The Richardian Occupation

I love my job and I'm fully aware that the title is a grammatical nightmare. Dood. In the last two days, I had to get up at five in order to get to work on time and I find myself falling asleep at around nine so that I can get up in the morning. I know people that go to sleep at five. Anywho, I get up and I go to BIOLA and I automatically have to get working. I go up to where I work, I pick up my roller that I left there the previous day and I start painting where I stopped the previous day. I know it sounds boring and intense but sersly, I love my job. Because it pays ridiculously well. Let's see, there are two men of African decent, three Koreans, and an assortment of whites, latinos, and others. This just tells you what I pay attention to and notice. I notice blacks and gooks.

In the last two days, two irreplacable co-workers got injured and were unable to work for the rest of the day. First fella, one of the Africanians, cut himself with his own pocket knife. I don't know how but he did. The second feller, a white man, strained his back. At this rate, in twenty-one days, the BIOLA painting crew will have no one left.

After work, I come home and try to eat cereal. Then I go on the computer till either I'm tired or the clock hits nine. Then I turn off the lights, watch Blades of Glory or Attack the Gas Station on my MP3, then I go to sleep. ye. That's been my schedule for the past two days.