I was just sitting here listening to Blur, when I began to wonder if their lead singer is the same as the one for the Buzzcocks. I suppose I could look it up. While I'm thinking about music, I will recommend you listen to the Johnny Cash version of Personal Jesus. Much better than Marilyn Manson, surprise surprise.

Apparently Dad has to wait around for up to seven days while they wait for a trainer to be available. The good news is he is still getting paid $50/day to sit around, but the bad news is that there won't be a paycheck until he is able to make a delivery. I'm glad I'm not stuck somewhere with my thumb in my ass with no power to change the situation. I can pull my thumb out of my ass at any moment. He has to call a locksmith.

I was astonished to discover that I sold over 600 bags of ice Easter weekend. It was over ninety degrees both days, so it makes sense I guess. I told the ice delivery guy how much I sold, and he proceeded to tell me that a store thirty minutes away went through twelve pallets last weekend. There's 200 bags to a pallet. I couldn't begin to store that much ice at once. I am jealous. 2400 fucking bags. It makes me wonder what being busy really means around here.