004 :: no. more. meat. on sticks.
Out of both of my places of employment, rather than the lovely, loungey bookstore with the comfy chairs and hours worth of guaranteed in-store entertainment, the Powers that Be decided to teleport me here. To the kabob stand.
The tiny.
Cramped.
Meat-laden.
Oil-coated.
Cumin-overdosed.
Kabob stand.
I'd say thank goodness for small mercies that I'm not a guy stuck flipping burgers in nothing less than my skivs, but that would mean I'm able to find a small comfort somewhere in my current situation. Which I don't.
As if I didn't already have a sortid love/hate relationship with meat on sticks. This is merely tipping the balance straight into hate territory.
The tiny.
Cramped.
Meat-laden.
Oil-coated.
Cumin-overdosed.
Kabob stand.
I'd say thank goodness for small mercies that I'm not a guy stuck flipping burgers in nothing less than my skivs, but that would mean I'm able to find a small comfort somewhere in my current situation. Which I don't.
As if I didn't already have a sortid love/hate relationship with meat on sticks. This is merely tipping the balance straight into hate territory.