I'm not sure exactly what it is I love about
Brazilian music... I've been listening to it a lot lately. I mean,
I guess since James first
introduced me to Jobim and bossa nova I've listened to it on and
off. But now I'm all about Caetano Veloso. Actually, I think Gabe
introduced me to Caetano's music.
I bought an X-Men video (the FOX cartoon)
at the mall yesterday. It's
got the second Savage Land saga and the Dark Phoenix Saga. It's
pretty good stuff, even if it is kind of poor quality. Actually,
that reminds me of what I was doing at the mall in the first place.
I ran into my buddy Dante at Barnes and Noble
yesterday while I was dropping off my availability (I'll get to
that in a minute), and we talked for a little while. He told me
about a buddy of his who met Max Roach, and how they just shot
the shit for a while (i.e. "Oh yeah, I played with Bird...").
Dante was pissed 'cause he's a big jazz aficionado but his friend
knew zero about jazz at the time. Somehow Dante and I got
to talking about old 80s cartoons and he told me about how he
was watching a couple episodes of G.I. Joe (the two most ridiculous
ones: Cobrathon and Cold Slither) with his friends
and he didn't realize as a kid a) how poor the overall quality
was and b) how nationalistic they were. He said the videos were
on sale at the mall so I went over there after our conversation.
Anyway, I was at B&N because I needed to
drop off my availability. I used to have a reasonably good relationship
with Amy, the assistant to the head manager of the store. Amy
used to give me the same hours every week (Friday 6-10 and Sunday
1:30-10) during the school year, and then during the summer I'd
get 32 hours a week, including my Sunday shift. I'd tell her which
days I had to leave early or couldn't work, and she'd schedule
me around them. Then, one day, she scheduled me for a Saturday.
You see, we had this agreement when I first started working at
Barnes and Noble (two years ago) that I'd only work Sundays. No
Saturdays. So when I innocently asked her about it, she threw
a fit. I don't mean she just just got annoyed, but she fucking
went ripshit on my ass. I had a forty-five minute argument with
her, during the course of which she suggested I leave the store.
Furthermore, she could no longer honor my weekly schedule; I had
to go in every month or so and write down on a piece of paper
which days I can and can't work. Until Barnes and Noble instituted
a form on which I have to write my availability. The problem is,
these forms are smaller than a business card. So when I wrote
my avalability for the next two months on a piece of paper, then
stapled one of these little papers to it explaining that it was
too small to fit everything on, I get a note back from Amy stating,
and I'm quoting now, "Please put on form or I can't promise
you -Amy." If it hadn't been for my horse, I wouldn't have
gone to college. So yesterday, when I went in, I photocopied nine
of these forms onto one piece of paper and filled them all out,
then wrote a note at the bottom asking for thirty-two hours a
week. So now, I hate the woman. I hate Amy.
Quote of the Day:
O velho esquema desmorona desta vez pra valer
Pensa que e dona e eu lhe pergunto: quem lhe deu tanto axe?
Comeca uma outra historia aqui na luz deste dia D:
Na boa, na minha,
Eu vou vivez dez,
Eu vou viver cem,
Eu vou viver mil,
Eu vou viver sem voce
-from Nao Enche, by Caetano Veloso