The Emperor's...errr...the Kings New Clothes"

King Ron, the Exalted, God Appointed, Divine Law Ruler of the Men's Locker Room of the 24 Hour fitness was clothed when I came in yesterday. Now I know what some of you are thinking, "Why are you still hooked on Ron?" or "Clothed? What? How?". To answer the first question, my life consists of work, boredom and Ron. Which one would you write about? Now onto the second question, I'm not really sure how he got into clothes. I don't mean that it is far-fetched that the man was clothed, I mean, how in the hell did he get into those pants? Not too many people can sport what appear to be opalescent white Alligator Leather pants. Ron can do whatever he wants though, he's the King...Oh, how I long to be his Queen.

I have been a bit stressed recently, some personal issues and some not so personal issues. I have not had a day off since February 9th and it is starting to take its toll. I am getting tired and just want a Brandon day where I can ignore everything else that's going on in my disheveled existence and relax, maybe play a video game or watch a movie. I am not burnt out due to all this work, I am only doing 7 and 8 hour days. Its not like I am working 90 hours a week. Also, it helps that I really do love both of my jobs and my coworkers. Unfortunately I do not have a day to myself until March 5th. I can at least count down to it though right?

This morning before work I decided to treat myself to a delicious Venti non-fat, unsweetened Starbucks Double shot on Ice. Five heavenly shots of espresso, a splash of skim milk all poured over ice...orgasmic. The guy in line behind me was this HUGE bald white guy. After I ordered I went and sat down and started staring at him. He was wearing a wife-beater and a sleeveless khaki shirt. He looked like some Aryan Nation blowhard that you can find in Fallbrook. But I decided not to judge. Then when they called his name, Penrose, I knew it...I knew his life story, it goes something like this:

Penrose was born in suburban Tuscaloosa, Alabama to his parents Clyde and Mona. He was one of 16 children "thriving" in a 2 bedroom shanty. Every morning, he and his pediatric army of soldiers marched to school in Tuscaloosa where, Penrose was teased and taunted because of his name...and the stupid look that he carried on his face from dusk til dawn. Penrose developed a deep-seeded hatred for those around him, and found his only friend to be a Willow tree in his front yard that he affectionately named Madge, short for...ummm...Madgey. Now, Penrose, is a racist, gun-toting bigot who talks to Willow trees in La Cienega park and wears horrendous clothing. Pictures to follow...The End

I am obviously suffering from severe boredom and would like to be saved from banality at this point...any suggestions?