Alright, its 3 am the day after the quitting, so, like, less than 12 hours have passed and already everyone I work with knows that I have quit. I told 2 people, other than my boss.
REASONS I QUIT MY JOB: (other than the ones you may already know from reading here)
1)We have no need for inter office memos--see above statement.
2)I work in a sociopathic junior high
3)Management at my job is a joke at best
4)My job has been humping me up the butt without the common courtesy of a reach around for 18 months
5)I hate people. No, really.
AFTERMATH 12 HOURS IN FROM QUITTING MY JOB:
1)Everyone has been really, painfully, fakely sweet. Offering apologies for slights they have done, as now they know that any and all of the things they thought and said are incorrect because I QUIT, and therefore have to be more pissed at the current situation than they, and even though they are not the brightest lot, my coworkers, they aren't so dumb as to miss normal, glaring common sense. Most of the time.
2)Others are planning on leaping ship after me.
3)My boss took it like a champ to my face, I'm sure is having a mental breakdown/talking shit by now.
4)I feel immensely better already--physically and emotionally. Part of me is sad, because sometimes work was fun and I really loved the obscene amount of money I made there.
5)I am slightly terrified of having no gainful employment/source of income, regardless of the state of my savings account. Also, I am walking away from my uber late gilded benefits package--they were going to give it to me less than 15 days after my final day of work.
6)I think I am going to go back to school. Just cause, you know.
7)This means I have to go see my mother. "Have to" and "Will so she will finally shut the hell up about it" and "I think she may be dying" are interchangeable. More on that late.
So.....yeah. Wish me luck. Or something.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Death Rattle
I am graced with having inherited the worlds most abused air purifier.
See, my father was a smoker. The man smoked for at least 65 years, and loved every damn minute of it. Towards the end, I was encouraging him to smoke as it was one of the few pleasures he still had in life--as much as I discouraged him STRONGLY from smoking while he was still hooked up to oxygen. (Strangely enough, he was on oxygen NOT from a smoking related problem. He was a dialysis patient, and old, and was experiencing congestive heart problems, fluid on lungs causing diminished capacity and so on. And before you all berate me for encouraging a man with lung capacity problems to smoke, lets all remember that he was over 80 years old and things were looking rather....grim on several fronts. In my opinion, once you reach 80, if you want to have a damn cigarette and a stiff drink at the end of the day, no one should tell you no, least of all your 24 year old child. I think he had earned the right, raising 4 red haired daughters, having two red haired wives and fighting in two wars, and so on.) (And yes, dad smoked with the oxygen hooked up. We often had the "dad, if you want to go out in a literal blaze of glory, could you please do that somewhere other than here, and without your present company? Thanks." talk.)
Anyway, dad smoked. A lot. He didn't care where he was or who he was with--he would have smoked on an elevator filled with newborns if he could. He smoked in the house, in the car, everywhere he legally could. His girlfriend, well, she was a reformed smoker. You all know the type--they have quit, and therefore are now devoted to making your smokers life a living hell--all to extend your life another ten minutes in which to hate them. (I'm not sure if Bill Hicks or Dennis Leary said that first. Or David Sedaris. All smokers, btw.) Anyway, she made dad leap through hoops of discomfort to smoke--and in response, he purchased an air purifier in hopes of literally clearing the air in the house so that she could come visit and he could still merrily puff away.
This poor, poor machine.
I have cleaned the filter on this purifier weekly since I lived here. Anyone who wants to think about quitting should do this job. COVERED in a sticky, resinous, brackish film that stains and stinks. My lungs quiver with excitement just thinking about it.
Anyway, dad was content to never clean it. "Just so long as it gets the stink out!" he would announce as I stared at the exit screen, now stained brown. The first time I cleaned this filter it had not been done for god knows how long. I quit smoking for six months afterwards.
Anyway, when dad went on oxygen, I demanded that no one smoke in the house for any reason due to the risk of, oh, explosion. Dad listened long enough for me to stop talking. Everyone else went outside. I stopped using the air purifier as 1)I didn't think we would need it and 2)It began throwing off sparks.
That's right, sparks. It would crackle and bang and emit high pitched screeches, then a small shower of fireworks. Again, not conducive to an O2 rich environment, so I unplugged it and cut my losses.
Since dad has passed on, we still smoke outside. I have since washed the film of nicotine off most surfaces in the house, cleaned the carpets and drapes, and covered everything with a layer of Febreeze and laundry.
