She eventually got too lazy to type "What are you doing?" several times a day and started abbreviating it as "WRYD?"

I should've pretended I didn't know what that meant and made her spell it out. I wouldn't have been lying if I said I'd never heard that abbreviation before.

(09-25-2022, 04:54 PM)user328 Wrote: She eventually got too lazy to type "What are you doing?" several times a day and started abbreviating it as "WRYD?"

Someone passed out or whatever, and the fire department was called. It happens several times a day. Police, fire trucks, and ambulances are always rolling through the night shelter parking lot. I wonder how many houses have burned down while the fire department was fooling with this bunch.

It's not even that hot today, and tons of bottled water were handed out. I stock up on bottled water on the weekends.

Those ice cold pops are flying off the shelf after hours. The other popmonger doesn't have any pop, so he's sending customers to me. I had to cut them off just now so I can hit the hay.

(Android offered the fabulous "hit the stepmother.")

The name of my store is Ice Cold Pop.

Jeff has added snacks to his menu. He wants to sell different snacks from the other guy, who sells a lot of Little Debbies and ramen noodles. I think he has Twinkies and such.

At the night shelter, when they wake you up at 6AM and you roll out to the kitchen at 6:12, you're too late for a cup of coffee. Fuck you. Just fuck you.

I make enough off of pop sales to get a big cup of coffee anyway. So fuck you again.

The mattresses at the night shelter are thin and covered in plastic. Sometimes they have sheets and blankets, but usually not. The plastic mattresses make an annoying sound when the people who don't have sheets slide around on them.

I brought my own bedding when I fled. I put a heavy folded quilt over the mattress for a pad. It makes the mattress a little firmer. I have one of those breathable woven cotton blankets that I sleep under.

You have to pack all your stuff up and either put it in the storage room or take it with you when you go. There are no permanent assigned bunks. You have to tell the staffer at the front desk your bunk number before you leave to reserve it for that night.

I put my stack of folded blankets on top of my head and head for the exit. I put them in the back seat of my car. Then I go to one convenience store for coffee and the one across the street from it for cigarettes. Then I go park at the day shelter until the shade disappears and it starts getting hot. I usually go to the park for a few hours. In the afternoons, I pick up a bag of ice and more pops if needed. Then I go park at the night shelter and open the pop stand until check-in time.

I like Freida's idea of opening a shelter where they don't kick you out in the morning. People will never learn any sense of home life when the one shelter throws them out on the street at 7AM and the other at 3PM. That will only reinforce their feeling of being abandoned and discarded.

The weather is turning cooler. It's chilly this morning. I put on a thick long sleeve cotton shirt over my T-shirt. It may be cool enough today that I won't have to go to the park to escape the heat.

One day, Scott overheard some dude talking about how he's a player. The next day, he saw the same guy pushing a shopping cart full of shit. Krogering like a pimp, yo.

According to this video, the stepmother had been prepping me for discard for a long time. I wonder why she never did. I'm guessing it was because she couldn't find anyone else who would do all the things I did for her and Auntie for free. My, how that must've galled her. Big fish in the little pond runs out of little fish to eat.

I've no idea what role my dad might have played in saving me from discard. One of the last things the stepmother said to me before I left was that she had told him she was ready to get rid of me, and he told her to do whatever she wanted. I don't know if that's true. It may have been a ploy to convince me that my own dad agreed with her negative assessment of me.

I should call my dad and tell him he needs to choose between her and me.

Problem is he has a land line that he only ever answers at 9PM sharp. Everyone knows to call at that time so he'll know it's a legit call. She will most likely answer. She'll recognize my voice because it sounds uncannily like my dad's voice. I need someone else to call and ask for him.

"Do whatever you want" sounds more like apathy and resignation than agreement. I know my dad isn't happy. He's disgruntled about her spending his money. He drinks a lot just to make his situation more tolerable. I suspect he feels trapped and defeated like I did. I think the only reason he keeps her around is that he needs someone to take care of him in his old age. I wish he felt that he could depend on me for that. My leaving actually supports her narrative that I'm a bad egg.

Back at the night shelter, listening to country and western music.  Thinking about going to 7-Eleven for a Jimmy Dean and milk shortly.

The Deli Express breakfast croissant is a little more flavorful than the Jimmy Dean, and the crust is flakier. It's more like a freshly made sandwich.

I'm thinking about expanding my line like Jeff and the other pop merchant. I'm considering canned meats, but I couldn't sell them for 50 cents each. My first menu had drinks at various price points, and it didn't work as well as the 50 cent pop flat model.

Sectual. It's like Twitter for straight people.

(09-26-2022, 11:27 AM)user328 Wrote: I'm thinking about expanding my line like Jeff and the other pop merchant. I'm considering canned meats, but I couldn't sell them for 50 cents each. My first menu had drinks at various price points, and it didn't work as well as the 50 cent pop flat model.

If you can get the smaller/single serving cans of canned meat/tuna, sell them with a stack of crackers.

Seems like they can't resist the cans of vienna sausages, so try selling one or two cans with a stack of crackers.

I thought about throwing in some crackers. They'd have to be individually wrapped with a low unit cost.

I'd have to sell the Vienna sausages for a buck anyway. The 12-pack costs over $8, or more than 66 cents a can. Price points go in 25 cent increments in this racket, but 75 cents doesn't leave much of a margin, especially with crackers thrown in.