Damn.
Well, say what you like, but never say I did not throw a fuckin' awesome party. Delicious burgers were made. 3 lbs of ground beef, a handful of rosemary, a palm's worth of thyme, dash of salt and pepper, one or two hearty splashes of worcestershire sauce. Grill and enjoy. Delicious.
Then commenced the epic five hour beruit tournament. Christ. The only thing of note besides the length was the complete and utter lack of loyalty to establishes teams. Well, that and the astounding trick shot off the second story balcony inside that bounced off the slanted ceiling, onto the floor and then landed on the table in front cup. We will speak of it for many years.
Work today was an especially good example of why English majors should rule the world. Why can no one communicate anymore? If you say, for example, that I should make a bucket of sandwich lettuce and nothing more, then I will stop when I have made one bucket of sandwich lettuce. More importantly, I will be confused and irritated when you ask me if I have made salad lettuce yet. I will ask 'Didn't you only want one bucket of sandwich lettuce?'. And if the reply I receive is 'Yes' then I will continue to stare at you in a confused manner. It should not, under any circumstances whatsoever take you a further two minutes to communicate that you would also like a bucket of salad lettuce and another bag of the regular mix to be chopped, especially given that you said nothing about this in the first place.
In addition, you should choose whether you want me to do sandwiches or lettuce, one or the other. Nothing should be simultaneous no matter how 'dead' the store is. I do not like to do things half-way. You will give me a task and then I will do it and then you will give me another and I will do it. Cut all this other bullshit out. In case it hasn't been figured yet: Yes, my manager, I'm talking directly about you. Your mouth, the words that come out of it, fix that shit.
Back home. Laptop charger is muchly dead, which means its the desktop for me for the forseeable future. Baw. Gonna go stalk the internet while my mother naps. Later.
- The Aftermath of Indepence
( Come On, Bring It! )
