Super Powers and Subjective Reality

Today I'm going to regale you with stories from my time as an unlicensed surgeon. Or just stories about how I drink and fuck too much. You know, whatever floats your boat.

As with someone who is open about his sexcapades and in about two minutes, rampant alcohol consumption, it's probably not a surprise that one of my jobs is near minimum wage at a liquor store. (Oh, so fucking classy, right?) However, while at this liquor store, I have learned three things:

First: I'm getting paid $8.00 an hour not to go on a murderous shooting rampage.

 [Actually, fuck the eight bucks. This plus a bottle of Jack sounds like a good Friday night.]

Apparently I will spontaneously grow a Vagina, Soviet Flag and questionable trigger discipline before murdering everyone in sight.

Second: If you take a shit for 12min a day, every day, every week you will be getting paid for an hours worth of pooping. I call this Paid to Poop, Dollars for Dumps, Salary for Shit and Cash for Crap. Sure I'm not pooping gold, but I am pooping -- Guano for Green. Yeah, I knew I had another one in there.

Third: Alcoholics have amazing super powers. They can twist and bend reality to their subjective liking and ignore everything else.

For example, they have the ability to hear the door to the liquor store open from more than two blocks away. Apparently when your liver starts failing, doors start sounding like dog whistles, because they will come like locusts.

Rampant alcoholism also apparently ruins your perceptions of reality. For example: As you might guess I was opening the liquor store. The tiles are linoleum and it was raining outside. I have to get to the alarm to turn it off, but I'm not going to fucking run and crack my head open just so some impatient asshole can get his pint of Kamchatka. As you can guess, the alarm went off, which is not all that unexpected.

Here is what is unexpected: Four... erm, upstanding members of society, standing around the front door of the liquor store looking confused and dazed. Mind you the Alarm, as in the burglar alarm, had been turned off not more than ten seconds ago. You know, the alarm that summons the police. But rather than do the not mentally deficient thing and wait outside for someone to give you the okay to come in, these fucking morons decided to walk into a store that had no lights on and a ringing burglar alarm. Then got dazed and confused because the lights weren't on.

"Yo mang, why ain't the lights on?"
I looked at him in shock. "The open sign isn't on either, but the alarm is."
"I needa pint of "SheerRock"
I ignored him and proceeded to walk around the store turning the lights on. About ten seconds later, half way through turning on all the lights in the store: "Yo! Hurry up! Whats taking you so long?"
"Don't worry sir, I'm sure your liver still has some of yesterday's pint in it. You'll get your booze in a minute."
No response. Another twenty seconds later I was done, walked to the counter, turned on the rest of the lights, grabbed a pint of Ciroc (Luxury Vodka) scanned it and:
"Naw man, that's too much. I need somethin' like a shorty"
"You mean a half-pint, sir?"
"Naw man a shorty."
What the fuck is shorty you god damned waste of flesh. Whatever. I got him the fucking half pint and rang it up.
"One half pint of Ciroc, [whatever the price was]"
"Good lookin' triple OG."
Yes, by ignoring him, calling him an alcoholic, and being generally rude, I was instantly elevated to status of Original Gangster, not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES. Sadly "Original Gangasta" is considered a compliment by these people.

The next degenerate wants a pint of Kamchatka, possibly the most horrendous excuse for "vodka" ever created. It's American brewed, despite being named for the peninsula in eastern most Russia. PROBLEM: We don't have any Kamchatka, all the other drunk assholes bought them all, and the truck isn't coming for a few days.

Wait a minute. SOLUTION:
We have CHEAPER vodka which actually sucks mildly less. Considering a large percentage of our customers attempt to use their "Ohio Directions" [Food Stamps] card or WIC [Women Infants and Children], special money given to women with infants and children so they can buy them nutritious food...

BONUS CONTENT: 

(Brought to you by today's sponsor: ADHD)

[The "TV Pretty" version of the average booze buying WIC card Holder]

Can we bring back the Chick with the AK? Please?

...

 [And everything went better than expected!]

Now add a bottle of Jack and we've got an excellent thirsty Thursday

We now return you to your irregularly scheduled, 

debaucherous asshat blogging away on the internet.

So where were we? Right.
-No Kamchatka
-Slightly better and Cheaper vodka is available
-Customer base attempts to pay with food stamps
-Customer base is highly uneducated

The solution should be simple, right? Just offer them the cheaper vodka and they should be glad to save the 15 cents. If anything you might help bring some joy to a drunkards life and save them a bit of money. Right? Fuck no, dude, this is a liquor store overrun with dumb shit drunks and hood rats. Sometimes with some people getting overlap in both categories. No logic here, son.


"We're out of Kamchatka pints right now, but we've got McCormick vodka, and it's 15 cents cheaper"
"Naw, I don't drink dat shit, it's ROTGUT!"

Wait. What? Mother fucker please. You're able to get drunk off a pint of day because your liver's filtering capacity is do deteriorated from years of excessive drinking...

 [Anyone else get a chill down their spine?]

I was sure there was a lesson I'm supposed to learn here, but my conference with the 3 wise men tells me no

"You know, Kamchatka is rotgut too, ma'am."
"Yeah but that stuff gives me a headache!"

Erm... right. Different cheap shit, barely filtered vodkas are going to give you different effects? No. That's not how science works. It just means you were too stupid to drink any water while you were wasting your day drunk on a pint. PS: drinking tip for all of my reader... readers? Whatever. Water is your friend. It's the fuel for breaking down the ethyl alcohol in your system that your liver needs.

Anyway, there WAS supposed to be a part two to this, mainly about subjective realities and nerdery, but I'm getting bored writing this post, so that means whoever is reading it is probably already bored of reading it. So, until next time, young future socialists, remember to support gun control: Know where you're aiming at all times!