I just got back from Tee Jayes with Katie. Cheap breakfast food and a customer base that makes you feel better about who you are. This is my favorite place to go when I don’t feel motivated to “get ready for the day”, because no one else there does either. Or maybe they did get ready for the day, it just wasn’t the same day everyone else was preparing for. I ate too much, but that’s ok. I’ve got three hours before work.

Yesterday morning, after I left the house I bumped into Otto. I haven’t talked to him for a couple months. I told him about my travels and he found out that at least one of the trips was for missionary endeavors. So he asked me if I’d got saved, and I told him that I had been for a long time, I just haven’t been doing much with it, and now I’m trying to. I told him how I quit drinking and it was pretty tough sometimes. He said that he was raised up in a religious house, but has been in a bad way for awhile, and he invited me over to read some verses. I thought that was cool, no one has ever suggested I come over and read the Bible to me. He kept swearing around me in that casual way that people do, and he kept getting embarrassed and apologizing for it. If that guy only knew that I swear like a sailor when I’m in the kitchen… Well I try not to, and I think I’m doing better, but the sin isn’t in simply swearing, at least I think, any sin found in that is knowingly doing something that offends someone else with no benefit to the action. If I literally lived up to “swearing like a sailor”, I’d still fall short of a lot of the other people’s cursing in the restaurant. That’s not justification, that’s just letting you all know that I don’t think anyone takes offense.

The lunch shift was boring. When I got there Marco was dismantling the broken down meat cooler that was near the grill station, finally getting it out of my kitchen after months of just sitting there oxidizing. I helped carry it out and dump it behind the storage trailer. I suggested to Ryan that we come back at three or four in the morning, haul it to the top of the hill, and ride it down bobsled style into Underwood. He thought it was a good idea, the kind of “good idea” that never gets done because of all the reasons that it’s a “bad idea” too. I thought that shooting down a hill in a metal box into a deserted thoroughfare would be a blast, but I suppose he was busy thinking of legal ramifications and safety issues. He was probably thinking of logistics as well. How do we get that banged up cooler back to where we found it after we launch down a steep incline in it? There was a errant car hood near where the cooler was left, so I thought maybe we could attach it to the bottom, which would help it going down the hill and than moving it back…

Oh well, maybe I can still talk him into it.

During the lunch break I spent it here at home with Katie, we didn’t really do anything other than just hang out. On the way back to work I found a dead robin on the sidewalk just on this side of the Memorial Bridge. I decided that the bird would receive a burial at sea… Or at least, at river. So I thought that at the middle point of the bridge would be a good point to release the body of the bird into the water below. As I walked across the bridge I could see a old blue sedan coming up and the passenger side window being rolled down quickly. After months of riding or walking across that bridge and along Underwood I knew that this is a precursor to someone either yelling at me or throwing something at me. With this information in mind, I hefted the corpse of the bird, and cocked my arm back. Sure enough, the passenger shouted something at me, but looked like he was just being friendly, not being an ass. If his face would have shown more malice it would have caught about seven ounces of bird corpse. The bird was dropped from the mid point of the bridge and I watched it spiral down into the cold water under the bridge.

The dinner shift was busy. The only two things of note that occurred was that when I went to the bathroom early in the night, I discovered that some idiot had wiped two healthy boogers on the inside of the stall door. I mean, come on, boogers? What is this? Third grade? They got flushed and I got angry. The other thing that happened is, after a busy night it’s not too uncommon for the kitchen to get drinks from the bar. I quit drinking, so I had Tina bring me the gayest drink I could think of, which is pineapple juice and a bit of lime. Now, this in and of itself isn’t gay, but when it’s put into a tall frosted glass and served with a big colorful garnish, it is. And I drank it with a straw, and held it in a rather flamboyant fashion. The new server said “please stop holding that glass like that!”. Oh dear, don’t you know this is how I am?