A Man's Grill | 10/07/04

Hooray for Jamie! I got my present early today, since "I would need it before my party". It's a grill. A real grill, not one of those Weber "I'm a poor college student" grills. Like, one with a big ol' propane tank. It also came with all the proper scraping, flipping and stabbing implements. Hooray! We had steaks on it tonight and they were delicious. I found out the "big project" at work was just the same stupid thing I'd been working on for the past two weeks and is all but done. What's worse is that I won't be able to get the information I need until diplomats from the circuit courts come next Thursday. Looks like another four days of making sure that every image (which will undoubtedly be changed later) has some sort of hideous rollover effect and every line of text has a marquee. Gag. It could be worse...I used to work at EcoLab, (the chemical plant) and my first job there was to follow employees around and time them. Time them doing everything. Yes, I was much-beloved there. My first employee was this old Hispanic woman, just a real bitch. Every time she'd cough or stretch she'd come over right in my face and say, "Did ya get that one?" Then she'd repeat the motion and say, "Howabout this one?" She made sure everyone really hated me. It didn't help that I was required to use a stopwatch. She had some mean nickname for me by the end but it was in Spanish and I can't remember what it was. Eventually I was promoted to clocking the mixing guys. That wasn't as bad because I had learned to look the other way and just pretend to work. This guy Clem, with a deformed hand from it accidentally getting caught in a chemical mix, and I bonded over the band Styx. Not that I could have told you a single song of theirs at the time, but when someone is shaking a gnarled limb in your face, by God, you better shut up and agree. I also recall eating in the lunchroom, by myself of course, when some random guy walked up to me as I was drinking my Sprite, put his hands on the table in front of me, leaned over and said, "Straws are for p*$$ies". And that's why I never use straws anymore, except for kiwi lemonade at Ruby Tuesdays. God, I hated that job.




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