Just when I thought my security guard job of taking saunas, lounging around in the jacuzzi, doing my laundry, watching cable TV and napping at the Casa De Toro apartment complex in Culver City couldn't get any better than this, it did. It DID get better.
Friday I brought my swimming trunks, towels, reading material and alarm clock to work and there was a party going on in the apartment complex's clubhouse. Drunk women plied me with pate de fois gras, brie, sushi, couscous, tabouli and all manner of h'orduerves and appetizers. Then they threw (liquor-induced) passes at me.
My GP roommate Anthony back at the veterans' shelter calls me "The Ghetto Riley" (as in 'living the life of Riley'). He's jealous. He got a job as a taxi scheduler at L.A. Airport. He has to stand on hard concrete 7 and a half hours a day at the L.A.X. curb calling taxis for the tourists. His Arab bosses harass him all day long.
That's right. Airport taxi security at L.A.X. is run by Arabs. What a revoltin' situation that turned out to be . . . for Anthony.
No comments:
Post a Comment