2008-06-03 - 5:14 p.m.
No wonder I like my job

I am completely jinxing myself no doubt and it’s only the second day of camp, but man, do I have a great job. It pays shit, but honest to goodness, I go to work and play games almost the entire day. If I’m not playing dodgeball or freeze tag or my own invention called Slow Mo Vampires, I am in the library, getting paid to check out books and generally geek out because I flipping love libraries. The kids are pretty cool, except one and I’ll talk about him, and I’m having a pretty damn good time. I’m sure tomorrow will be a day from hell because of my writing this, but honestly, I love my job.

Two drawbacks: my co-worked Douchebag (best quote of the day: Kid – “Ninja, can you fire Douchebag?”) and a kid I’ll call Severe Emotional Baggage, or EmoBag, for short. Douchebag is a problem, because well, he’s a douchebag. The kids don’t even like him and I pretty much despise him. Eminem keeps calling, he wants his hair dye back.

EmoBag is a problem because he is a volatile little bastard. After screaming at me during Capture the Flag for not tagging Douchebag out, he mellowed a little bit and then said “My dad’s retarded”. I was didn’t know what angle he was coming from, but I said “Why do you say that?” “Because he left me on my birthday.” “I’m very sorry to hear that, EmoBag.” “Yeah, he owes my mom $2000 in child support. I haven’t seem him in years.” Wow, kid. Wow. That is a heavy topic to drop on me during a game of glorified tag.

EmoBag is interesting for me because while I really want to help him out, invest in him, let him know he’s cared about, he’s really annoying as shit and a lot of the time I want to be as far away from him as possible. It’s a conundrum. Plus, he seems to have taken a shine to me, probably because I expressed interest in him and his life, so he follows me around the Rec Center all day. Joy! The kids seem to think I’m okay, which is interesting because yesterday I was “the mean one”. That’s just because they hadn’t met Douchebag yet. Today the verdict was that I am “the median between Bossman and Douchebag. Half strict and half goofy.” I don’t think I’ve ever been called goofy in my life, but I’ll take it.

In my non-daycamp obsessed life, I’ve been keeping busy. I went to “Prince Caspian” with J (pretty darn good!), who was in town for the night, and then proceeded to get tipsy losing to her in our drinking version of “Operation”. Ugh, Clamato+BudLight is not a pretty buzz. I was very silly and laughed for about ten minutes about this joke. (Confession: When I’m sober I still think this joke is funny as hell and seriously crack up every time I tell it.)

Knock Knock.
Who’s there?
I eat mop.
I eat mop who?

It’s at this point that I die laughing and can no longer function normally. Seriously. Say the joke out loud, with all the proper inflections. It’s so simple and so stupid! Ah, I love it! I am sooo mature for my 22 years, I swear.