Hell To Pay

I notive today that the greasy hair, baggy pants, dirty t-shirt, quasi-facial hair on men is coming back. I am NOT happy about this. It makes me feel dirty, and oddly enough, miss the metrosexual, a breed I used to dispise. A snippy Asian woman asks how much O.J. is before walking out when I tell her I'll be with her in a minute because I am helping someone else right now. She is the first of two people to do this today. A gorgeous black woman comes in and I have seen her SOMEWHERE before and for some reason I think it was on America's Next Top Model. She just looks soo familiar and perhaps like a contestant. I cannot place her name or season though. Hmm. The Russian is absent, though I know she will return, unfortunately. I look forward to days when she is not here. Though, there doesn't seem to be a set schedual of her time off. She will return, oh yes, and fill my days with hate and anger and frustration. One of the GAYEST men alive comes in with HUGE diamond earrings that pretty much blind me, long pearl and jade necklaces that an old woman would wear, a diamond encrusted watch and diamond bracelets. He has a woman's handbag that had what looks like real glod chains on it. His hair is thinning and yet he has it cut and styled like that of a man 20 years his junior. And the awful clincher on and otherwise ok day is that a stupid son of a bitch ruined my coat. I do not keep my coat in a locker because I have not been assigned one yet and the "stupid, fat one" still puts bleach directly on the floor when the manager is not around. Now my coat is dangerously close to the ground and with one lazy fuckin slosh, my coat is ruined. I am done with work and just fucking leave ASAP. When I get home, I start my project. I completely finish bleaching the coat. It is now a light dirty brown color. I also bought black dye (the coats' ORIGINAL color) and tomorrow before work, I am going to the laundromat to dye my coat back to the old lovely black it used to be. And if it's ruined, there will be hell to pay. The only reason I did not bitch this fucker out is because he barely speaks English and he wouldn't understand it, so I am going to wait and see what happens and if anything goes wrong, I am getting a translator and bitching the fuck out of this motherfucker.

Seven Dollars 1/31/06

So I am about to kill a bitch. The Russian is royaly pissing me off. I am tired of this yeast infected cunt ordering me around and giving me dirty looks. This shit is so not cute. And she stole the cookie I told her I wanted. Of all the things, that pisses me off the most. Don't come between me and my sugar rush! Some coy Swedish woman tries to flirt with me and play yound for some unknown reason but she is DEFINATELY 50 or older...and I'm not into that shit. I found a certain code that I will not state here that allows me to break into the register. I know it is not a manager's code or any code for another co-worker because it's 40 numbers long. I will hold this information until it becomes useful. A guy tips me $7...my first REAL tip. I know that I have to conceal it or I must put it in the jar and lose. So I slowly crumple it into a ball, put it in my pocket and go to the bathroom. In the bathroom, I pull out the money, fold it neatly and stick it in my underwear where no one will ever find it. A black guy stole the tips today before I got there. Which is why it was so easy for me to take mine. They took the jar away. Awesome. Close to closing, we always tell people that everything is to go. A middle aged guy raises his voice to me saying that we shouldn't kick people out. I look at him and he can see in my eyes that it's not my decision or my cafe. I make coffee. He quickly calms down and goes away. A fag flirts with me but seriously, this guy is only a 6 and I don't go below a 7 even in desperate times ever so he's already failing there. I don't do mediocre. That and when he slides a $10 across the counter, his fingernails are filthy. This would never happen, even I could. Silly faggot.