No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service...

Last week I was all alone in the apartment as the man was away for the week.

Normally, I'm okay with being alone, but that particular week it seemed as though I couldn't get my bearings.

Prime and best example of this? Read on...

I was getting ready to go to work on Wednesday and when I woke up, started going through the usual routine of my preparation for the work day. I got up, hopped in the shower, made my lunch, fed the cat, cleaned the litter box, dried and straightened my hair, and ironed my shirt.

There's always lots to do in the short hour between wake up and departure, but I always manage to get it done.

I puttered around the house in my wife-beater while I gathered my belongings; cigarettes, wallet, purse, and the bag which carried all my goodies for the work day: book, notebook, good pen, and goodies.

Once I had completed all of my tasks, I set about putting on my jacket, grabbed my keys, rubbed Jack's belly and slid into my flip flops.

I arrive at work, turn on the lights, music, and front window display, and prepare to run down the hall to grab my staple breakfast of Pepsi and an A&W Ham and Egger.

I pop outside for a quick smoke before work, chat with some of the other poor slags that have to work too, and go in to start my open.

I clock in, stash my bags in the back, and take off my coat.

Alas, I am not wearing a shirt.

WTF?

How did I forget my shirt you ask? I have no flippin' clue. At all.

I went to work in my wife-beater. Nothing more.

Feck. What do I do now?

What any other retard who forgot to wear a shirt to work would do of course; I bought a pyjama top and put that on.

I repeat...

FECK.

Grubby Grab

If you're an avid reader, I'm sure you've noticed that work for me is rarely uneventful. It may be quiet, but it's NEVER boring.

There's always some fool you can make fun of as he/she walks by with a mullet, or wearing spandex and sandals with socks.

On what can only be called a "Special Day" last week, I was working away, minding my own business (as per usual) when a regular customer walked in. I walked over to begin the long task of helping her (She is a handful) when I noticed that unbeknownst to me, she had brought her young son.

Now, I normally enjoy children. Alot.

Not this child. At all.

He was, I'm sure, grown from the demon seed and has quite obviously grown into the devil incarnate in his short 4 and a half years.

So, I'm helping his mother, walking them both around the store, showing her the usual. Pyjamas, nighties, and the like, when demon-child starts to bounce around like a friggin' ball.

I'm serious, he wouldn't stand still. He was bouncing around, bobbing and weaving through racks, rolling on the floor, and jumping on the counter.

This, in the first 4 minutes of their arrival.

So, mom goes into the changeroom, and starts putting on her stuff. All the while, I can hear spawn chattering away.

They come out so ma can model her pj's (like I give a shit) and spawn starts running again. Ma wants a set of pj's that are on the wall, so I grab my trusty long hook and attempt to get them down with little to no effort.

That is, until spawn comes over.

He asks if I can show him how to use the hook. I oblige. Only because I think it may get them out of the store quickly.

Not so.

Mom and spawn are tottering around the store looking at more things, when spawn grabs the hook, runs over to his own wall, and attempts to take down some bras.

I am, at this point, cringing, as would you, I promise. I am envisioning things flying off the walls, landing on the floor, and being left there for me to fix. I pray that this doesn't happen.

To my dismay, it doesn't.

What does happen however, is that Ma needs another pair of pj's. They've been here for approximately a half hour at this point.

I grab the hook, spawn follows. I think he's merely going to help me get the pj's down.

Not so much.

Instead, I am mid-reach, aiming for the pj's, while spawn is also in mid-reach.

For my boob.

That's right. My right boob.

It was also very clearly it was pre-meditated, as it was not his arm that brushed up against my boob, or his hand reaching for the pole while grazing a little boob edge.

It was a full-on, reach up, open handed, boob squeeze.

I didn't know what to do. What does one do when the spawn of Satan grabs one of your mammaries? I felt like I needed a shower.

Do I tell his mother? (Who, by the way, is completely oblivious.) Do I grab spawn, put him in a headlock and throw down?

I didn't know.

So, instead, I grabbed the pj's, gave them to Ma, threw the kid an evil look, and walked away.

I did however contemplate asking spawn out for dinner afterwards.

Is that wrong?

I'll get you good....

Twas a quiet day at work the other day, so when it came time to go for a break, I was good and ready.

I took my first break at around 2:30 that afternoon and proceeded to go about my usual routine. I went to my favorite sitting spot, opened my book, and lit my smoke.

