(no subject)
I just finished day two of my internship, and I'm hoping that this finishes real quick-like. Instead of front desk work and some basic lab work, I've been shunted to heavy animal lifter, item-off-tall-shelf-grabber, lab work that I'm technically not qualified to do, and in some instances, chew toy. It's the little dogs that hurt the most, I've found, and my arm looks like I ran it along a barb-wire fence. People, if your pet has a tendency to bite, please muzzle them when you take them to the vet. It's not adorable, it hurts, and we will say derisive things about you and your pet when you bring them in. My arm will be fine, but there's going to be some scarring when it finishes.
To top that off, I found myself in a situation I didn't want to be on Friday night. McGregor took me to his regular bar because I "shouldn't be readin' books in foreign languages and studyin' [my] brain off" on Fridays. I had two, and that was it, but another one of the regulars had a bet with his friends that he could knock me out with one punch. Two or three didn't do the job, so I picked him up and forcibly set him outside the bar. His friends didn't care for that too much, but thankfully there was not a lot of damage to the place, the cops weren't called, and McGregor and I walked out in one piece. Needless to say, they're not welcome there any more, and I've found my favorite bar.
In better, non-violent news, I helped McGregor clean out his basement, and I found out that McGregor and I have something in common: we both make hard cider. He's got all of the pieces we'd need for a small production, once we clean all of it. We'd both certainly appreciate it if I could be pointed towards the direction of some wild apple trees, since McGregor swears the ones they have at the store don't create a good taste. There's a few apple trees on our land, but I'll trade some of the finished product for knowledge of other trees in the area.
To top that off, I found myself in a situation I didn't want to be on Friday night. McGregor took me to his regular bar because I "shouldn't be readin' books in foreign languages and studyin' [my] brain off" on Fridays. I had two, and that was it, but another one of the regulars had a bet with his friends that he could knock me out with one punch. Two or three didn't do the job, so I picked him up and forcibly set him outside the bar. His friends didn't care for that too much, but thankfully there was not a lot of damage to the place, the cops weren't called, and McGregor and I walked out in one piece. Needless to say, they're not welcome there any more, and I've found my favorite bar.
In better, non-violent news, I helped McGregor clean out his basement, and I found out that McGregor and I have something in common: we both make hard cider. He's got all of the pieces we'd need for a small production, once we clean all of it. We'd both certainly appreciate it if I could be pointed towards the direction of some wild apple trees, since McGregor swears the ones they have at the store don't create a good taste. There's a few apple trees on our land, but I'll trade some of the finished product for knowledge of other trees in the area.