Tuesday is PaydayCommentary • ISSUE 30•05 • Sep 11, 1996 By Jim Anchower – The Cruise Hola mis amigos. Gettin' any? I know it's been a while since I rapped at ya, but I been up to my ass with shit that I had to do. First and foremost, HBO has been showin' all the Eddie Murphy movies, including a new one called The Making of the Nutty Professor. So, naturally, I had to catch up on some required viewing with some good buds, if you catch my drift. Add to that the fact that I had to replace the clutch, sparkplug wires and a tire, and re-align the wheels, and you can guess that this just wasn't my month. On top of all that, I been busting my ass at Denman's Auto Parts Warehouse as a warehouse guy. I was thinking when I took the job that I could sort of swipe the parts I need for my own car, but they run it tighter than a nun's undies there. Every time I think I'm alone, and I can shove a few brake pads down my pants, the shipping supervisor comes over and starts watching me like a damn panther eyeing a steak. Next time, I'm just gonna grab him by the ears and twist his head off. Now, you all know that normally I don't lose my cool like that, and you're probably surprised to hear me make such a threat. Well, there's a reason for that. See, I started this job about a month ago, and because of some B.S. they didn't give me my first-ever check there when they were supposed to. "Some mix-up in accounting," they said. Yeah, right. I'll mix them the hell up. The long and short of it is that I got no cash, and I haven't for some time now, and it's gettin' me a bit tensed out. I've had to pass up my usual smooth brew, Miller Genuine Draft, and go for the Red, White and Blue. I haven't even had any weed to call my own in two weeks, and I'm jonesin' for a toke right about now. Hell, I've even had to limit my cruising to three days a week to save on gas. I don't know if I can take any more of these indignities. The only thing that's keeping me going is that next Tuesday is payday. Payday! I can hardly wait! See, the upside of all this is that my next check is going to be a monster, what with all the money I was supposed to get for my last one, plus all the money from my new one! Now, I am a modest man, so I won't divulge how much I am making. But let's just say that I'll have enough for beer and smoke and fine food and entertaining the ladies, as well as finally getting that Mustang I've had my eye on, especially since the dude offered to knock another $75 off the price because his wife wants it out of the front yard. I haven't gotten paid since my last job, and that's kind of why I don't have that job any more. See, I got my check, and I was all set to get that Mustang. But on my way to the bank to cash it, I ran into my friend Ron. Turned out that he wanted to borrow 10 bucks until his next payday. I figured that Ron was a pal and he would do the same for me if our shoes were on other feet, so I said sure. Sure enough, Ron talks me into going to the Gamey Doe, a sports bar that has its own drink called the Gamey Doe, which is a glass of beer with a shot of cool mint gin in it. He said he just wanted to go in to watch the motocross, but I knew Ron has a weakness for Gamey Does and those honey mustard pretzels. Ron was all generous and offered to buy the first round, but then he made like he forgot his wallet. I guess he also forgot that I just loaned him 10 bucks. What a dick! By the third lap of the motocross, Ron was ripped to the tits. I mean, he ran into three waitresses in one trip to the bathroom. When he got back, I said, "Amigo, there's better ways to cop a feel than that." But instead of laughing, he just rolled his head and fell over. So I sort of hoisted him up and carried him down the block to my car. Of course, just when I'm tryin' to help a friend in need, who should we run into but Johnny Law. He came up and asked if I've got some sort of problem. I told him that I got a drunk friend that I'm trying to help out, and thanks a lot for asking, but we'll be on our way. Well, he says, "I sure hope you aren't driving in that condition." I say, "You must have his condition and my condition confused, officer, because I've only had a few beers." Then he puffed up and said he'll put me in jail for disorderly conduct before he'll let me get behind the wheel of that car. I said all polite like, "Thank you for your concern, officer. I really appreciate it," and started walking in the other direction. I turned back to see if the cop was gone, but he was standing right there watching me. If I didn't have to hold up Ron, I'd have flipped him the bird and split, but it's hard to take off with 170 pounds of drunk hangin' off ya. Pigs, man—they suck! So, I ended up walking Ron the three miles back to his place. By the time we got there, I was so wiped out that I fell asleep on his couch. The next morning, I woke up and realized I was without my wheels. Ron wasn't waking up, so I hiked the three miles back to where my car was, only to find out my car was towed! Those pigs just set me up so they would make money off of me! Man, I was pissed. So anyway, I had to spend the whole day tracking down my car, and by the time I got it, I was three hours late for work, so I decided not to go in, 'cause the job sucked anyway. So since then, I haven't had any cash. But all that's changed now, hombres, cause Tuesday's payday! So, if you don't hear from me for a while, you'll know why. I'm gonna be indulging in some well-deserved high living. Send help if I don't come back soon. Except don't send any cops, 'cause I hate cops.