As I'm relaxing, I notice the resident crazy (We'll call him RC for short) sitting on the bench by the wall, mumbling, and staring off into space.

I promptly finish my break, which takes about 15 minutes, and as I'm going back into the mall, I notice that RC is still sitting there.

I work for a couple more hours, and then a few of the girls from other stores come recruit me for another break.

Three of us proceed outside and sit in my favorite spot. RC is still sitting on the bench, either keeping it warm or holding it up. At this point, I'm not sure.

So, we proceed with our smoke, we're chatting away, discussing the events of the day, when we're off, the usual.

All of a sudden, RC, who has been silent up until this point, bolts up from the bench, grabs his bags, and runs half way into the parking lot.

This is the part of the blog, where, if you must use the washroom, go now.

So, we're sitting there, all alerted to the fact that RC has run into the middle of the parking lot, and wondering what the hell is going on.

All of a sudden, RC starts shaking his fist in the air.

We snicker.

Then, out of nowhere, RC yells:

"FUCK YOU!!! I'll get you next time you cocksucker!!"

All three of us look at the others, wonder who is going to lose it first, and all burst out laughing together. At this point, we're not sure who or what RC is yelling at, and we're all a little scared of him at the same time, so we stifle our laughter quickly. We're not sure if when he notices we're laughing at him if he'll:

A) Come over and beat us up
B) Come over and talk to us
C) Come ask for smokes
D) All of the above

Instead, he saunters back to the bench, hoists his bags beside him, and settles back in.

We're not entirely sure if he was shaking his fist at the fact that a bus left, presumably without him on it, the air, which is entirely possible, or at something completely different.

I guess we'll never know.

But, it was still the laugh of the day.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

The Girl in the Bubble

So, the man says I should be in a bubble.

All the time.

I am starting to think he's right. Let's see; I'm always sick, sore, and/or sick AND sore. I fall alot, bang into things, walk into walls, and roll my ankles.

Bubble? Starting to look promising.

Picture this: I was leaving for work on Tuesday morning. It was raining. Heavily. My back stairs are slimy.

(I attribute this to the fact that when the stairs were newly built, they were not treated with any sort of stain or whatever else it is that you put on new stairs when built.)

Soooo.... I'm carefully descending the staircase while holding on to the side rail, my pants (so I don't get too wet at the bottoms), and bags. I am thinking the whole time that I am going to go tits up down the entire flight.

Lo and Behold, I make it to the bottom in one piece and relatively dry to boot.

This success was short lived.

Once I get to the safety of the landing, in what seems like it can only be occurring in slow motion, one foot crosses behind the other, causing the foot in the front to kick forward. I see my purse gliding to the left, my lunch/carry-all bag soaring to the right, and my arms looking for something other than air to grab ahold of.

No such luck.

I hear a muffled snap (my spine I believe), as my upper body twisted in such a way I never thought possible, a whoooshing sound, (my body in flight), and a sort of "Shucking" sound. (The rest of me sliding along the slime covered landing)

Imagine a newborn giraffe.

Limbs, neck, wierd noises. The whole nine yards.

I didn't fall per se, I more like caught my body, mid-air from crumpling into a heap on the stairway.

It was certainly a close call. I was able to regain my composure before walking around the building to go to my car.

I was also able to hide this hilarity from the man who was looking out the window on the other side of the building. He was none the wiser to my close-call.

The only side effect of the complete disarray that my poor body was in?

Bad back and lack of bending skills for the better part of the day.

Who needs to bend anyway?

Hoppin' Homos Batman!

You know when you see something or someone that you just can't tear your eyes away from?

You really want to, but you just can't seem to stop staring?

That happened to me today, but it wasn't pleasant to look at. Not even a little.

I'm working hard in the store, minding my own business, when I look across the hall at Le Chateau. Let it be known that I usually love looking over there.

For research and professional purposes only.

Today unfortunately, something other than pretty tank tops and shiny things caught my eye.

It was someone who closely resembled a cross between Don Johnson circa 1984, George Michael circa 1992, and maybe Keith Urban. (Who I know only because I love gossip mags and websites, and know that he is marrying Cruiseazy's ex-wife.)

