Here goes with an entry that should have been written over several days. But it wasn't. And so now it's going to be disorganized and probably confusing. And also missing a lot of essential information. Working backwards, though... we've got Friday night, I think. Which was busy, or would've been, had there not been six concessionists working. (And yet it still took us until eleven to finish closing, huh). As it was, I spent a lot of time getting popcorn for other people. It was the second night of our new American Heart Association charity thing... which means, oddly, that they've given the hearts to the concessionists to sell this time. We counted... we now have to ask a minimum of five questions. Combo question, upsize, the banned butter-on-popcorn-question that you have to ask if you want to ever finish with the customer, anything else?, and now "would you like to donate a dollar to the American Heart Association?" Not to mention the "would you be interested in getting any large candy for only two dollars?" (they're normally 3.75). And yada yada yada. Really, I'm surprised no one's tried to attack me yet. Anyway, I was going somewhere with this... there was this guy. He had the thickest redneck accent I've heard in a while. And weird teeth. And talked sooo slooow I thought I'd never get through the order, and every minute spent with him might also be lowering my IQ, for all I could tell. So I got to the heart question, and he smiles at me and buys one... and writes his name. Which takes a while. And I watch him write it, but it's upside down so I just like his name is, like, a weird spelling of Crowley or something, who knows. And he hands it to me... and leaves. And I look at it. And I think about it for a second, and I'm fairly sure that the chance is very great that this guy's real name is... Crowbar McGee. Crowbar McGee. I couldn't keep a straight face for a good five minutes after that, on top of all the other crazy stuff that kept going on.
Saturday was uneventful, even though one of our managers did try to trick me into coming in at ten instead of eleven. Which is simply demonic when you worked until eleven the night before. My shift was until 8, anyway. I'll tell you, the people that come in to see Devil's Rejects are some of the strangest people ever. Most of them are nice, but lots of them smell very weird, and they're definitely the sort of people that
sketchyheart's mom thinks exists in the anime subculture (which most of them don't). I don't mind the strange goth-like ones... it's the redneck idiots that bother me. Because they get angry easier over stupid things like all the questions the concessionists have to ask. Plus you can't explain things to them as easily. They're the ones to be afraid of. Er... anyway, nothing happened on Saturday.
Crowbar McGee... hahaha. I mean... that's awfully odd for a nickname. And he didn't seem the type to write it down as a joke. But I've been known not to give people much credit that way when they seem stupid to me, so... oh dear. Crowbar? Does he have friends named Tire Iron Jones and Allen Wrench Anderson? Axelrod Martin?
My dad and I were supposed to take a field trip to Cleveland today to look for a new computer, but I guess we're going to have to wait until my mom and sister get back. Which means my mom will continue to complain about not being able to buy one, and end up buying some stupid Dell because she's obstinate like that, and would enjoy proving me wrong, but if they think I'll fix it if they buy a Dell, they're quite mistaken. I mean, our computer's been dying for years, it's completely foolish to have not saved up anything to replace it. And, of course, my sister is going to use mine even more now, and my mom will too, and my computer just doesn't deserve that kind of abuse. I'm already going to have to reformat it when I get back to Chicago, I really don't need to push that date up any more.
And I'm really sad this morning now, because when my dad went out to breakfast he found Baby Gus by the road. Something either hit her, or beat her up pretty terribly. I feel really bad... she hadn't been in the house for a few days, and I was wondering what was wrong, since she wanted to be a house cat and sit on me all the time. Poor girl. There's something out there that keeps beating our cats up, and I've got no idea what it is. It already almost killed my Mewoo, and now it got Baby Gus. She had such pretty eyes... it was so sad to see her like that. Even though she ate the baby birds outside... poor Gus.
Saturday was uneventful, even though one of our managers did try to trick me into coming in at ten instead of eleven. Which is simply demonic when you worked until eleven the night before. My shift was until 8, anyway. I'll tell you, the people that come in to see Devil's Rejects are some of the strangest people ever. Most of them are nice, but lots of them smell very weird, and they're definitely the sort of people that
Crowbar McGee... hahaha. I mean... that's awfully odd for a nickname. And he didn't seem the type to write it down as a joke. But I've been known not to give people much credit that way when they seem stupid to me, so... oh dear. Crowbar? Does he have friends named Tire Iron Jones and Allen Wrench Anderson? Axelrod Martin?
My dad and I were supposed to take a field trip to Cleveland today to look for a new computer, but I guess we're going to have to wait until my mom and sister get back. Which means my mom will continue to complain about not being able to buy one, and end up buying some stupid Dell because she's obstinate like that, and would enjoy proving me wrong, but if they think I'll fix it if they buy a Dell, they're quite mistaken. I mean, our computer's been dying for years, it's completely foolish to have not saved up anything to replace it. And, of course, my sister is going to use mine even more now, and my mom will too, and my computer just doesn't deserve that kind of abuse. I'm already going to have to reformat it when I get back to Chicago, I really don't need to push that date up any more.
And I'm really sad this morning now, because when my dad went out to breakfast he found Baby Gus by the road. Something either hit her, or beat her up pretty terribly. I feel really bad... she hadn't been in the house for a few days, and I was wondering what was wrong, since she wanted to be a house cat and sit on me all the time. Poor girl. There's something out there that keeps beating our cats up, and I've got no idea what it is. It already almost killed my Mewoo, and now it got Baby Gus. She had such pretty eyes... it was so sad to see her like that. Even though she ate the baby birds outside... poor Gus.