Today work was a real mess. Just a mess. I can't explain it any other way, it was just messy. The volume wasn't exageratedly too much; we've gotten more packages than that before - but I did over an hour and a half of overtime! So did Aaron; I'll bet he's glad. Tired, but glad. That kid loves his overtime. We're gonna hear it from the boss tomorrow, I'll bet. Ruben had said the latest he wanted us to stay was 11:45, and we got out after midnight. [insert low whistle here]

Speaking of Aaron and whistles, I'm getting that bad habit from him. I whistle about anything now, thanks to him. Methinks I've been hanging around him too much. But he's a cool kid, he's all right. And I really should stop calling him a kid; he is, after all, less than a year younger than me. But perhaps it's because he acts so much like a kid in my eyes; he needs to grow the fuck up, that kid. He'll be 21 this December. We'll be the same age for about two weeks or so. And then I'm so competitive with the guy! Really, I am. My horoscope says it's because I'm a Capricorn, and all Capricorns love to compete against other people. I dunno, but it drives me up the wall, sometimes, when he gets more overtime than I do. I can tell he feels the same way. We're always trying to out-perform each other. And he looked so smug, just now, when we got out of work about an hour ago, because he knew he got about two minutes of O.T. more than I did. Fucker.

Today I went shopping for some long-sleeved T-shirts at Walmart. I ran into Mar�a and her family there, and she helped me pick out a few shirts. Actually, no, she just took my cell phone from me and chatted to my sister for a while (I'd been on the phone with Dud at the time). I couldn't find any long-sleeved T's, so I got some baseball ones instead. They weren't too bad, and the price was even better. 6 bucks each, when you added taxes and everything, so I got five, one for each day of the work week. I got 'em Medium, but I might return them and get Large instead, although 'Ama said they looked fine like that. They fit me snug, and I don't like snug-fitting shit. I wear baggy clothes, always. We'll see.

My internet's doing the hooba-loo right now; it's all fucked up. I'll probably have to restart the computer before I can update this shit. Crap. Ugh.

I wish Marco were alive; I've been thinking about him lately. I wanna go see him at the cemetary, but I don't have time during the day, and I don't think the cemetary is open nights.