Don Michael Urban was wearing a turquoise top (one which can only be described as a blouse), a pair of flared bottom jeans (which were extremely distressed, grate holes, faded in all the right places, and so extremely tight on the thigh that I thought I would either see cock and balls, or pull a hamstring), a puka shell choker-style necklace, multiple silver rings, an earring, and shiny shoes.

Very shiny shoes.

DMU was also in possession of the latest hairstyle.

For women.

If it weren't for the lightning shaped sideburns, I would have guessed that he was sporting a weave. These sideburns were precision cut. We're talking, he must have taken a nose hair trimmer and gotten so close to the mirror, (Which I'm guessing he does anyway) that he could see every hair follicle and root.

A recent purchase of "Frost & Glow" must have been on his grocery list, because this guy was frosted to the tips. Holy Feck. He had a full-blown Farrah on the go. Flips, wings, frost, and just the right amount of mousse.

My hair has NEVER looked so good. Ever. I felt like Rumplestiltskin compared to this beauty.

Now that I'm on the hair, let's picture something together shall we? If you're good, you might even want to try it at home...

Slow motion now...

Look to the left.

Slowly bring your head to face the front.

Put your chin against your chest in the process.

Flip to the right while arcing your head up.

You have all just done the ultimate hair flip. Be proud of yourselves. Applaud yourselves. Give yourselves a cookie.

You can up your pace if you think that you can pull it off.

If you're talented, REALLY talented, you might even want to try it from right to left.

I promise you, it CAN be done.

I've never in my entire 25 and a half years experienced anything quite so gay.

And...... Scene.

Holy Mackerel!

Just a couple of funny anecdotes to keep you coming back...

Saturday past. Long day, not real busy. Loads of rotten hooligans, senior citizens, and young mothers. The day goes as planned, helping customers, taking breaks, listening to screaming children and swearing young ones.

All day, as you may know, the poor woman/girl/man/boy that is sitting at the information booth/guest services area of the mall are announcing things.

"Joe Blow, please return to the tire department at Sears, you forgot your baby."

"Sally Mae, please return to La Senza, you left your furry thong."

"Will the woman who just purchased the extra large condoms and the Preparation H please return to Shoppers."

"Would the person with license plate BLO-ME please return to your car, you left your headlights on."

And so on and so forth...

Well, this particular Saturday afternoon, things on the P.A front were pretty normal until about 4 pm. This is the announcement that was heard mall round.

"Anita Beaver, please come to guest services... ANITA BEAVER."

It should be said that I have a perverse mind. Extremely perverse. But still.. Come on!! Anita Beaver??

As soon as the poor woman, who clearly got duped into announcing this utterly hilarious name, was finished saying this over the loud speaker, I whipped my head around to see if anyone else heard this.

It appeared that I was the sole witness to the hilarity. I look to the employee that was working with me. She did not respond. In the least. I was devastated.

Said employee is also in her 60's so I didn't think that she would actually get the importance of such an announcement. But still. I thought maybe, just maybe, she would get it. No such luck.

Since I had nobody to share this moment with, I hurried to the back room and sent a quick text message to my brother, who I knew would get the joke.

He didn't get the joke. He didn't even get the message. All that typing I did on the tiniest keypad imaginable. I was too lazy to send it again later, so I called my mom.

At least she laughed. I'm convinced that I get my sick sense of humour from her.

Amen. Thanks Mom! You make me proud.

xo

I'm such a slacker!

I'm sorry! I'll be back soon!!

Pizza and Hairballs

Yesterday afternoon while I was at work, I got an exciting yet disturbing call from the man. He called to see if I wanted him to make me a pizza that would be ready when I got home from work at 9.

I jumped at that offer.

Free homemade pizza? That I don't have to make myself?

Hell Yes.

So I proceed with my evening as normal, quietly excited at the fact that I am going to get a nice warm meal after work. (This isn't a regular occurrance if you are wondering...)

The pizza eating passes without incident.

That is until about 25 minutes after the eating has subsided.

The man turns off the lights in the living room (Which is where we eat) so that the television watching can be done just so. We watch the first little bit of Lost, and all of a sudden, I hear:

"Hmm.. What's this?"

A few moments pass.

"Eww, what IS this?"

A few more seconds pass.

I turn on the light and look over to the source of the "Eww-ing".

The man is holding in his hand a real life, genuine, cat-made furball. We're talking fur, the loogie he may or may not have horked not long before the pick-up was made, and other various cat rejections.

I wish someone other than me could have been there to witness the face that was made.

