Strike When the Iron is Hot

Yeah, I know, I've gotten off the A-Z Music thing (for the moment) but I gotta be in my 'happy place' to do stuff like that. I haven't been there for awhile.



I'm beyond happy that I finally got a fuckin' job! Shit, I'm ecstatic over that! You have no idea. I've been working for 'Mom and Pop' Company's for the past 23 years and now...I got a job with an International Real Assed Corporation Company Like Place. Fuck! I'm seriously freakin' out. I'm not worried about the job, itself, I know I can do that. It's just the 'Culture Shock' part of it that is freakin' me out.



A friend of mine turned me on to a place that sells clothes. I needed new clothes for this job.

I got a shit load of new clothes really cheap ($8.89 a piece). Steve and Barry's, I'm tellin' 'ya, that place is THE SHIT! I will never have a need to shop for clothes at any other place. It is fuckin' awesome! Everything....(for the most part) $8.98. Five pairs of Chino's and three dress shirts for $77.24...? Where the fuck else are you gonna do that, huh? Awesome.



So I get home,the other day, and wash all these clothes. I notice all the shirts fit fine, but the pants are just a tad too big. I ponder the situation for a few moments then I go to Foo's and just have a wonderful evening with a few wonderful people. Foo's is the best Establishment you've never been too...



So, during my training for the New Job, I've been getting up early...like 5:30 am. That's not really a problem 'cause I can't sleep for shit anyway...it's more of just getting into a routine. I woke up at 4:00 am. this morning. I did my usual thing, watch the News, drink coffee, smoke cigarettes. Then I shaved, showered and got dressed in some of my old 'Business Casual' clothes. I went to the Bank and deposited my next to the next to the last Unemployment Check I'm gonna get. Then, I went to Walgreens and bought some Labels, to put on the big Envelope that contained all the Paperwork that they wanted. I just think printed labels look better so then I came back to The Cave and spent about an hour figuring out how to print these fuckin' labels.

Then I went and delivered my paperwork to my new employer. I noticed that all the hundreds of people that work there were in Jeans and Cut-off shorts and shit like that. Fine. I'll be over dressed. I don't care. I'll work into that groove later.


It was about 11:00 am by then. I had all the these new clothes, washed and dryed but not ironed. I had an iron, already, but I never really used it much. When I ironed something I'd just throw a towel on the floor and iron it there. It never worked out very well but that's just the way I rolled. On this day, I went and bought an Ironing Board. I am familiar with this device in that I used to see my Mom use one. Then Mom hired a Maid and Mrs. Miller used it. Then, when Mrs. Miller got fired, Mrs. Johnson used it. It was all the same Ironing Board, just different Old Lady's at the helm.

Anyway, I set up my new Ironing Board and then I go get The Iron. (dun, dun, duh)! It was all fucked up. Natch!. There was some sort of brown shit all over the bottom of it. I don't know what the fuck it was. It looked like Scotch Tape or somethin', and it would not come off. Now here is a little lesson part for you. You don't be Ironin' New Clothes with a fucked up Iron lest your New Clothes become fucked up!. Capice? So, I commenced to cleaning whatever the fuck this shit was off the bottom of my Iron. It would have been far easier to drive about a block to the Hardware Store and buy a new Iron, but noooo.....I gotta do shit the hard way. The Old School Way. I spent about 2 hours cleaning this goop off of the bottom of my Iron. I tried a variety of substances and concoctions thereof. I finally got it cleaned off and began to Iron my New Clothes.
It was at that point I began to miss Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Johnson. It was at that point that I began to respect their 'art'...what they did. I'm sure both of them have long since passed on, as they were old ladies when I knew them, but I send them my utmost respect. They were awesome old Ladies.

Anyway, I commenced to Ironing. FUCK! That shit is immgoddamnpossible! There is no fucking way to Iron out one wrinkle without creating another one. It's like one of those old really genius guys said "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction". I think it was Newton, but I could be wrong. Whatever, he was right. Ironing is fucking impossible. It just is. I guess they used to be able to do it back in the day, but now....it's just fuckin' impossible.

I spent about 4 or 5 hours Ironing five pairs of pants and 4 shirts. I swear Ironing is like trying to work a Rubik's Cube, blindfolded, in a dark room. Jeeze! They came out okay, but fuck, it shouldn't take that long to do that. I have since been trying to summon the spirit of Mrs. Johnson. She just keeps telling me to shut up and eat my Sandwich.

Peace