I thought last week, as I was becoming sick, of reviving the air purifier. With a good, thorough douching and a now better work environment, it could cut the allergens down in the house--making T's and my life much easier. That is, if I could revive it.
I douched. I scrubbed. I patiently vacuumed the lint and dust out of the intakes. I held hope in my heart for this hard working machine.
I plugged it in, turned it on....and it worked! Hooray! Pleased with myself, I left it on in the bedroom for a few days.
T and I both experienced dry sinuses and nosebleeds. I shut it off.
Today I decided to turn it on before bed--(notice that I am not sleep blogging.)and was rewarded with a new found problem with the air purifier.
Rhythmic screeching, banging, and a strange thumping. No sparks.
I took it apart, examined the fan, the filter, the intake and blower. Nothing.
I put it back together, and turned it on.
A howl, then nothing. I waited.
I got in bed. Small thump, a series of clicks, then a howl that was like something out of a horror movie. I got up, I turned it off.
THE HOWLING CONTINUED.
I was horrified. I imagined some small animal being trapped inexplicably in the tiny fan at the top, slowly being killed by allergen removal. I unplugged it.
Slowly, the howling ground to a stop.
Again, I took it apart. No animal. Nothing I could see.
Plugged it back in, turned it on. It coughed, sputtered, let out an asthmatic wheeze, and commenced with the howling.
I tore the cord out of the wall, flipped it upside down, opened it up and shook it. Nothing. I slapped the sides. Nothing.
I turned it on again. Howling. I punched it. I punched it again.
A glob of....Something flew out. Nicotine, tar, dust, allergens, the Hope Diamond and lost city of Atlantis, I speculate.
It is now merrily purifying away behind me.
This just goes to show several things:
Punching stuff that is broken works sometimes.
Smoking continually in front of your air purifier is a really bad idea.
Smoking makes things sticky and gross--Lungs, anyone?
A combination of nicotine, tar, dust, allergens, treasure and anthropological speculation does in fact float when hurled into a toilet.
This has been a long winded public service announcement by yours truly. We will now go back to bitching continually about inane bullshit. Thanks for tuning in.
See, my father was a smoker. The man smoked for at least 65 years, and loved every damn minute of it. Towards the end, I was encouraging him to smoke as it was one of the few pleasures he still had in life--as much as I discouraged him STRONGLY from smoking while he was still hooked up to oxygen. (Strangely enough, he was on oxygen NOT from a smoking related problem. He was a dialysis patient, and old, and was experiencing congestive heart problems, fluid on lungs causing diminished capacity and so on. And before you all berate me for encouraging a man with lung capacity problems to smoke, lets all remember that he was over 80 years old and things were looking rather....grim on several fronts. In my opinion, once you reach 80, if you want to have a damn cigarette and a stiff drink at the end of the day, no one should tell you no, least of all your 24 year old child. I think he had earned the right, raising 4 red haired daughters, having two red haired wives and fighting in two wars, and so on.) (And yes, dad smoked with the oxygen hooked up. We often had the "dad, if you want to go out in a literal blaze of glory, could you please do that somewhere other than here, and without your present company? Thanks." talk.)
Anyway, dad smoked. A lot. He didn't care where he was or who he was with--he would have smoked on an elevator filled with newborns if he could. He smoked in the house, in the car, everywhere he legally could. His girlfriend, well, she was a reformed smoker. You all know the type--they have quit, and therefore are now devoted to making your smokers life a living hell--all to extend your life another ten minutes in which to hate them. (I'm not sure if Bill Hicks or Dennis Leary said that first. Or David Sedaris. All smokers, btw.) Anyway, she made dad leap through hoops of discomfort to smoke--and in response, he purchased an air purifier in hopes of literally clearing the air in the house so that she could come visit and he could still merrily puff away.
This poor, poor machine.
I have cleaned the filter on this purifier weekly since I lived here. Anyone who wants to think about quitting should do this job. COVERED in a sticky, resinous, brackish film that stains and stinks. My lungs quiver with excitement just thinking about it.
Anyway, dad was content to never clean it. "Just so long as it gets the stink out!" he would announce as I stared at the exit screen, now stained brown. The first time I cleaned this filter it had not been done for god knows how long. I quit smoking for six months afterwards.