It was a fine blend of the following:

Disgust
Horror
Possible Vomit Scrunch Face
Impending Tears
Nostril Flare
Half Smile (probably because he thought it wasn't real)
And finally,
Possible Vomit Scrunch Face

I looked over at him, contemplated bursting into laughter, and instead, sympathetically offered my open palm for the discarding of the furball.

When I came back, the man said something that no person should ever say, no matter what the circumstances, or what may or may not have been on the floor at any given time.

"I thought it was cheese."

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm all for the "Five Second Rule", but cheese?

Never.

Especially if it has come off the floor.

When you own a cat.

Who sheds alot.


Enough said.

Holy Crap Balls

I woke up this morning with the intention of making myself a delicious sandwich for work, and leaving on time.

I made the sandwich. Not without problems though. First, the bread that was left had a hole in it. How? I don't know. I made due with what I had though, and continued to prepare my delicious sandwich.

I go to the fridge to get my condiments next. I got the mayo, turkey, cheese, and mustard. Everything was going smoothly. I got the mayo, turkey, and cheese on without incident. When it came to putting on the mustard however, I had some problems.

I shook the bottle. As you do. Usually. I thought.

I should have known something was amiss by the clunk sound that eminated from said mustard bottle, but alas, I proceeded. I turned it over to face the bread.

I squeezed.

I wondered where it was.

It came.

Fast.

And spray-like.

Feck.

All over my beautiful navy blue, perfectly worn in, shouldn't have been wearing it in the morning Roots hoodie.

I didn't notice until I came home today after work and put it on (As I usually do) and the boy asked me what was all over me. I then looked down and noticed that I had tarnished my beauty.

Sob.

Here's to hoping that tomorrow's lunch preparation goes more smoothly.

Feckitty Feck

The day started with a groan and a shock. I rolled over and looked at the clock and saw that it said 11:30.

Which was 10:30.

Which was confusing.

First, I thought that I had to work and that I was going to be late.

Second, I was upset that I might have to get out of bed to go to said place of employment.

I quickly came to realize that I was neither late, or in danger of having to go to work.

Once I was perfectly clear on the fact that the time had gone ahead last night and that I was in no danger of having to leave my apartment, I was able to go on with my day.

I did approximately 5 loads of laundry, 1 extremely full load of dishes, I gave the tub a good scrub, and I made supper. It was delicious if I do say so myself.

The cat and I also had a photo shoot. It was quite fun. He's rather photogenic and loves to pose. (Not really, but it looks like it. )

I played some online poker with my mother, promptly gave her most of the money that I had won in the past couple of days and am now back at 0. Zero. Nada.

*sniff*

The countdown to work tomorrow is on. I am not looking forward to it. I imagine it will be filled with such wondrous things as saggy boobs, cranky seniors, and lurky men in coveralls who walk by the bathing suit lightbox and smile.

Goody.

Nothing Day

So, nothing much happened today. It was a pretty blah day. I'll have more exciting news tomorrow for yous. You know who you are!!

xo

J

The Simple Life... Part Deux

Just when you think they've all gone home and you're safe for another day. Out they come again. The short bus rolls back into town and you're left to fend for yourself. You can't outrun them. You can't hide. You can't escape. They know where you are and just how to find you. Don't try to figure out how. It just is. It's as simple as that.

So I'm outside of the mall having a smoke break with a couple of other gals. I bring my book. I always do. I'm a loner. I like to sit alone, read my book, and have a smoke. Not this day. Not even a little. I go out and start to chat with the other ladies when this "gentleman" (And I use the term "gentleman" ever so lightly) comes up to where we are all sitting. He's talking to himself. Not in a mumbling sort of way either. He's full-fledged talking to himself. And loving it.

We keep on about our business. Business being smoking and talking about various crazies we've seen that day or how dead it is in our various stores. All of a sudden, this "gentleman" freaks out. Loudly. He seems to have misplaced his lighter. He's yelling and screaming and pacing frantically. Someone miraculously locates said missing lighter. With no thank you, "gentleman" continues on his way.

We take a couple more drags and "gentleman" returns. With a vengeance. He's yelling a little bit louder now. He then decides that he needs to take a rester and sits down a little bit from us. Now it's time to roll a joint.

That's right.

A joint.

At the mall.

On a Thursday afternoon.

In plain sight.

