fredericks goes down the hole

I have no idea why I'm posting right now, because my life is just as non-exciting as usual. Right now I'm under the covers waiting for the Big Yellow Ball o'Pain (^TM) to make its grand exit before I prep for work. Things last night were quiet customer-wise, but Brenda decided it was time to play the Wilco CD she picked up from the discount bin at Virgin non-stop so aside from the whining and wailing, I mean. God I hate them. Wilco. Fuckin' Wilco. If she tries to put it on tonight I'm going to snap the CD in half and drop it in the bin, I don't care if she's the boss's granddaughter or not.

My rage against the Wilco aside, last night this guy came in looking for a book for his daughter. Youngish guy, nice suit, smelled of Wall Street. The book he wanted? D'Aulaire's Book of Norse Myths. I had to fight my inner book snob from laughing in his face, I was about to say "no, do we look like R______ to you?" when Brenda took some time away from worshipping at the altar of those asswipes and told me the publishers reissued the book. Crappy binding and glossy pages, but a reissue. I pointed him towards the Barnes and Nobles on 23rd and went back to pretending to organize the shelves.

Right. I glanced over to my end table and was reminded what else happened last night. Some college kid sold some books back (futile attempt to pay tuition?) and in the pile was a battered copy of Legends II. It has follow-ups to Neil Gaiman's American Gods and Tad Williams' Otherland series. I bought it off of her myself, gave her $4.00 from my own pocket because she looked like she was hurting (who wears tennis shoes in the City anymore?).

Sort of hungry, but I don't want to move. Wonder if I should blow off work and hunt something down? Blasted cable modem has me slaving to pay bills.