Anyway, when dad went on oxygen, I demanded that no one smoke in the house for any reason due to the risk of, oh, explosion. Dad listened long enough for me to stop talking. Everyone else went outside. I stopped using the air purifier as 1)I didn't think we would need it and 2)It began throwing off sparks.
That's right, sparks. It would crackle and bang and emit high pitched screeches, then a small shower of fireworks. Again, not conducive to an O2 rich environment, so I unplugged it and cut my losses.
Since dad has passed on, we still smoke outside. I have since washed the film of nicotine off most surfaces in the house, cleaned the carpets and drapes, and covered everything with a layer of Febreeze and laundry.
I thought last week, as I was becoming sick, of reviving the air purifier. With a good, thorough douching and a now better work environment, it could cut the allergens down in the house--making T's and my life much easier. That is, if I could revive it.
I douched. I scrubbed. I patiently vacuumed the lint and dust out of the intakes. I held hope in my heart for this hard working machine.
I plugged it in, turned it on....and it worked! Hooray! Pleased with myself, I left it on in the bedroom for a few days.
T and I both experienced dry sinuses and nosebleeds. I shut it off.
Today I decided to turn it on before bed--(notice that I am not sleep blogging.)and was rewarded with a new found problem with the air purifier.
Rhythmic screeching, banging, and a strange thumping. No sparks.
I took it apart, examined the fan, the filter, the intake and blower. Nothing.
I put it back together, and turned it on.
A howl, then nothing. I waited.
I got in bed. Small thump, a series of clicks, then a howl that was like something out of a horror movie. I got up, I turned it off.
THE HOWLING CONTINUED.
I was horrified. I imagined some small animal being trapped inexplicably in the tiny fan at the top, slowly being killed by allergen removal. I unplugged it.
Slowly, the howling ground to a stop.
Again, I took it apart. No animal. Nothing I could see.
Plugged it back in, turned it on. It coughed, sputtered, let out an asthmatic wheeze, and commenced with the howling.
I tore the cord out of the wall, flipped it upside down, opened it up and shook it. Nothing. I slapped the sides. Nothing.
I turned it on again. Howling. I punched it. I punched it again.
A glob of....Something flew out. Nicotine, tar, dust, allergens, the Hope Diamond and lost city of Atlantis, I speculate.
It is now merrily purifying away behind me.
This just goes to show several things:
Punching stuff that is broken works sometimes.
Smoking continually in front of your air purifier is a really bad idea.
Smoking makes things sticky and gross--Lungs, anyone?
A combination of nicotine, tar, dust, allergens, treasure and anthropological speculation does in fact float when hurled into a toilet.
This has been a long winded public service announcement by yours truly. We will now go back to bitching continually about inane bullshit. Thanks for tuning in.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Vacation Eulogy
Today is the last day of my vacation time.
Let us all give a moment of silence, please.
Anyway.
I have managed to give T the death cold just in time for HIS birthday, so we will both remember 2008 as the year we both celebrated birthdays with extreme whining and napping. I am making him chicken soup as an apology.
****************************
Am I so hideous that no one can comment without lying? Is that why you have all taken vows of silence? I mean, I know that you all have lots and lots of stuff going on--good and bad--and that I should stop being so self centered and all, but, hey. Mah.
****************************
I have to go to two meetings this week for work. Stab me. These meetings are so ridiculous.
****************************
That's about it for now. That and I saw a Volkswagen Eurovan today with a lift kit. I nearly wept for laughing.
Let us all give a moment of silence, please.
Anyway.
I have managed to give T the death cold just in time for HIS birthday, so we will both remember 2008 as the year we both celebrated birthdays with extreme whining and napping. I am making him chicken soup as an apology.
****************************
Am I so hideous that no one can comment without lying? Is that why you have all taken vows of silence? I mean, I know that you all have lots and lots of stuff going on--good and bad--and that I should stop being so self centered and all, but, hey. Mah.
****************************
I have to go to two meetings this week for work. Stab me. These meetings are so ridiculous.
****************************
That's about it for now. That and I saw a Volkswagen Eurovan today with a lift kit. I nearly wept for laughing.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Photo Heavy....Prepare yourselves.
Alright. So I am going to go out on a limb here and show you all what I look like. (Most of you know. A few of you haven't seen me in a few years. Feel free to judge. A lot of these are NOT flattering in any real way.)
