(no subject)
Feb. 17th, 2006 12:51 amI bet this helps.
Uncle's an idiot, you know it, kids?
The problem with his keyboard? Something had tapped the NUM Lock key. And then, Uncle tapped his own personal NUM Nuts key, and didn't notice, and started cursing and freaking out--because he didn't bring the notebook, thinking the Notebook Computer would be much faster to write in.
So there was this lady about a half an hour ago who stood at the counter for seventy thousand years, just standing, not saying anything--or, if she did, it damn sure wasn't loud enough to be heard over Slipknot, heh heh--and so I go by the open doorway to do something or other, and there she is, and she does this gesture with her shoulders like, "Hello...? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
So I go outside (it was the croissants! I was putting the remaining croissants back in teh freezer!). And she is all like, "I've been standing out here for two minutes already."
Internally, I say: "Yeah, but who gives a fuck? Certainly not me."
Externally, I say, "Yeah," in a tone that says I am both pretending she hasn't commented, and waiting to see if she intends to comment further, or could we just get her tedious-ass order out of the way so I can go back to being someone who doesn't care about her?
So she keeps making these dissatisfied noises, and I'm just doing the order, "oblivious". It gave eher nothing to work with, se she left, grunting.
I would have liked to have told her that I couldn't give a fuck less about her and how long she had to wait, but I'm trying to keep the job for a weebit longer, you know?
Well, fuck. Ain't this typical. Now that I have a fucking minute, the damn donuts are here.
I knew I should have etried harder to gete some writing done at the house.
Well, kids...
till then.
Uncle's an idiot, you know it, kids?
The problem with his keyboard? Something had tapped the NUM Lock key. And then, Uncle tapped his own personal NUM Nuts key, and didn't notice, and started cursing and freaking out--because he didn't bring the notebook, thinking the Notebook Computer would be much faster to write in.
So there was this lady about a half an hour ago who stood at the counter for seventy thousand years, just standing, not saying anything--or, if she did, it damn sure wasn't loud enough to be heard over Slipknot, heh heh--and so I go by the open doorway to do something or other, and there she is, and she does this gesture with her shoulders like, "Hello...? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
So I go outside (it was the croissants! I was putting the remaining croissants back in teh freezer!). And she is all like, "I've been standing out here for two minutes already."
Internally, I say: "Yeah, but who gives a fuck? Certainly not me."
Externally, I say, "Yeah," in a tone that says I am both pretending she hasn't commented, and waiting to see if she intends to comment further, or could we just get her tedious-ass order out of the way so I can go back to being someone who doesn't care about her?
So she keeps making these dissatisfied noises, and I'm just doing the order, "oblivious". It gave eher nothing to work with, se she left, grunting.
I would have liked to have told her that I couldn't give a fuck less about her and how long she had to wait, but I'm trying to keep the job for a weebit longer, you know?
Well, fuck. Ain't this typical. Now that I have a fucking minute, the damn donuts are here.
I knew I should have etried harder to gete some writing done at the house.
Well, kids...
till then.