Yesterday morning I had to drop off the parents’ dog at the vet. He’s got a handful of fatty tumors growing on him and they were having the biggest of them cut off. For a long time I told them to just get me a heavy gauge syringe I’d just suck it out. A farm supply store would probably sell it to them for about four dollars, but I know this vet is going to charge them over a hundred dollars. So I got the dog in the morning from their house, he seemed completely unmotivated to go on a “road trip” which he usually loves. I don’t think it really sank in on why he was there until when I handed the leash over to the receptionist and turned to leave, he had the saddest look on his little schnauzer face.

At work, a guy from “Mr. Meatball out of Columbus” came and tried to sell us their pre-made meatballs. When the guy showed up at the back door to my kitchen he asked for a manager. I didn’t feel like dealing with him, so I told him Tom was the manager, and walked off. A little later I saw the dog wardens and a ZPD cruiser out the back window of the restaurant. Tom said they were after Stanley’s dogs, but I didn’t see them take any dogs, and I thought they were at the house just past his. Later in the day Stanley would tell me that a unnamed person complained to the Powers that Be that his two dogs attacked, but managed to not bite, them while they were raking leaves. Well, reader, it’s late December, the leaves have been off the trees for a long time, and if someone is just now raking those leaves, they’re the laziest SOB in Zanesville… Well not as lazy as the people who just don’t bother raking them…

I started to type my Mexico journal at work in between shifts, but because Terra sat a table at 2pm (when I get off) I got a late start, and than Katie took me to Garfield’s, which took the other hour of my break, so I’ll finish it and post it to Stevenski.com tonight or tomorrow. Garfield’s we ate the “ultimate nachos” or whatever they call them. They’re always good. For some reason the restaurant stopped putting that butcher paper down on the table. I like drawing on it.

During the night shift, Lucy was working and she was completely annoying me. She just acts like she stopped developing mentally when she was about fourteen years old and than ever since than someone has been making her smoke crack for breakfast. Early in the night she asked Tom where in the computer “black angus” was. She honestly was trying to ring in the breed of cow. I mean I know that the restaurant is trying to push the black angus meat we’ve been getting in, and I know that the customer could have said “Whatever your black angus steak is,” but you can’t just ring in the breed of cow that the meat came from.

Marco had got in a selection of hot wing sauces as a sampler a week or so back, Stanley, last night, asked me where the “honey bbq” was. I said “Tom jacked it,” and he said “Seriously? I was planning on jacking it,” Eh, I can’t really say anything, I was planning on “jacking” the cajun sauce, I just never remember to do it.