ASKDGFHFH
WORKWORKWORKWORKARGGGGG
Psy-ko.
Naw. But Elman's in the fucking hospital. In Sturgeon Bay.
Apparently, he was saying he was feeling shitty this morning, but Steve had to go to work, and was all "Elman, here's the phone, I have to go, but if it gets any worse, CALL 911."
He has a weak heart and it sounds like he had a heart attack or something. Details unknown. Someone called the resteraunt at about 9 tonight and 10 minutes later the entire staff knows that Elman is In the Hospital, he Is Not Dying, but it is Serious. Then our cooks left to go see him or something.
Maria didn't work today, I guess her finger was EW BLOODY or something. Stitches. Ew. So I worked alone, and today was suck, and I was off my game, and there were two whole runners but I couldn't get the idea through my brain that they were supposed to do my shit work and I was supposed to be Customer Service, Yes Ma'am, we do have salt and pepper, I'll be right back with that!
Nico was there, too. Cute kid. Annoying. Too witty for his own good. It was slow, so he and Steve went and peeled kale in the prep sinks all afternoon. Every so often they'd rib me, and I'd be outraged, blah blah, good times. I started calling Nico Chicago Kid and he started trying to annoy me about how old Steve is-
"He's twenty-three."
"...What about it?"
"SEVENTEEN."
"..."
*snickersnicker*
"...Shut up."
He kept doing that. A lot. TOO CHEEKY FOR HIS OWN GOOD as I wave my cane around in a fury-
Oh. And I ruthlessly kidnapped Dora's table, a middle-agery man in blue, and we talked. And talked and talked and talked. About everything. Then he called me attractive, said I wouldn't have a problem with men (SOMEONE OTHER THAN MY FRIENDS AND I THINK SO) and asked to take my picture, since a photo speaks a thousand words, he's a packrat, blah blah blah. SO, naturally, I pulled the shy pose, fingered my necklace charm, and flashed a smile. Tee-freakin'-hee.
But it was nice. He said I was wise before he left, and wished me luck. Years from now he may still have that photo- he'll have a first name to go with it, but not much else. He knows my life story, greatly paraphrased and edited, my ambitions, some of my thoughts, and my name. I wonder if he'll remember me? Or if he'll find the photo and be all, what the shit.
So. Then Steve went on break, since he was a TIRED PUPPY, and went to sleep in the laundry building. I be back at five, he says. Okay, we says.
I did some dishes, tottled around an iddle, did some laundry, and made sure to close the connecting door to the apartment so he could snoozy in peace. Then Anna and Max came, so I got dressed, called the padres, and LEFT. Almost. By then, it was five, so I wandered out to find Steve.
Steee-eeeve, crooned I, and tiptoed ever-so-softly into the bedroom-sort-of-thing.
AND OHO THERE WAS AN ARM
AND JUST AN ARM
FLUNG ACROSS THE BED.
The rest of him was buried.
You know, usually, it's not my hobby to go waking up people, especially mostly-naked people, especially especially when these people are quite happily buried, there is nothing but an arm visible, and one cannot judge the entirety of their nakedness.
But there was no alarm.
And we had People Coming.
So, jeez, said I, what the shiiiit, this is cute, but it feels suspiciously like going into the lion's den or something-
But lo, I was over there, ruffling his hair and nudging his arm before my maidenly sensibilities could say, STEP AWAY FROM THE FUZZY NAKED MAN AND HIS BLANKET.
"Steeeeve."
*ruffle ruffle nudge*
"Nrgle?"
"It's five."
"No no, five-thirty."
"Oh. Kay."
"And tell the kitchennnn, five-thirty."
"Mmkay."
During this dialogue, he was doing his absolute best to BURROW BURROW BURROW deeper into the bed. A good strategy, I think.
The amusing bit is, I wandered into the room, and I could see the arm. Alright. Fine. I can deal with that.
Then I got closer, and I could see some rather happy muscly bare-shoulder-and-head-of-fluffy-curly-hair.
Well, eep, that means he hasn't got a shirt. Um. Eep.
Then I saw his face, and he was absolutely conked, and it was AWWW SO CUTE but you're almost certaintly pantsless and I have to wake you up. Hmm.
