Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Sunday, May 14, 2006
This Time Tomorrow, I'll Be Airport Bound
Had weirdest dream ever last night. I think it may be inspiration for a story. But if it is, it'll be a challenge. Not sure I have it in me to write it at this point in my life. I'm not going to tell you what it's about, but the story would have to be funny, weird and deal with some serious issues that I've never experienced.
Worked last night. It was the last time before my trip. It was so nice looking at the work schedule and seeing a line of "V"s all the way across. Mmmm, V is for vacation. I worked on the bookside, which was fine, except for the fact that customers had done "disrespectful" things to the bathrooms one time too many and yesterday was the beginning of a new program of keeping the bathroom doors locked. A bookseller needed to let the customers in. Which meant a lot of my night was spent escorting people to the bathroom. Fun. Fun.
There was also an only-mildly-creepy guy who kept trying to talk to me. I think he (in similar fashion to my old stalker) was planning on trying to meet me at work over the next several days. I didn't mention I was leaving the country for two weeks. Hopefully that'll be enough time for him to forget me.
I'm getting more excited for the trip. Packing has forced me to realize I'm actually going soon. Plus, I looked at the itinerary. I get to have early morning yoga and meditation sessions. How hot is that? And there will be an elephant ride! Elephant ride! Hee hee. What more could I want in life? Oh, I know. A sari! And I'm so buying one. I don't care that I'll never wear it after the trip.
I tried to pack light. Really I did. But for some unknown reason, the suitcase is still almost full. I'm blaming the first aid kit and giant pack of toilet paper rolls. But I don't think that would cause my bag to be as heavy as it is. Is someone hiding in there? Bah.
Off to drink coffee (which apparently is not in wide supply in India--How will I survive!!!!!!???????) and do some of the assigned reading.
Worked last night. It was the last time before my trip. It was so nice looking at the work schedule and seeing a line of "V"s all the way across. Mmmm, V is for vacation. I worked on the bookside, which was fine, except for the fact that customers had done "disrespectful" things to the bathrooms one time too many and yesterday was the beginning of a new program of keeping the bathroom doors locked. A bookseller needed to let the customers in. Which meant a lot of my night was spent escorting people to the bathroom. Fun. Fun.
There was also an only-mildly-creepy guy who kept trying to talk to me. I think he (in similar fashion to my old stalker) was planning on trying to meet me at work over the next several days. I didn't mention I was leaving the country for two weeks. Hopefully that'll be enough time for him to forget me.
I'm getting more excited for the trip. Packing has forced me to realize I'm actually going soon. Plus, I looked at the itinerary. I get to have early morning yoga and meditation sessions. How hot is that? And there will be an elephant ride! Elephant ride! Hee hee. What more could I want in life? Oh, I know. A sari! And I'm so buying one. I don't care that I'll never wear it after the trip.
I tried to pack light. Really I did. But for some unknown reason, the suitcase is still almost full. I'm blaming the first aid kit and giant pack of toilet paper rolls. But I don't think that would cause my bag to be as heavy as it is. Is someone hiding in there? Bah.
Off to drink coffee (which apparently is not in wide supply in India--How will I survive!!!!!!???????) and do some of the assigned reading.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The War of the Whipped
The truce between Danny and I ended this night at 7 PM. Like the beginning of most of the great wars, it's a tad bit confusing how it started.
Okay, so not that confusing. Cute manager (Kirk) sprayed my arm with whipped cream and then moved out of range. Angry and unable to retaliate, I struck out at the nearest bystander: Danny. And the war began. Again.
This war included two casualties: Two green B&N aprons will never be the same...at least not until they're washed.
My black pants were wounded, but I still plan to wear them the next time I work.
Danny carrying me into the storage room.
The landscape was transformed from a clean storage room into something akin to a nuclear winter, except more creamy.
Half the store heard me scream like the girlie-girl that I am.
The climax of the war came when I had my last break. Accounts are still varied, but it may or may not have featured a certain crazy person, clutching a can of whipped cream, screaming, "Hold still! I only want to get your arm!" chasing cute manager around the store until he ran into the men's room; territory I--I mean, the crazy person--was unwilling to invade.
No peace treaties were signed. Instead I have made a promise to seek revenge. After all, vengeance is a dish best served cold with whipped cream on top.
On the plus side, I'm guessing few people can say they've chased their boss in front of dozens of witnesses threatening to spray whipped cream during work. A game of 10 fingers, anyone?
Okay, so not that confusing. Cute manager (Kirk) sprayed my arm with whipped cream and then moved out of range. Angry and unable to retaliate, I struck out at the nearest bystander: Danny. And the war began. Again.
This war included two casualties: Two green B&N aprons will never be the same...at least not until they're washed.
My black pants were wounded, but I still plan to wear them the next time I work.
Danny carrying me into the storage room.
The landscape was transformed from a clean storage room into something akin to a nuclear winter, except more creamy.
Half the store heard me scream like the girlie-girl that I am.
The climax of the war came when I had my last break. Accounts are still varied, but it may or may not have featured a certain crazy person, clutching a can of whipped cream, screaming, "Hold still! I only want to get your arm!" chasing cute manager around the store until he ran into the men's room; territory I--I mean, the crazy person--was unwilling to invade.
No peace treaties were signed. Instead I have made a promise to seek revenge. After all, vengeance is a dish best served cold with whipped cream on top.
On the plus side, I'm guessing few people can say they've chased their boss in front of dozens of witnesses threatening to spray whipped cream during work. A game of 10 fingers, anyone?
