2004-12-18 - 6:44 p.m.

Sometimes on Saturday and Sunday mornings I will take coffee just as soon as there is enough in the pot that is brewing to have half a cup. This is because I don’t go about my weekday routine on weekends (which is start coffee, take shower while it is brewing). Because I get up at the same time but have to be to work later than I do during the week. Anyway, on such mornings I will pour that deep, black sludge into my cup (I make coffee strong anyway so that first little bit is like sludge) and then fill it with a bunch of milk. In my usual coffee I use a little half and half but filling a cup halfway with half and half is just silly for various reasons. So this morning I got the milk out. I just bought it the other day and can’t remember having to use it for anything since I bought it. BUT…the top wasn’t screwed on completely, the seal was broken. And…I used it anyway. Against all those things they warn you about. Because that is the way I am. You know, I’m the girl that took a big swig of gas station coffee once and found a fly in my mouth and never breathed a word until AFTER I had finished the coffee and I laughed and told Eric and Alex that there had been a fly in my coffee. Because I didn’t want anyone to stop the car to get more, I didn’t want to raise a ruckus and frankly, I didn’t really care because I am certain that at some point there is a fly in EVERY cup of coffee. Like flies aren’t ever going to land on a coffee bean for a second. At least this one was dead and wasn’t pooping in my coffee.

The girls at work are fastidious about their food and even the utensils from which they eat. At any given time there is a cup on the counter filled with hot water and a fork…because they SANITIZE their utensils before eating their food. Which makes NO sense to me. They do this because PEOPLE have touched those utensils before they make it to their own hands. GASP! Never mind that the person making their toast, A PERSON, is getting his hands all over the bread. They don’t dunk their bread in hot water before eating it. My favorite thing to say when I walk by one of these cups of hot water is, “You know, fish PEE in water.”

These girls are insane about it. All of them. They are really out of their minds. They won’t eat strawberries if Jimmy was the prep guy because Jimmy smokes while he is prepping (I know, NOT a good thing, but god, there are worse things)…and Jimmy is kind of rough, you know, his hair is always sticking up and greasy and he has no teeth…but he’s a good guy. He’s not going to do anything gross to the food. And really, I would rather know who is near the food I am going to eat. That food has traveled through many hands. I mean, you don’t know who picked that fruit, who loaded that fruit, who packed that fruit, who shipped that fruit. I’m sure along the way, whether or not Jimmy was the one who ultimately prepped that fruit, something disgusting has happened to that food.

The only thing I won’t ever touch at our restaurant is the oatmeal…and that is because when I first started working there (and this was a long time ago before, right when my boss bought the place and was still weeding out the employees) I swear to god I saw one of the cooks (he is no longer there and hasn’t been there in a long time) spit in the pan of oatmeal. So I’ve had this total fear of restaurant oatmeal since that day. But my fear is justified because while I don’t care about germs or dirt…I am totally freaked out by spit. I am so freaked out by spit that my old best friend used to chase me around the house with a puddle of spit in her palm whenever she got mad at me and this would make me scream bloody murder and finally cower away in tears until she washed her hand.

Anyway…I drank milk this morning that I probably shouldn’t have. And I survived.

Today at work I was jiffed out on B-complex (sometimes it makes me REALLY hyper) and I was trying to climb over the counter by the cash register and Donna says, “what is she doing?” and my boss says, “she just wants to mount something,” and I said, “yeah, anything will do,” and then he put his Pepsi bottle on the counter and said, “have at it.” He’s such a dirtbag. Later he brought that Pepsi bottle in the back and was in the process of smearing tuna salad all over it (for the stink, you know) and I walked back there and he put his hand over it to cover it up so I couldn’t see what he was doing and I grabbed the thing and knocked it away from him and sprayed everyone with goopy white stuff…and it was hilarious and we all smelled like tuna for the rest of the day. Which was disgusting.

Earlier today I painted my living room floor. I am still waiting for carpet and in the meantime I couldn’t stand this puke brown green color the floor was, plus I was suspecting that it was lead paint because it is very old, so I painted over it. Anyway, I painted the last portion of the room today, I was playing a CD. The DVD player is in the living room. So I painted myself out of the room and then the CD ended and I was like, “shit, I forgot to turn the DVD player off.” But the next CD was also music and so it was okay…but now…NOW…that DVD player is on one of my Seinfeld DVD’S and for the last half an hour I have had to listen to Seinfeld intro song over and over and over again. And I can’t go in the room yet because the paint is still wet. I am devising a way to somehow get in there without walking on the floor. I am going to try to somehow cling onto the wall and use the baseboards to walk around the room.

I am going to try this now.


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