3-19-97
Nobody would believe the fucking runaround I went through today, or maybe actually, it's all too typical. When I drove up to the house, Jersey Johnny was on the walkway with a grin and a thumbs-up. "They found your truck," he said.
My response was guarded. "What's left of it?"
"They said the stereo's gone, but other than that, it's okay."
"I doubt my fishing gear and golf clubs are still in it."
Yeah, yeah, anyway it's a quarter to twelve now. I have to sleep. GIP is going to meet me here after school tomorrow so that we can take another crack at trying to get my car from the bureaucracy that's as bad as the thieves that stole it. I've already accounted for most of what happened in my typing file. The cops couldn't do anything because those hardworking detectives go home at three thirty. I didn't get to tread today. I scanned through the papers just now and sped through the crossword. I did my fifteen minutes and wrote two pages in my page-a-day file and still didn't cover the entire pain-in-the-ass it was not getting my car back today.
The cop put us off to help a woman who came after us. He expressed a need for a "stolen identity form" , but didn't know how to go about getting one. He scooted around on his chair and opened a few drawers. Then he typed a few numbers on their ancient computer. "It's very slow," he advised us. I had determined within a minute that he could not help us, but we hung around for forty minutes before he came to the same conclusion. I have to bring a checkbook to school tomorrow to pay the tax man. What else? I need to sleep. I didn't get high. I ate a bagel with peanut butter for breakfast. I had a school lunch and a fet alfredo microwave tray and want to bone a little gold-toothed hussy and made some ravioli and coudn't get online.
Nobody would believe the fucking runaround I went through today, or maybe actually, it's all too typical. When I drove up to the house, Jersey Johnny was on the walkway with a grin and a thumbs-up. "They found your truck," he said.
My response was guarded. "What's left of it?"
"They said the stereo's gone, but other than that, it's okay."
"I doubt my fishing gear and golf clubs are still in it."
Yeah, yeah, anyway it's a quarter to twelve now. I have to sleep. GIP is going to meet me here after school tomorrow so that we can take another crack at trying to get my car from the bureaucracy that's as bad as the thieves that stole it. I've already accounted for most of what happened in my typing file. The cops couldn't do anything because those hardworking detectives go home at three thirty. I didn't get to tread today. I scanned through the papers just now and sped through the crossword. I did my fifteen minutes and wrote two pages in my page-a-day file and still didn't cover the entire pain-in-the-ass it was not getting my car back today.
The cop put us off to help a woman who came after us. He expressed a need for a "stolen identity form" , but didn't know how to go about getting one. He scooted around on his chair and opened a few drawers. Then he typed a few numbers on their ancient computer. "It's very slow," he advised us. I had determined within a minute that he could not help us, but we hung around for forty minutes before he came to the same conclusion. I have to bring a checkbook to school tomorrow to pay the tax man. What else? I need to sleep. I didn't get high. I ate a bagel with peanut butter for breakfast. I had a school lunch and a fet alfredo microwave tray and want to bone a little gold-toothed hussy and made some ravioli and coudn't get online.
posted by johnz at 10:17 PM
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