So, on Saturday, C arrived. We picked her up at the airport, which was an adventure, as T finished his 12 work shift at 5 and we needed to depart for the airport shortly thereafter, and it is 2 hours each way.....Needless to say, he didn't get a lot of sleep before going back to work at 5am the next morning.
So after C arrived, we all noticed that we were wearing matching outfits. All three of us. Without planning it. C then accidentally took a video of us while trying to take a picture at baggage claim.....but got it right in the end.
Thats me, looking tall in the middle. And less than a quarter of T's face on the right. And the beautiful C, of course. And you can't tell we all are matchy matchy.
Anyway, we came back to my house and slept. I had a bit of a scratchy throat, and, thinking it was from scouring my house and inhaling cleaning products, didn't think much of it.
I was wrong. I was sick. Really, truly, horribly sick. I spent the next three days being a royal pain in everyone's ass, lamenting my illness and not budging from the couch. However, I did rally long enough for us to eat a local delicacy, much to T's delight. (Please ignore my laundry nook and general disarray of household.)
And yes, I am that pale. Ask F--there are photos from her wedding shower where I look more so.
Tuesday we hopped into the the car and drove. And drove. And drove. I slept, mostly. We arrived at the strangest lodge I have ever stayed in--and made lots of comments about how like a horror movie it was. We were miles from anywhere, the only guests in the lodge, no TV, no phone, nothing. The owners were seen twice in the entire trip. It was peaceful, relaxing, and warm. Oh, and the bedroom was very, very yellow.
And T likes coffee.
Anyway, I rallied again. On my birthday proper, we went here.
It was lovely. Windy, cold. I managed to forget my kleenex in the car. Not my finest hour, but gorgeous just the same. My kind of beach.
We then went back to the lodge, where I took an amazingly restorative and unintentional nap.
The next day, still sick, we went to the rainforest, where, amazingly, it rained. I wore about three hundred layers in attempt to keep my "on the mend" progress, as well as the "never lost in a crowd" rain jacket/windbreaker/sailing jacket that belonged to my 6'2" father....Sigh.
C and I.
We then were followed by a set of yearlings, who posed for photos with us. It was semi-amazing and scary how close they came to us--they would have come closer had we not backed away.
Anyway, I am feeling much better now, and will have more photos, and perhaps even some words that are worth reading soon.
So, on Saturday, C arrived. We picked her up at the airport, which was an adventure, as T finished his 12 work shift at 5 and we needed to depart for the airport shortly thereafter, and it is 2 hours each way.....Needless to say, he didn't get a lot of sleep before going back to work at 5am the next morning.
So after C arrived, we all noticed that we were wearing matching outfits. All three of us. Without planning it. C then accidentally took a video of us while trying to take a picture at baggage claim.....but got it right in the end.
Thats me, looking tall in the middle. And less than a quarter of T's face on the right. And the beautiful C, of course. And you can't tell we all are matchy matchy.
Anyway, we came back to my house and slept. I had a bit of a scratchy throat, and, thinking it was from scouring my house and inhaling cleaning products, didn't think much of it.
I was wrong. I was sick. Really, truly, horribly sick. I spent the next three days being a royal pain in everyone's ass, lamenting my illness and not budging from the couch. However, I did rally long enough for us to eat a local delicacy, much to T's delight. (Please ignore my laundry nook and general disarray of household.)
And yes, I am that pale. Ask F--there are photos from her wedding shower where I look more so.
Tuesday we hopped into the the car and drove. And drove. And drove. I slept, mostly. We arrived at the strangest lodge I have ever stayed in--and made lots of comments about how like a horror movie it was. We were miles from anywhere, the only guests in the lodge, no TV, no phone, nothing. The owners were seen twice in the entire trip. It was peaceful, relaxing, and warm. Oh, and the bedroom was very, very yellow.
And T likes coffee.
Anyway, I rallied again. On my birthday proper, we went here.
It was lovely. Windy, cold. I managed to forget my kleenex in the car. Not my finest hour, but gorgeous just the same. My kind of beach.
We then went back to the lodge, where I took an amazingly restorative and unintentional nap.
The next day, still sick, we went to the rainforest, where, amazingly, it rained. I wore about three hundred layers in attempt to keep my "on the mend" progress, as well as the "never lost in a crowd" rain jacket/windbreaker/sailing jacket that belonged to my 6'2" father....Sigh.
C and I.
