two things have been constant the last sixteen days.
people have complained about garbage and i've listened to sean walsh and the national reserve. obsessively.
alright, so, let's talk about this garbage strike. it's been over two weeks so far and my life hasn't really changed. i try to block out the whining around me but, seriously, it's in every paper, every blog and every newscast. i could care less how many sick days you have. i'm not at all concerned about your wages and benefits. i only feel sad for you because you have the worst jobs imaginable.
think about this. every time a customer asks a stupid question and you get pissed off: you could be hucking bags of diapers into a piles of hot trash for eight hours. the next time your boss micro-manages your life: you could be babysitting some bullshit toddler who bites you while his parents spend welfare money on weed. the welfare money that YOU paid into! those bastards!
honestly though, stop talking to me about it. my life is so unaffected by things like this. i live in chinatown (there's always garbage here) my taxes could barely pay a lifeguard (and i usually end up getting it all back), my roommate and our two cats haven't even come close to amassing enough garbage for it to be a problem for us and i mostly rely on myself to get things done... well, me and that chinese lady that takes our empties every week.
fuck, i hope she's not in a union.