Today's featured shit

“Yeah, my great-grandfather died in the holocaust too, he fell out of a guard tower.”

I had about 45 kids last night. Here are some things I noticed:

• Only five kids were alone, and they were all white.
• There were only seven white kids, and the two that weren’t by themselves were with their white trash dad, who was exasperated and slurring his words while telling his brethren to “say trick or treat, dammit.”
• Many kids didn’t have bags. One used a Target plastic bag. Don’t these kids have pillowcases?
• The first showed up at 5:45, and the last was there at 8:30. Forty of them were between 6:15 and 7:45.
• Filipino trick or treaters always had their parents right behind them. This perpetuates the stereotype that Filipino families do everything for their kids. This apparently includes ringing doorbells.
• The Powerpuff Girls aren’t cool anymore. I know this because of the reactions I got while giving out candy from that bowl. One girl liked it. She was one of the solo white kids.
• There was no integration in the groups. It was a Latin group, or a black group or whatever.
• This neighborhood is typically diverse as far as San Jose goes, except there were no Asians. I guess they all live in Almaden and Evergreen.
• The last group was a mom pushing a stroller with a sleeping baby in costume. You just don’t argue with parents. There’s nothing in it for me.
• Some things never change. They want to see what you’re giving them. They try to take it from your hand. I of course do not tolerate such foolishness. Into the bag or pumpkin (or Target bag) it goes.
• “Happy Halloween” is rapidly replacing “trick or treat,” and I don’t understand this. Are we afraid that having kids be exposed to tricks is going to hurt their self-esteem?
• Some of the supervising parents (stay at the curb — at least give the impression to your kids that you trust them) had the telltale iPod earbuds going on. They must be doing this everywhere with their kids, and I find it disrespectful. As if my generation ain’t fucked up enough.
• One of the kids saw the Simpsons on my TV. He asked whether he could come in and watch it. He even put his foot in the door. Maybe that is why parents trail all the way to the door. This one sure didn’t. It made me wish I was a child molester. You talk about an opportunity falling into your lap!

How many of those people are going to vote in six days? Not many. It’s easier to complain. These are the same people that watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report and do not vote. Stick it in your respective ears, waxies.

I know I’m a whiny bitch. It’s fun. Those whiny bitches that take themselves too seriously… well, I can’t be responsible for them. But at least I know how to have a good time with it.

The Pinnacle Fitness in Los Gatos has been rebranded a Bally Total Fitness. Bally bought Pinnacle years ago, but they kept Pinnacle’s name because it’s a fancy place. Well, for whatever reason, they will even let scumbag Bally members like me in.

This place is fancier than a can of Fancy Feast served with packets of fancy ketchup. (“Catsup” would be a subtle pun, but I refuse to say “catsup,” and I have to keep it real!)

Their showers have body wash, shampoo and conditioner. Their sinks have soap, shaving cream, after shave, cotton swabs, deodorant and hair spray. There are like eight racquetball courts too, although that does nothing for me.

This means I will hardly ever have to drive on Hamilton again, and I say good riddance. I hate driving Hamilton. The lights are synchronized poorly, which is worse than not being synchronized at all!

I am trying to let this new discovery cover up my disdain for all the things that have made me a whiny bitch for the past week. We’ll see.

I’ve set up an interview to teach English in Japan on the 17th (not in Japan — the interview is in San Francisco). It’s a smart move, but do I really want to give up on this new Bally Total Fitness? Oh, and I guess there are other things keeping me here too. (Notice how by not giving further examples, you will automatically assume that you’re one of them. This is an excellent marketing gimmick.)

Hockey was grand on Sunday. I broke someone’s stick, and we scored four goals, double the team record. The only problem was that we gave up a season-high-tying eight goals. Oops.

I was given a filing cabinet and some boxes at work. I put things in them. I did not address all the concerns that were handed to me, but I’ve done plenty. At this point, it’s no contest that I no longer have the messiest cube, so fuck ’em. If they ask me to do more, I am just going to say no. I figure I might as well see what happens when someone says “no.”

Speaking of needing to find another job (nice!), I am going to register to take the CBEST Friday. That is what everyone that wants to be a teacher has to take. It’s really easy. People aren’t teachers because it’s hard — people aren’t teachers because it doesn’t pay anything.

Weird how the first part of that sentence can mean opposite things. Crazy world we live in, mama.