A.M Conspiracy Part 1

I’ve been living in Texas for three months now. I got to work. I come home. I work on schoolwork. I eat. I end up in my bed at around ten thirty, which led me to wonder just how does Cinderella manage to stay up past twelve? I do the same thing all over again the next day. And the day after that. And so on and so on until the day I die…

I was not having it.

So about two weeks I booked a trip to…

An here was the problem. Where should I go? Back to Florida to see family and old friends down for summer break? Or should I completely get out of the south and head to the one place where I can really clear my mind.

That’s right folks. I headed to New York. Well mainly New York City but I’ll take New York just as well. Where else could I get the sights and sounds of culture that Texas hasn’t offered me yet. Where else can I get over priced food and drink while getting pushed around by hoards of people who barely speak any English?

Where else can I go through a spiritual awakening of my soul? Trust me it sounds way better than it actually is.

You see I’m still not here in texas. Still not a hundred percent here at least. And with each passing day, each passing six hour work day, and with each early night to bed and early rise to work I couldn’t help but wonder, “What can I do to change it?”

I’m going to talk about my job- candidly- because there is some Media Law Disclosure bullshit that I signed when I started.

Its not that I hated my job. I hated the people. The people of Texas are, to me, a little more stupider than those we left behind in Florida (minus those of you who are reading this.) They complain a lot. They complain that ticket prices are too much as they dig through their Calvin Klein wallet for a hundred dollar bill that hides with the others. They complain that the lines are too long when I was the only one willing to help them.

One guy even asked me, "Where are the theaters?" and, I mean, its not hard to find the theaters because they're in a GIANT SPACE RIGHT BEHIND ME. Like literally you can't miss it. We have signs that say THEATERS 1-10 and THEATERS 11-20 plastered all around us! 

One asshole complained that his movie previews ran for too long – about twenty-five minutes. He demanded a refund but stayed through the whole movie. I told him that couldn’t be done and that if he left before the actual movie started he would’ve gotten his money back. He yelled and cried and his fat little daughter was like, “Its eight thirty-three past my bedtime.” Like I gave a crap.

If you haven’t guessed by now that I work in a movie theater good job claps for you, you smarty pants. If you haven’t though, read through this again. If you still haven’t please email me with questions… there is a strange looking man looking at me from across the way.

I believe it’s a spy from my job waiting for me to talk shit.

Check back for updates.