day before thanksgiving
I must’ve said “Have a very Happy Thanksgiving!” about 200 times today, and I sincerely hope that all of those 200 are happy indeed.
Bert had leg surgery yesterday in Merced, and drove back down to Santa Barbara today. We’ll see if he makes it back to work soon.
Encounters:
Mike asked me what I’d do if someone just gave me $1000. I said that I’d fix my car ( I think the break pads need some work) and pay off college loans. He then mentioned that he may be able to help out with the break pads.
In the Elevator, Ken and I were on our way downstairs when two guest got on the elevator. We were all going down, but when the old, white lady asked us “are you going down.” Ken (who is black) then said in his most black American voice: “Nope, I’m going to the top!” “Oh?” said the old white lady. “Yep, I’m a gunna climb that corporate laddah allll the way to the top, and be the big chicken-eating executive!”. We all had a good laugh.
The only unusual thing about today was that I had to remove a rat from the museum premises. Molly (one of the admissions clerks) had left to get her bike when she found a rat. She came back for some help. I called back to the control room and told Ken (a black security supervisor wearing suspenders) about it. He told me to get some flower and oil to fry it up. For a few minutes in the museum, the radios were abuzz in regards to the poor little marmot that had collapsed near the entrance of the loading dock. While waiting for Ken, I started to tell Molly a story about my fictitious life as an Italian landowner. Before I could finish, Ken came ambling down the hall with a wastebasket and a broom. I told him that I wouldn’t mind taking care of the rat (I wanted to see that no harm came to it) so he snapped his suspenders and handed me the broom and dustpan. Molly followed me out, but stopped about 20 feet short of the rat. I hoped it was dead, for I didn’t want to deal with maneuvering road-half-kill. I poked it with the broom, and to my dismay, it twitched its ears and shifted it’s weight in protest to my advancements. After a little wristwork, I managed to get the rat into the dustpan, and then I walked it over to a large clump of ivy where it could die (or hopefully recover) in privacy. I gave ken back the janitorial equipment, and left work.
I was to meet up with Molly at Barns and Nobel bookstore after work, and that I did. We bumbed around in there for a while, she quizzed me on nursery rhymes (old mother hubbard, the men in a tub and so on)
Keep away from the whisky! I got so drunk last Monday night that I passed out on a freezing cold and wet lawn. When I asked how long I was out there, I was told “three hours”. I was so potted that I couldn’t even move. While outside, Whemblers threw a couple blankets over me, and put a big stocking cap on my head. I remember she kept saying “do you need to get your stomach pumped!?” That’s the last time that I’ll drink whisky in that volume. And that’s the last time I’ll ever be that drunk again, let me tell ya.
Called my cousin Joe tonight. He's currently living in a home. Feel bad for the guy.
Bert had leg surgery yesterday in Merced, and drove back down to Santa Barbara today. We’ll see if he makes it back to work soon.
Encounters:
Mike asked me what I’d do if someone just gave me $1000. I said that I’d fix my car ( I think the break pads need some work) and pay off college loans. He then mentioned that he may be able to help out with the break pads.
In the Elevator, Ken and I were on our way downstairs when two guest got on the elevator. We were all going down, but when the old, white lady asked us “are you going down.” Ken (who is black) then said in his most black American voice: “Nope, I’m going to the top!” “Oh?” said the old white lady. “Yep, I’m a gunna climb that corporate laddah allll the way to the top, and be the big chicken-eating executive!”. We all had a good laugh.
The only unusual thing about today was that I had to remove a rat from the museum premises. Molly (one of the admissions clerks) had left to get her bike when she found a rat. She came back for some help. I called back to the control room and told Ken (a black security supervisor wearing suspenders) about it. He told me to get some flower and oil to fry it up. For a few minutes in the museum, the radios were abuzz in regards to the poor little marmot that had collapsed near the entrance of the loading dock. While waiting for Ken, I started to tell Molly a story about my fictitious life as an Italian landowner. Before I could finish, Ken came ambling down the hall with a wastebasket and a broom. I told him that I wouldn’t mind taking care of the rat (I wanted to see that no harm came to it) so he snapped his suspenders and handed me the broom and dustpan. Molly followed me out, but stopped about 20 feet short of the rat. I hoped it was dead, for I didn’t want to deal with maneuvering road-half-kill. I poked it with the broom, and to my dismay, it twitched its ears and shifted it’s weight in protest to my advancements. After a little wristwork, I managed to get the rat into the dustpan, and then I walked it over to a large clump of ivy where it could die (or hopefully recover) in privacy. I gave ken back the janitorial equipment, and left work.
I was to meet up with Molly at Barns and Nobel bookstore after work, and that I did. We bumbed around in there for a while, she quizzed me on nursery rhymes (old mother hubbard, the men in a tub and so on)
Keep away from the whisky! I got so drunk last Monday night that I passed out on a freezing cold and wet lawn. When I asked how long I was out there, I was told “three hours”. I was so potted that I couldn’t even move. While outside, Whemblers threw a couple blankets over me, and put a big stocking cap on my head. I remember she kept saying “do you need to get your stomach pumped!?” That’s the last time that I’ll drink whisky in that volume. And that’s the last time I’ll ever be that drunk again, let me tell ya.
Called my cousin Joe tonight. He's currently living in a home. Feel bad for the guy.