Somebody must have called security because out comes one of our finest guards threatening to call the cops. Well, "gentleman" freaks out (After completing the smoking of the joint) and then decides to show us how he would fight the po-po should they show up. He demonstrates his best judo chops, roundhouse kicks, crouching tiger, hidden dragon shit and says that he will bust these moves on the cops.

Keep in mind that we only had a few minutes for a break and clearly over ran our time limits while staying for the show. We must have smoked a pack between 4 of us and nobody could breathe when we went in. You just can't leave while that sort of free show is going on.

If that weren't enough, "gentleman" must have come down from his Mary Jane high. He finally realizes that the cops have been called and begins to host another spaz session. (Keep in mind that it's been about 10 minutes since the police have been called and clearly aren't coming.) He starts yelling that he can't find the keys to his vehicle and he needs to leave.

Us girls are still trying not to piss ourselves since nobody wore their depends and are trying not to look at Judo Chop. Some random person locates "gentleman's" key and he scurries off in search of his vehicle.

About 4 minutes later, as we're all laughed out and ready to go back to work, "gentleman" comes burning around the corner in his vehicle.

It was a mini BMX motorbike. 0.5 horsepower. Aptly suited for a 7 year old with training wheels.

Wait for it....




You may now laugh.

The Simple Life...

I went in to work today expecting a normal, work filled day. Little did I know that the construction workers who are renovating the store behind mine could potentially see all that goes on in my back room.

Turns out they can.

They so can.

They so did. Well, one of them did. And dear God, did he get an eyeful.

I was getting ready to go clean up the back room to prep for inventory and had to change out of my work clothes into a grubby t-shirt. It can get dirty back there, and I didn't want to get covered in dust.

Turns out that both dressing rooms were full so I opted to go into the back room. Usually it seems harmless to do so because nobody can see in or over the wall separating the stores.

Anyway, I'm unbuttoning my blouse and getting my t-shirt prepped.

Blouse is off, t-shirt is on my arms. You know the position, your arms are in the sleeves, but it's not over your head yet.

It's almost over my head now, and for some unknown reason, I decide to look up. Guess what I see? A smiling, slightly red-faced construction worker.

I proceed to pull the t-shirt over my head. Look down, and scurry out of the back room towards the front of the store.

A couple of minutes later, the power in our store goes out momentarily. Turns out the workers are on the same breaker as us. One can only assume that at the sight of my voluptuous mammaries, said horny construction worker blew a fuse. Or cut a power cord while thinking about the twins.

They are the 8th Wonder of the World.

No wonder I want a reduction. Brings grown men to blowing their circuits.

My Day

10:45- Get out of bed, shower, dry, dress.

11:20- Sit for a smoke

11:35- Leave for work

11:53- Go to corner store, get cold water

12:00- Start my day, play with panties (not mine)

12:30- Check watch, it's not 9pm yet. Damn

1:00- Check watch again, still not 9, arrange said playful panties

2:00- Smoke break, read 2 chapters of book

2:30- Assistant goes on lunch, I sing, dance around store a little, wish it was 9

2:45- Wax racks, arrange clothing

3:00- Check watch again, maybe it's broken

3:15- Bathroom break, detour by music and book stores

4:00- Go for smoke break, read 1 page, gossip with other mall workers

4:15- Check watch, almost supper

4:45- Send assistant on break, ring in one solitary $4.99 bathing suit cover-up

5:00- Supper time, heat up cup-a-soup

5:05- Shake, Shake, Shake my Crystal Light

5:14- Finished cup-a-soup, read some book. Loiter in back room

6:00- Supper over, send assistant home, wish it was 9

7:00- Look busy, flick clothing on racks to make shuffling, clinking noises

7:15- Check all available time pieces, still not 9

7:30- Talk to boyfriend and parents on the phone briefly

8:00- Start counting cash, cleaning up work area

8:30- Almost time to leave!!

8:45- Put out garbage, pull in racks and check time

9:00- Announcement goes off, mall is closed, Boob Lady is HAPPY!!

9:03- Inhale delicious nectar of cigarette in car on way home

Monkey See, Monkey Do

We went to the zoo today. Let me tell you, I didn't want to go out. I wanted to laze around in my pyjamas all day and do nothing. Laundry, clean, cook, eat, sleep. That's it. Nothing more.

After much deliberation, (And might I add, a few carefully placed pouts on the man's part) I sucked it up and we left.

