Well, my girlfriend did say to throw EVERYTHING in the laundry basket straight into the machine, so… uh… here goes, I guess. I hope he can hold his breath well.
If I ever meet one of those people who introduces themselves by saying their name, followed by ‘of‘ and the name of their company that they’ve named after themselves, you can bet your fucking legs that I will elbow drop them on the top of the head.
My asshole cat won’t stop being an asshole and individually tearing every single decoration off of Becky’s Christmas tree (while I, admittedly, sit and do pretty much nothing about it).
Anyway, a second ago, I decided that enough was probably enough, and walked over there to stop him, and as if he bloody knew, he clawed onto a branch that held a small, hard, acorn-style decoration thing, dragged it back and fired it over his shoulder and right into my eye, before he (knowing what he’d done, because he’s a clever little asshole) leapt down and ran out the room, leaving my disorientated just long enough to trip over a coffee table and lose track of him.
Such an asshole.
Jasmine: Your ability with words.amazes me.
Jasmine: Fuck. I mean ‘amazes me.’
Felix: Oop, Jasmine.
Felix: That first full stop was a little early.
Felix: “My little brother… always so eager to get ahead.“
Felix: “Every day I tell him ‘No, Pedro. We wait for end of sentence’, but he no listen.”
Felix: “Poor Pedro. He was too esscited.”
Jasmine: My hand slipped and I have no autocorrect!
Felix: “And then… one day… he get stuck on top of lower case ‘I’.”
Felix: “We… never see heem again.”
Jasmine: I love you.
Jasmine: You dumb ass.
Felix: “And every day… mama and papa say ‘Why Riccardo? Why you no look after heem? Why you let heem run ahead?”, but I say nothing. It was… my fault.”
Felix: “I should have protected heem.”
Jasmine: I’m hearing this in Cartman’s Mexican voice.
Felix: That’s the voice it was written in.
Me: You know what we need around here? More funny people. Like me. More funny people like me. That’s what we need around here.
Simon: Who says you’re funny? Who tells you that you’re funny?
Me: Uhh… My affirming and supportive imaginary friend, obviously.
Simon: I -
Me: My affirming and supportive imaginary friend is called Derek.
Simon: Right. Well, he -
Me: She. Derek is a she.
Simon: Well, if she thinks that you’re funny, then she needs to go and get her head tested.
Me: Derek doesn’t have a head. She’s imaginary, you idiot.
Simon: Fine! Then she needs to go and get her imaginary head tested!
Me: She doesn’t have an imaginary head either, stupid!
Simon: I swear to god…
Me: Why would a talking unicycle have an imaginary head!?
Simon: … … …
There’s a little charity competition thing going at work at the moment, where customers can pay £1 to ‘name the bear‘, and the best name entry gets to keep it.
Anyway, I was having a peer through all the entries today, and some absolute ass hat has entered the name Serendipity.
For a teddy bear. Serendipity.
Oh, aren’t you so quaint and thoughtful? How about ‘Whimsy‘, or ‘A Dream, Perchance‘, or ‘Autumn Smile‘, or ‘Flecks of Memory‘, or ‘I Went to The Park Today, and An Old Man Whispered Soft Things to me Before He Passed Away in My Arms‘.
It was a long night on the bar tonight, and with me to bear it was Simon, one of the new bartenders. I’ll cut this story short and get straight to the fun part. Before long we got bored enough to start playing ‘the cat game’, wherein you try to sneak the word ‘meow’ into serving a customer. Anyway, we started getting really brave with this, but no one was catching on; even when we were bursting out laughing at overhearing each other. Eventually, we decided to spice it up by just saying random animal names. It still didn’t work, because no one ever listens to the people serving them. Before long it was just a tirade of nonsense words and gibberish. This is how far it all got, and this is a genuine, exact transcript.
The movie, I mean… Not the guy: that’d be crazy. Anyway, I’m not going to talk about that, you’re not interested in my ‘review’.
What I will talk about however, is the three guys sat behind Becky and I. It’s weird, I’m pretty much a robot; with all my disassociation and PTSD, I pretty much don’t feel any emotion… Except for one.
In the garden of the bar in which I work, there are a load of outside tables for customers to eat and drink on when the weather is nice; and tragically, this means that hot days consist of me running up and down an endless parade of stone steps and balconies, littered with plates and glasses and worst of all, people. Most of the tables are in one big, triple tiered area to the right of the staircase. However there does sit one solitary table to the left… Table 32. My enemy.
Why the dramatic moniker, you ask? It’s because table 32 lies across a small area of grass, with stepping stones leading up to it; large slabs embedded into the greenery. Now, I don’t know if it’s because of my height, I’m fairly tall, or if they’re just designed to drive people insane like that Chinese torture method where they tie someone down and leave a leaking tap dripping on their head for days, but these steps are not the correct distance apart for one to just normally traverse them. Now, I know I could just walk on the grass alongside the stones, but as small a diversion as it is, it is still a diversion, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some inanimate slabs of rock tell me where I can and cannot walk, so I do at least have to stay the course; which leaves me with but two scenarios…
This morning was the first time I’ve ever been late for my new job. I figured it wouldn’t matter, since I open up the store on my own, and have half an hour before I start letting in customers anyway. It was also the first time ever that the boss of the company had decided to come early to see how I got on, so of course she was already there waiting, phone in hand, about to ring me. Thank fuck, it was only ten minutes. So that was screw up number one…