Mmm, hairy pussy.

So sweaty. So, so sweaty. Man, I’m glad summer’s behind us and not ahead of us. Staying warm is a lot easier than standing in front of hot food. When I came home, I pooped, and promptly took a nice cold shower. That felt soooo nice.

Trisha and I were the only two register type people for lunch. Meant we were both kind of everywhere. I usually check the sodas when I come in, in the morning. Man, through the day, I think I changed most of them. I can never screw those fuckers on right. At some point, I went back to change the root beer, and Trisha was sitting back there to get away from the heat. We noticed, “Wait, this doesn’t look quite right.” Ha ha. “Hey, want to go back and change the root beer?“

Ah, running gags.

Kid spilled his drink all over his table and the floor. Keith’s retarded, so he couldn’t quite clean it right. The kids (and Keith) were dabbing it with napkins. I told Keith to use a mop bucket. I even gave him one. Unfortunately, Keith’s retarded. No, he is. He is mentally deficient, and seems to lack self-awareness of how completely uncool he is. Everybody finds him annoying and sometimes creepy. Trisha, headset still on, went out, and quickly mopped it up herself. Ha ha.

Trisha’s cool, I might do her if I was in the business of actually “doing people”, but she has three knocks against her. One, she smokes. I’d never date someone who smoked. Two, she eats nothing but crap. The only reason she doesn’t look like crap is because she can’t even finish a nacho supreme. Three, while the way she complains about customers is intensely amusing at times, it reminds me of Liz. Liz complains to Cliff far more than me, but I still get annoyed at her lame stories. LAME.

Ha ha, good thing Liz is not internet-enabled. Hi, Erik. Score any cock lately?

I ate too much today. Oh god, I have no idea why I thought that was a good idea. Three gorditas, and a gordita crunch. The steak one was kind of meh. Chicken was okay, but I’d never eat it. Kind of sad how I like the taste of taco bell beef. Whatever. The gordita crunch was really underwhelming. Something about it didn’t sit right with me, I won’t have it again.

I need to find a way to cook some chicken at home, and freeze/refrigerate it until I need it. Just something simple, but not how I’ve been doing it. I’m sure I can figure it out. Sandwiches will get old fast.

GM finally got the schedule for September ready. Or, has scratched in my hours. I have a class at 11:30 that ends at 12:45. She asked if I could work 2 – 7. That’ll be just right – I’ll probably just go without a break. She also made it clear that if I wanted less or more hours, to just tell her.

Trisha described the taquitos as “ten inches long” and cut in half. Yes. I giggled. Come on, wouldn’t you? She said, “Oh yeah, just like you.” To which we discussed the impracticality of actually having something that long. It’s too much! My mind is full of lewd thoughts, I keep a lot of them to myself unless I know the company I’m in. I also seem to really enjoy making other people uncomfortable.

Speaking of which, while we were learning line for the last hour, I have no idea how the topic of hairy pussy came up. Normally I’d say something about how I enjoy the aesthetic visual of it, the lack of stubble, and how you can tickle it. (Among other things. It’s not like I want SHEJUNGLE, I just like what’s normally there. Same goes for girlpits.) I dumbed that down to, “I want a woman, not a little girl.”

Something lewd that I didn’t vocalize: The middle person on line is called a “stuffer”. Which made me want to say, “Anything you want me to stuff?” I swear, when I get tired, I get loopy.

Erica: “What do you think I am, an air conditioner?”
Me: “I don’t know, you’re pretty cold.”

I didn’t think that was particularly witty or my best material, but apparently everybody else thought it was a good zing.

I just ate a bowl of all-bran. That’ll fix my intestines. I need to go purchase groceries, I have no more yogurt for breakfast. So much for not talking about Taco Bell. Oh well, deal with it.