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My feet hurt. Work was looooong today. Courtnee called and said she would be an hour late for work because she couldn't quit puking. Huh, I never realized you could predetermine when you would actually stop puking. I wish I had that amazing ability. I'm gonna be late, I'll stop puking at 12:45. All I said to her today was "courtnee, you are so fucking un-reliable." And then she ate a big fat sandwich. I mean, what the fuck, the last thing I want to do after puking all day is eat a big fat sandwich. I'm so sick of her bullshit. The girl I was working with and I made 50 sandwiches in an hour, that doesnt sound like much, but it is fucking helacious for two people. Thats almost a sandwich a minute, from start to register, and we had to put new gloves on each time we rang someone up, which is a pain in the asshole because your hands get real fuckin' sweaty. And we had to run back and forth to the cooler because we kept running out of everything. Productivity must've been 9.8 or some shit, which is also helaciously great. That was the hour that courtnee missed because she was puking. I took my puppy on a walk yesterday and the little neighbor girl came with me, riding her purple bike. We talked about thunderstorms and mean dogs and dead trees and dirty bikes. We tried to walk the trail in the woods but it was muddy and flooded, like a big fat marsh. Fuck marshes and fuck squirrels.
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lucky
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