We then were followed by a set of yearlings, who posed for photos with us. It was semi-amazing and scary how close they came to us--they would have come closer had we not backed away.
Anyway, I am feeling much better now, and will have more photos, and perhaps even some words that are worth reading soon.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Stick it in your....face?
The moment my roomie from college stepped of her plane, I felt a scratchy sensation in the back of my throat.
The next morning, after a good nights rest and plenty of water, I was sick as a damn dog with the bug that was going around at work before I left.
Stupid work. Thwarting me at every turn.
I am better than I was. Stuffy nose/throat/ears, now, but better (at least emotionally--I am a total baby when I am sick) to say the least.
I hate being sick.
****************************
Tomorrow we are off on a three day adventure to the west--the coast proper. I haven't been since I was a child (I know, I know. I am also the person who lived right next to one of the most famous national parks for 8 or so years and never went there, either.) and C, the college roomie, has never been. So that will be fun. Staying in a weird bed and breakfast. No cell service, no email. Just me, C, T, books, cards, and the ocean. Oh, and about $200 worth of wine.
****************************
On a lighter note, it appears that the Catholic Church as made being a republican a mortal sin.
I may be the only one laughing. Or finding humor of any sort, there. Really. Anyway.
Talk to you all when i get back. Perhaps I will post photos.....there is already a hilarious one of our accidental matching outfits at the airport.
The next morning, after a good nights rest and plenty of water, I was sick as a damn dog with the bug that was going around at work before I left.
Stupid work. Thwarting me at every turn.
I am better than I was. Stuffy nose/throat/ears, now, but better (at least emotionally--I am a total baby when I am sick) to say the least.
I hate being sick.
****************************
Tomorrow we are off on a three day adventure to the west--the coast proper. I haven't been since I was a child (I know, I know. I am also the person who lived right next to one of the most famous national parks for 8 or so years and never went there, either.) and C, the college roomie, has never been. So that will be fun. Staying in a weird bed and breakfast. No cell service, no email. Just me, C, T, books, cards, and the ocean. Oh, and about $200 worth of wine.
****************************
On a lighter note, it appears that the Catholic Church as made being a republican a mortal sin.
I may be the only one laughing. Or finding humor of any sort, there. Really. Anyway.
Talk to you all when i get back. Perhaps I will post photos.....there is already a hilarious one of our accidental matching outfits at the airport.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
This is NOT a truck stop!
I know that I have been very, very delinquent with my posting lately. Probably due largely to the fact that I have worked a full day (Eight or more hours, thankyouverymuch) every day for the last 12. Stab me.
I am being punished for taking vacation time. See, my old roomie from college is coming out for the 5th anniversary of my 21st birthday (birthdays really lost their luster after 21. I can only imagine how horrified I will be when I leave my 20's if I am this blah about being 26. And stop laughing/yelling at your computers, you members of my readership that are over 35. Thank you.) and so I am taking vacation time from work. I asked for this vacation 4+ months ago, and apparently the new thing to do at work is to work the number of days you have requested off plus a few in a row before your vacation.
Sigh.
So I'm tired. And I lost one of my vacation days due to our new, tyrannical, meeting happy General Manager who is making every employee come to a meeting on Friday (the first day of my vacation) or be fired. I have informed management that due to this, I will NOT be working today. I got someone to cover my shift for me, and if they try to call me in they will be sent immediately to voicemail, where I will laugh heartily at them. Fuck. You. Work.
Also, it is T's birthday one week after mine (and F! Don't you think I could ever forget, baby. So hilarious all the march b-days.) and I have purchased him the most glorious gifts ever (if you're T, anyway) and if they don't make it here in time I may stab myself.
***********************************
Last night being my last official night at work before the vacation, I was in a strangely happy mood. It was slow-ish, I was working with G, (the only male server. Poor, poor man. Not only does he have a wife and daughter, he works with 15 women. The man hasn't seen a toilet seat left up in years.) who I love because he is a darling boy and he doesn't suck as a server. Just before we close, a couple who is staying in the hotel come down to eat dinner. (I am in the "fine dining" restaurant). They are a cuddly, giggling couple, who order $12 martinis and a bottle of wine to share at dinner. They are also making out, groping and dry humping at the table. No peck kisses--not even extended pecks. You could hear the tongues smacking. Gross.
I hate it when people do that. It's horrifying, and rude. All the other restaurant patrons left, leaving G and I alone with the sexed up couple. They totally ignored the fact that we were in and out of the restaurant, they they were next to the windows that face the hallway and everyone could see the shenanigans they were up to....
