the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.
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10:26 a.m. + 2004-06-19 = where're my L7 cds?
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the "head" baker of the birchwood came in this morning to talk to me, to address some concerns/issues [as she put it].
i had left something in the oven last week. a note taped to a timer with big blocklettered print [ TIMER FOR COBBLER, BOTTOM OVEN, PULL OUT] is apparently unacceptable... that i must tell the kitchen manager that I am leaving something in the oven. [which I did. he forgot. and i'm finding it ever-so prevalent that minnesota kitchens are filled with blame-shifting kitchen managers/head bakers.]
oh, and what else? if Greg [kitchen manager of birchwood] asks me to cut up and dish out a pie, i must do it.
[again, I did. I dished up everything I could, everything that wouldn't run all over the fuckin' plate due to it still being too warm to have set.]
so. i'm a bit bollocksy at the moment. and i don't feel like working at the Wedge. and i'm not feeling particularly healthy. and i'm nearly out of Hall's Defense sucky-thingies. [i'll tell y'all one thing, i don't have scurvy.]
and greg [who flunked geometry and can't spell things properly and hates people that correct him because "the world don't work that way" (and i'm much too tired to contest him)] and stacy ["head" baker of birchwood... tries to be scandinavian... worked for the minneapolis Aquavit... but this isn't nearly as impressive as it sounds since I have it on the utmost authority that she had 11, ahem... ELEVEN, W-2 forms last year. allow to reitirate, drive this point home: EELLEEVVEENN. 9+2= ELEVEN] can just, pardon the childishness, lick my balls.
aaaaaaaahhhh. i feel much better now. thank you diaryland.
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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far
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