Then there was the ruffly bit, so on and so forth. After that, I did more laundry and folded some napkins whilst waiting for my escort, all the while thinking, aw, he is ashleep right over there and generally feeling caring and fuzzy.
FREAKY FREAK.
I finished the napkins, put them away, and by then it was time to wake up Steve. HOWEVER, the Car was there, so I went for the Car, but at the last minute decided no, nobody else knows he's sleeping, I'd may as well. SO, I ran back into the laundry building with every intention of Waking His Ass.
"Steve!"
"Ng?"
"Five-thirty."
Cue a string of cuss words, muffled, of which all I heard was "-fucking shit mumble mumble."
Then he rolled over and made like he was gonna haul some ass. Uh-oh, my brain said, you know, there seems to be a good deal of prep over there in order for the Getting Up and Moving Around, and it might be kinda weird to stick around long enough to see him in his undies, again, or lack thereof. So I booked it.
I think I've seen him only partially dressed more than Maria has, and she's his almost-sorta girlfriend. That's kinda creepy.
Then I went home, ate dinner, and went back. Jordan was there, whom I hadn't seen in days, so that was HEY IT'S YOU YAY!
Cue the Elman news, much work-related panic, then more work-related panic after the chefs left and we had more orders. At that point, I got a phone call from Grandma saying hay, we're gonna come GET you, kthxbai, and I was all WAITNOICAN'T my CO-WORKERS HAVE TO OKAY IT but they did so it was cool.
Max's last day was today and omg, I got a hug. There might be a picture or two on Steve's camera, and I might get one if there's doubles. Who knows.
So I left early.
I take the 10:30 ferry tomorrow morning to the mainland, upon which I am in for two days of relatives-fun and maybe PARASAILING.
I come back on Monday evening, whereupon I have to go to my very own birthday party. I'm almost older. Oh my god.
Cheers.
PS. I got my period right before I left work, and I'm going to stay AT ANOTHER HOUSE AND SHOP ALL DAY AND PARASAIL.
Fuck you, body.
But it's probably good that I didn't get it when I have to cross the country. At least this way it's my sister and Bits, and one poor, lone male stranded in a sea of estrogen. Could be worse.
Psy-ko.
Naw. But Elman's in the fucking hospital. In Sturgeon Bay.
Apparently, he was saying he was feeling shitty this morning, but Steve had to go to work, and was all "Elman, here's the phone, I have to go, but if it gets any worse, CALL 911."
He has a weak heart and it sounds like he had a heart attack or something. Details unknown. Someone called the resteraunt at about 9 tonight and 10 minutes later the entire staff knows that Elman is In the Hospital, he Is Not Dying, but it is Serious. Then our cooks left to go see him or something.
Maria didn't work today, I guess her finger was EW BLOODY or something. Stitches. Ew. So I worked alone, and today was suck, and I was off my game, and there were two whole runners but I couldn't get the idea through my brain that they were supposed to do my shit work and I was supposed to be Customer Service, Yes Ma'am, we do have salt and pepper, I'll be right back with that!
Nico was there, too. Cute kid. Annoying. Too witty for his own good. It was slow, so he and Steve went and peeled kale in the prep sinks all afternoon. Every so often they'd rib me, and I'd be outraged, blah blah, good times. I started calling Nico Chicago Kid and he started trying to annoy me about how old Steve is-
"He's twenty-three."
"...What about it?"
"SEVENTEEN."
"..."
*snickersnicker*
"...Shut up."
He kept doing that. A lot. TOO CHEEKY FOR HIS OWN GOOD as I wave my cane around in a fury-
Oh. And I ruthlessly kidnapped Dora's table, a middle-agery man in blue, and we talked. And talked and talked and talked. About everything. Then he called me attractive, said I wouldn't have a problem with men (SOMEONE OTHER THAN MY FRIENDS AND I THINK SO) and asked to take my picture, since a photo speaks a thousand words, he's a packrat, blah blah blah. SO, naturally, I pulled the shy pose, fingered my necklace charm, and flashed a smile. Tee-freakin'-hee.
But it was nice. He said I was wise before he left, and wished me luck. Years from now he may still have that photo- he'll have a first name to go with it, but not much else. He knows my life story, greatly paraphrased and edited, my ambitions, some of my thoughts, and my name. I wonder if he'll remember me? Or if he'll find the photo and be all, what the shit.
