time than last night.

Padron Anniversario 1926 #9 CPW

And New York State is voting on increasing the tax on cigars from 46% to 90%. If it passes, I am screwed