Ahh, the remodeling of my store is pressing down on me like an impending storm, threatening to devour my soul. Pat said I can start when I want. This is going to SUCK!
I'm not getting any uprooting or anything. It's weird--I'm just rearranging my whole section as per instructions drawn up by Pat, Robert, and who-the-hell-ever-else. WHY did they decide that the whole section needs to be picked up and put down again in a different order? Why cause me this annoyance?
Furthermore, because of the impending remodel, I told myself I would try to get all my shipment out today, so I could start my tasks Monday and have three days to work on it. Imagine my surprise when I got to work and there was a note on the dry-erase board from Pat, saying curtly that I needed to run Kids' shipment and "get it done today." Like I wouldn't try or something. I guess she's used to me taking my time. Boo.
I got really annoyed at being told to do something I'd been planning to do anyway, but even more annoying was the fact that she also scheduled me to go to the register and stand there for an hour while the cashier did the café girl's break and then took her own. Yes, it makes a lot of sense to insist I go at superhuman speed and then book me for an hour of breaks, plus my own. But then again, what choice did she have? There wasn't anyone else to do the breaks. Sucks. In any case I didn't much appreciate the sort of lecturey "tone" in that little memo. "Get it done today," indeed.
(I didn't, by the way. I wonder if she'll be mad? Or if she'll even notice?)
Last night Mike came over and we made some mediocre cheese biscuits. They'd have been better without the thyme. And according to Mike, they'd have been better without the cheese and with powdered sugar as a topping instead, making them a confection. He liked my buttercup cake with the caramel icing so much that he's decreed it should be made again for his birthday. Yaay! Success!
We watched two episodes of an (apparently) Irish series called Father Ted. I was amused by it. One lady was complaining about the filthy language in a novel, and just kept being very specific about all the terms that offended her. "Feck this, feck that . . . ya big bastard, ya big hairy ARSE, ya big FECKER. And, of course, the F-word, Father. The BAD F-word, worse than feck. You know the one I mean. F you, F your F'in' wife. I'll stick this F'in pitchfork up your hole, oh that was another one. BASTARD this and BASTARD that, it's wall to wall bastards. You bastard, you fecker, you bollocks--get your bollocks out of my face!" All this time the priest is trying to sort of shut her up, and as she's ushered out of the room she calls back "Ride me sideways was another one!" HAHAHA!
After that we played DDR, and I put it on Nonstop Mode and let it throw at me whatever it wanted. I ended up failing the twelfth song in a row--was amazed I got that far because they threw in this one called "Frozen Ray" that's a level nine on the difficulty that it threw at me--I took a look at it and announced to Mike beforehand, "I'm dead!" but I passed. I had never passed that one before, and it's only the second time I've ever passed a level nine. Whee!
Gonna go have tomato soup now.
NUNS! REVERSE, REVERSE, REVERSE, REVERSE!
Great oogli wooglies. Today I answered a question for history class, by saying, "DDR" when I actually meant "Industrial Revolution". I think it was the revolution part that messed me up. Tomato soup is yummy! [katqueen]
HA! Hahahahahahaha!!!! [Meggie]