So. Then Steve went on break, since he was a TIRED PUPPY, and went to sleep in the laundry building. I be back at five, he says. Okay, we says.
I did some dishes, tottled around an iddle, did some laundry, and made sure to close the connecting door to the apartment so he could snoozy in peace. Then Anna and Max came, so I got dressed, called the padres, and LEFT. Almost. By then, it was five, so I wandered out to find Steve.
Steee-eeeve, crooned I, and tiptoed ever-so-softly into the bedroom-sort-of-thing.
AND OHO THERE WAS AN ARM
AND JUST AN ARM
FLUNG ACROSS THE BED.
The rest of him was buried.
You know, usually, it's not my hobby to go waking up people, especially mostly-naked people, especially especially when these people are quite happily buried, there is nothing but an arm visible, and one cannot judge the entirety of their nakedness.
But there was no alarm.
And we had People Coming.
So, jeez, said I, what the shiiiit, this is cute, but it feels suspiciously like going into the lion's den or something-
But lo, I was over there, ruffling his hair and nudging his arm before my maidenly sensibilities could say, STEP AWAY FROM THE FUZZY NAKED MAN AND HIS BLANKET.
"Steeeeve."
*ruffle ruffle nudge*
"Nrgle?"
"It's five."
"No no, five-thirty."
"Oh. Kay."
"And tell the kitchennnn, five-thirty."
"Mmkay."
During this dialogue, he was doing his absolute best to BURROW BURROW BURROW deeper into the bed. A good strategy, I think.
The amusing bit is, I wandered into the room, and I could see the arm. Alright. Fine. I can deal with that.
Then I got closer, and I could see some rather happy muscly bare-shoulder-and-head-of-fluffy-curly-hair.
Well, eep, that means he hasn't got a shirt. Um. Eep.
Then I saw his face, and he was absolutely conked, and it was AWWW SO CUTE but you're almost certaintly pantsless and I have to wake you up. Hmm.
Then there was the ruffly bit, so on and so forth. After that, I did more laundry and folded some napkins whilst waiting for my escort, all the while thinking, aw, he is ashleep right over there and generally feeling caring and fuzzy.
FREAKY FREAK.
I finished the napkins, put them away, and by then it was time to wake up Steve. HOWEVER, the Car was there, so I went for the Car, but at the last minute decided no, nobody else knows he's sleeping, I'd may as well. SO, I ran back into the laundry building with every intention of Waking His Ass.
"Steve!"
"Ng?"
"Five-thirty."
Cue a string of cuss words, muffled, of which all I heard was "-fucking shit mumble mumble."
Then he rolled over and made like he was gonna haul some ass. Uh-oh, my brain said, you know, there seems to be a good deal of prep over there in order for the Getting Up and Moving Around, and it might be kinda weird to stick around long enough to see him in his undies, again, or lack thereof. So I booked it.
I think I've seen him only partially dressed more than Maria has, and she's his almost-sorta girlfriend. That's kinda creepy.
Then I went home, ate dinner, and went back. Jordan was there, whom I hadn't seen in days, so that was HEY IT'S YOU YAY!
Cue the Elman news, much work-related panic, then more work-related panic after the chefs left and we had more orders. At that point, I got a phone call from Grandma saying hay, we're gonna come GET you, kthxbai, and I was all WAITNOICAN'T my CO-WORKERS HAVE TO OKAY IT but they did so it was cool.
Max's last day was today and omg, I got a hug. There might be a picture or two on Steve's camera, and I might get one if there's doubles. Who knows.
So I left early.
I take the 10:30 ferry tomorrow morning to the mainland, upon which I am in for two days of relatives-fun and maybe PARASAILING.
I come back on Monday evening, whereupon I have to go to my very own birthday party. I'm almost older. Oh my god.
Cheers.
PS. I got my period right before I left work, and I'm going to stay AT ANOTHER HOUSE AND SHOP ALL DAY AND PARASAIL.
Fuck you, body.
But it's probably good that I didn't get it when I have to cross the country. At least this way it's my sister and Bits, and one poor, lone male stranded in a sea of estrogen. Could be worse.