I came out with the food, and the kitchen being directly across the hall from where these two were seated, immediately made eye contact with the woman through the window. I was able to do this because she was STANDING OVER THE MAN, who had her shirt and bra pulled up to her shoulders, and is licking her BARE BREAST. She saw me see her, and her un-fettered boobies. Rather than go back in the kitchen and wait, I just walked in a dropped the food off. Her response? It wasn't to rush to cover herself. As I stood there, she says to her husband (I am assuming it was her husband) who is STILL LATCHED ON (!), "Dinner is here! We should button up!"
I walked away.
Told G what had happened, and he was horrified. We laughed, and laughed, and laughed. These people were in their late forties at least--Jesus.
I went to the front desk to tell D, who I love, of what happened. She laughed as well, and my question was....
Who does this? Who does this in a fine dining restaurant? This is not a truck stop. (even if it was, still not appropriate.) They weren't drunk, either. That would give them a little leeway. Lord.
And lemme tell you, the boobies--Not that great. I'm glad he liked them, but, well, as an owner of a set (meager or no) I am allowed to judge.
At least they tipped well.
(Spell check is back!)
I am being punished for taking vacation time. See, my old roomie from college is coming out for the 5th anniversary of my 21st birthday (birthdays really lost their luster after 21. I can only imagine how horrified I will be when I leave my 20's if I am this blah about being 26. And stop laughing/yelling at your computers, you members of my readership that are over 35. Thank you.) and so I am taking vacation time from work. I asked for this vacation 4+ months ago, and apparently the new thing to do at work is to work the number of days you have requested off plus a few in a row before your vacation.
Sigh.
So I'm tired. And I lost one of my vacation days due to our new, tyrannical, meeting happy General Manager who is making every employee come to a meeting on Friday (the first day of my vacation) or be fired. I have informed management that due to this, I will NOT be working today. I got someone to cover my shift for me, and if they try to call me in they will be sent immediately to voicemail, where I will laugh heartily at them. Fuck. You. Work.
Also, it is T's birthday one week after mine (and F! Don't you think I could ever forget, baby. So hilarious all the march b-days.) and I have purchased him the most glorious gifts ever (if you're T, anyway) and if they don't make it here in time I may stab myself.
***********************************
Last night being my last official night at work before the vacation, I was in a strangely happy mood. It was slow-ish, I was working with G, (the only male server. Poor, poor man. Not only does he have a wife and daughter, he works with 15 women. The man hasn't seen a toilet seat left up in years.) who I love because he is a darling boy and he doesn't suck as a server. Just before we close, a couple who is staying in the hotel come down to eat dinner. (I am in the "fine dining" restaurant). They are a cuddly, giggling couple, who order $12 martinis and a bottle of wine to share at dinner. They are also making out, groping and dry humping at the table. No peck kisses--not even extended pecks. You could hear the tongues smacking. Gross.
I hate it when people do that. It's horrifying, and rude. All the other restaurant patrons left, leaving G and I alone with the sexed up couple. They totally ignored the fact that we were in and out of the restaurant, they they were next to the windows that face the hallway and everyone could see the shenanigans they were up to....
I came out with the food, and the kitchen being directly across the hall from where these two were seated, immediately made eye contact with the woman through the window. I was able to do this because she was STANDING OVER THE MAN, who had her shirt and bra pulled up to her shoulders, and is licking her BARE BREAST. She saw me see her, and her un-fettered boobies. Rather than go back in the kitchen and wait, I just walked in a dropped the food off. Her response? It wasn't to rush to cover herself. As I stood there, she says to her husband (I am assuming it was her husband) who is STILL LATCHED ON (!), "Dinner is here! We should button up!"
I walked away.
Told G what had happened, and he was horrified. We laughed, and laughed, and laughed. These people were in their late forties at least--Jesus.
I went to the front desk to tell D, who I love, of what happened. She laughed as well, and my question was....
Who does this? Who does this in a fine dining restaurant? This is not a truck stop. (even if it was, still not appropriate.) They weren't drunk, either. That would give them a little leeway. Lord.
And lemme tell you, the boobies--Not that great. I'm glad he liked them, but, well, as an owner of a set (meager or no) I am allowed to judge.
At least they tipped well.
(Spell check is back!)
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