May 11, 2002 | 9:40 PM

Guh.

Meh.

Erg.

And all the other vulgar little noises emitting from the mouths of irritated humanity.

And all the swearwords too.

Shit dick fuck piss muthercuntbag whore fucking fuck head.

As we speak I am being stood up by a certain red headed somebody. And I turned down plans with two nice gentlemen just to play the rock �n� roll music with this red headed somebody who is now three hours late.

And who always fucking takes me for granted.

Assface ponyfucking dipshit cocksucker.

Oh There will be rock music this evening, ladies and gentlemen. But it will be me listening to the first Modern Lovers album all by my lonesome, sloughing down Vodka and cutting up Mr. Three Hours Late's shirts into toilet paper sized squares.

To do what with you ask?

Why to sew together and make my own American flag of course.

Just kiddin� about cutting up the shirts. Turns out I can�t find my scissors.

So since I�m in one of those grouchy grandpa moods, let�s turn this entry into a bitch session.

You know what fucking bothers me?

People who are mean to those men and women working minimum wage jobs�not the fun minimum wage jobs kids have (i.e. record store clerk or handing out promotional boxes of cereal in government center), but the ones you don�t wanna be doing for the rest of your life. Like mixing milkshakes at a fast food joint or doing janitorial duty at a prep school or bagging groceries.

Those jobs are hard fucking work, dude. Hard work. It sucks to be behind a checkout counter and bitched at over and over to

make sure you don�t break any of those eggs, honey. The last girl I had broke the eggs. What are you doing? I said two plastic bags. TWO PLASTIC BAGS! And one paper bag. Got that? Two. Plastic. Bags. And. One. Paper. Bag. Can�t you go any faster? I have to pick up Timmy from his soccer game in ten minutes or THE WORLD WILL END!!!! LITTLE TIMMY CANNOT WAIT ALL ALONE! HIS SHRINK SAID IT WILL GIVE HIM NIGHTMARES AND HE WON�T GROW UP TO BE A STOCKBROAKER!!!! Why are you putting the bread in the same bag as the tuna? The bread and the tuna are sworn enemies. Do you want a civil war to break out in the back of my minivan between the whole wheat and the Starkist? What if the ruckus causes my car to drive off the road? Then Little Timmy will be all alone and HE MIGHT GROW UP TO BE A DEGENERATE DRUG PUSHER WHO HATES HIS MOTHER FOR ABANDONING HIM AND IT WILL BE ALL YOUR FAULT!

White collar jobs are so much fucking easier than minimum wage jobs.

For instance, I go into work every morning at 8. I get a free soda from the fridge and steal some ballpoint pens. I settle into my office and check my email. Then I read The Onion or Salon and I write a diaryland entry. Somewhere along the line I call someone about something vaguely unimportant or fax some papers or give my opinion on marketing materials to a bunch of people who pretend to care what I think. That brings me up to lunch. I go outside, sit in the courtyard, smoke cigarettes and read. After an hour or so I venture back upstairs and shoot the shit with work buddies for another forty minutes. Then I read movie reviews on the IMDB or compose emails to online friends. And I might type a spreadsheet or something.

Then I go home.

I am comfortable. I have health insurance and three weeks of vacation. And, my college tuition is waived. I get paid way too much, folks for what I do. And so probably, do you. Because there are a lot of people out there barely making it. And it is wrong wrong WRONG that things are the way they are. I�m not complaining about my situation. I have a sweet deal. I thank my lucky stars every day, because there are so many people who spend sixty-hour weeks being screamed at by customers and managers alike and they are barely making their rent.

And I don�t really know how we can fix this problem. I voted for Nader. I�m pretty much a socialist. But I draw a blank when pressed with the question of how things can be made better. I really don�t know.

HOWEVER

One thing I do know is that there is no excuse for anyone to be rude to some poor old man selling newspapers or a single Mom pouring coffee at Denny�s. At the very least we can all be fucking nice to one another.

So tip well. Smile. Say thank you. Or trust me. I will find you. And I will break all your mutherfucking eggs.