Yay! Sixteen minutes left and other stories

That’s when I need to punch back in. That actually translates into 14 minutes so, I can put my crap away.

Glad I bought food. The pickin’s are slim in the breakroom today.

I got a roast beef sandwich. I always feel guilty eating beef cause I love cows. Why do they have to be delicious?

I know, I have a sick sense of humor. I’m blaming Monty Python and nature for forcing me to be born a month early so that I’m Aquarius and not Pisces. Aquarians are twisted.

It’s 12:08 pm. Yay! I have 6 minutes and too much sandwich left over. I guess I can eat the rest for dinner.

Later….updates later.

UPDATE: 4:06 pm I had to stay half an hour later-actually, so did the opening head cashier-cause NO ONE was scheduled to relieve us. There would have been ZERO cashiers. Great planning, huh? It’s not like at Walmart where there are literally 40-60 cashiers to schedule.

Anyhoo, I’m done. And speaking of Walmart, I have to go back there today because I had beer on the brain (thanks to a silly man with a medical degree) and I forgot a couple of HBA (health and beauty aids) items. Lordy, I’m not thrilled.

There are a couple of things I have to get here, at Sprouts, too. Yay! More shopping. Can I just gouge my eyes out with a melon baller instead? I’m not a consumerist so, only under certain circumstances do I enjoy shopping.

For instance, I do not get thrilled over purses or shoes or the latest makeup crazes. I’m not a tomboy but, I’m not a girlie girl, either. It seems the focus of girlie girls are to attract and make their men happy. Fuck that shit.

I remember this type of chick when I was in college. Those of us who were not girlie types-and many of the men-used to say the girlie girls were in college to earn their MRS degrees. They were more focused on nailing unsuspecting pre-med or pre-law students. Cause, you know, they had a certain lifestyle they had planned for themselves that involved trophy houses. B O R I N G.

They made me happy to be me. That’s what was so cool about being a liberal arts, social science or fine arts major. We all knew our bank accounts were doomed to take forever to flourish. Most of us were thinkers and LIKED writing research papers. School was for expanding your mind, not your marital possibilities or status.

I’m not sure how I drove this bus to this stop. Maybe I was just rambling until I felt like prying my arse off this metal chair in the pre-COVID breakroom.

That time is now. Later, gator…..

Don’t s/he have a purty smile? Check out those bedroom eyes… or maybe this gator is just stoned.

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