Slice the tomatoes. Clean the counters. Scrub; avocado stains.
Six days until full moon. It's raining. Two days ago it was snowing.
When I first watched Godzilla- the new one, with Matthew Broderick- I was struck by the rainy day, all the black umbrellas and the nice girl's lone red umbrella bobbing through the crowd.
Black umbrella. Black umbrella. Grey umbrella. Black. Black.Black.Black.Black. Red polka dots on white. Black. PINK! (not just pink, but insistently PINK!) Black.
None of them come inside. The calm "rush" of sandwiches and coffees has ceased. It's time to clean, I guess, but I don't want to.
Having to listen to other's conversations is going to drive me mad.
"Okay, I'm at this place, it's east of Bathurst. No, west. Wait, not east. On Queen. I didn't say King, you're on the wrong street. West of Bathurst. No, east. Dude, you just went right past us."
I refuse to quote any of the philosophical debates that rainy days seem to breed. They were just that bad. I may have suffered the drop in intelligence, but there is no call for putting anyone else through that.
And the ever fun:
"D00d, UR on a comp? Add me to UR MySpace!"
Grilled cheese and bacon on white. Small coffee. Yellow umbrella. Large coffee with soy.
My boss and manager were both out 'a-drinkin' last night. Entertaining, at least, to come in and have the question put forth, "Are you sober?"
In other news:
I have applied to a second Office Manager position. I may be under-qualified, but I may also not care. I am not paid enough (although I am paid well) to put up with this level of injury, both physical and mental.
I am justifying it to myself.
In otherother news:
Did you see misslake's boobs? Hotness.
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