Amazingly, I had a good time. I yukked it up with a zebra, I let a donkey lick my hand, and I got some funny pictures of monkeys doing cute things.

These monkeys were very smart. It was like they were little old men. One of them was born in 1980, which to me, just seems wrong. I mean, the frigging monkey is my age. Another, Gina, was born in 1971. Hilarious. She looked it too. :)

The highlight of the afternoon though, was probably when the lions we were calmly watching began to fight. It was short lived however, much to the chagrin of the man, who was egging them on. He really wanted to see a lion fight.

Better luck next time I suppose.

All in all it was a fun afternoon. It was even funnier when we came home and he challenged the neighbour to a one-on-one game of basketball for money. The man kicked said neighbour's ass from here to Tuesday. It was hilarious.

The neighbour is five.

You may all bow your heads.

Greatest Phone Call EVER

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you have toys there?"

"I do not, no."

"What about lotions, oils, that kind of thing?"

"I'm sorry, no. I don't have anything like that here, we have pyjamas, bras, that kind of thing."

"Okay."

"Sorry I couldn't help you. Have a nice night."

"Oh, wait!"

"Yes?"

"Do you know where I could find toys and things like that?"

"Um... Maybe you should try one of the adult stores, they'd have stuff like that."

"Okay, thanks."

Uhhh, WTF??

Seriously, how many classy lingerie shops carry toys?

Not frigging many.

So why do I always get the wierdos?

Who knows.

Just plain lucky I guess.

Beach Anyone?

So we went to the beach today. No, you're right. It IS March 15th. And it WAS cold. Very cold.

It might have had something to do with the fact that I wore sandals. Meh.

We got some beach treasure and some pictures. The pictures are grey, windy, and cold. Oh, wait, that's what it was like outside.

I thought I might lose a toe, but alas, it was only numb. Not gone. I cranked the heat on my poor purple tootsies and managed somehow to save them. All 10. Makes you appreciate the fact that, although you don't need them all the time, they look great in sandals.

Usually, like when they're not purple, frozen solid, and tingling.

Love your toes, appreciate them, honor them. Don't go to the beach before June.

Cankles

I feel like I have cankles tonight.

Big, fat, juicy cankles.

Being on your feet all day with hardly any customers and one solitary box of transfers takes its toll on my poor gams.

The day was uneventful as it was, the most action I got today was the strange man that kept walking by my store and staring at my light box. While smiling. Strangely.

I should tell you that in my light box, there is a half naked woman, who has been perfectly sprayed with some sort of vegetable oil to look wet, and is posing provacatively.

If you ask me, she just looks greasy. We're talking trailer trash greasy. The way I can look on a Sunday if I choose not to shower on my day off.

And, it looks like her arm is broken. In more than one place.

Meh. I'm off anyway, and back in the morning. A few hours of peace never hurt anyone.

Bwaaaahh!!!

All in all it was another lazy Sunday. Nothing much happened. Must have eaten something that did not agree with me (Although, that's not an unlikely occurance as it is...) and spent most of my day in a ball on the couch.

Meh.

My boyfriend thinks that I have a gambling problem. You see, I sit at the computer and play online poker a few times a day. Okay, most of the day. When I'm off.

Okay, and when I get off work too. But, it's not real money. It's all play, and it's fun. Lots and lots of fun.

The funny thing is, that when he was playing a "few" hands this evening, he lost me about 22k. In one hand. A bad one. So, after that happened, it was okay for me to play for a bit, because, you see, it was only play money.

Who's the gambler now biatch?

xo

The Hills Have Eyes...

...and I wonder if they can see that I now have a major case of Quasimodo neck. We were super stoked to go to the movie tonight and when we got there two terrible things happened.

1) The line-ups for food were waaaay long and I didn't get anything to eat. Did you hear me? I didn't get anything to eat. *sniff*

2) We ended up having to sit in the front row since all of the other good seats were taken. Fack.

There's nothing I hate more than being in the front row of the movie theatre. With no food to boot.

All in all the movie was good, which made the terrible seating and LACK OF FOOD somewhat bearable.

Work was okay today, not many crazies in the mall. March break is almost over and all of the hooligans will soon be back in school. It couldn't come a moment too soon. If I had to watch one more pre-pubescent couple making out on the bench in front of my store, I was going to toss my cookies.

Whether I ate any or not.