Carpe Deez Nutz
I'm going to start this one by rambling. It's a good way to start a though process.
I've a whole bottle of wine to myself. That's what I meant, Laura, when I said "brb, I need a drink."
So my teeth are feeling better. They seem less angry about losing four of their brothers today. I can chew most foods, but the swelling of the inside of my cheeks still prevents my mouth from opening too wide and food gets caught between the cheek and the gum. The oral surgeon will have fun cleaning out my holes.
My right ear seems to pop halfway when I'm at work. You know how that is. When you yawn, your eardrums kinda open up and you can hear yourself and everything else too. It's hard to explain, but I'm sure you understand. Anyway, I have a bad feeling that it's linked to my surgery. I mean, what ISN'T the mouth connected to? I have a checkup later today (it's Tuesday, remember?) and I'll be telling the doc about that. Atleast my headaches went away.
More about work. The chef at Harkers Hollow is French. His name is Francious, pronounced Franswua. He hates everything French, thinks Bush is a fucker, and knows how to cook. The Sous Chef (Wannabe) is Brad. He went to a culinary college and likes to have everything organized. He is easily embarassed and we all remind him of it. The Wannabe Sous Chef is Arto. His name is Justin, but everyone calls him Arto. He's Armenian and knows how to cook and fuck around with peoples head. He's loud, an alcoholic, abrasive, but he respects a person who knows their shit. He'll admit that after he balltaps you.
I would include Larry in this, but I don't work with him enough to feel obligated to describe him.
I just had a text-chat with Connie. It was a pleasant reminder.
I find that starting new paragraphs attracts attention, and thusly, drawing the reader in. Dance, puppets!
Things have been the same with my parents. The divorce has been in the making for nearly a year now, and that makes it worse. Once it happens, things will be a lot easier to deal with. It's hard to console your parents as they cry on your should once a week, complaining about the other.
Remember a time in your life when you thought your parents were all powerful? Like they could do no wrong? Now, can you remember the first time in your life when you saw your parents breakdown? What was that like?
I feel as though that moment keeps happening to me over and over and over.
I have a comfortable reliance on alcohol to keep me warm at times like this. It seems to do more that a cry or a hug. It's just me and my kitty right now and my kitty is sleepy. It's 2:23...I should sleep too.
Ok, half and hour just passed. I'm going to bed
I've a whole bottle of wine to myself. That's what I meant, Laura, when I said "brb, I need a drink."
So my teeth are feeling better. They seem less angry about losing four of their brothers today. I can chew most foods, but the swelling of the inside of my cheeks still prevents my mouth from opening too wide and food gets caught between the cheek and the gum. The oral surgeon will have fun cleaning out my holes.
My right ear seems to pop halfway when I'm at work. You know how that is. When you yawn, your eardrums kinda open up and you can hear yourself and everything else too. It's hard to explain, but I'm sure you understand. Anyway, I have a bad feeling that it's linked to my surgery. I mean, what ISN'T the mouth connected to? I have a checkup later today (it's Tuesday, remember?) and I'll be telling the doc about that. Atleast my headaches went away.
More about work. The chef at Harkers Hollow is French. His name is Francious, pronounced Franswua. He hates everything French, thinks Bush is a fucker, and knows how to cook. The Sous Chef (Wannabe) is Brad. He went to a culinary college and likes to have everything organized. He is easily embarassed and we all remind him of it. The Wannabe Sous Chef is Arto. His name is Justin, but everyone calls him Arto. He's Armenian and knows how to cook and fuck around with peoples head. He's loud, an alcoholic, abrasive, but he respects a person who knows their shit. He'll admit that after he balltaps you.
I would include Larry in this, but I don't work with him enough to feel obligated to describe him.
I just had a text-chat with Connie. It was a pleasant reminder.
I find that starting new paragraphs attracts attention, and thusly, drawing the reader in. Dance, puppets!
Things have been the same with my parents. The divorce has been in the making for nearly a year now, and that makes it worse. Once it happens, things will be a lot easier to deal with. It's hard to console your parents as they cry on your should once a week, complaining about the other.
Remember a time in your life when you thought your parents were all powerful? Like they could do no wrong? Now, can you remember the first time in your life when you saw your parents breakdown? What was that like?
I feel as though that moment keeps happening to me over and over and over.
I have a comfortable reliance on alcohol to keep me warm at times like this. It seems to do more that a cry or a hug. It's just me and my kitty right now and my kitty is sleepy. It's 2:23...I should sleep too.
Ok, half and hour just passed. I'm going to bed