Hello Happy World!
So, I'm just sitting here, in my apartment, in my fabulous reversible pj pants. (I don't know why one would ever need reversible pj pants, and yet I have them. But they are SUPER comfy... actually they almost look as if they could be workout pants. Let's use that excuse. Then, instead of being lazy, I'm just prepping for the workout. Never mind the fact that they are about a foot too long, cause I'm totally short, so in all reality I could never work out in them. Let's play with the illusion. Wow... can we say digress??)
I am also contemplating the option of Scuttle being dead on the freeway somewhere in New Mexico. Either he's still asleep at this crazy hour, and so is his driving buddy, or he's dead. Or maybe he doesn't have cell phone service. Or maybe he's in the slammer, cause he's driving on narcotics, got pulled over and they ran a drug test and jailed him. If that's the case, then he totally had to use his one phone call to call his parents. I don't have the means to provide bail money. Or, he's just dead. That would totally whomp. Seriously. But what other explanation would there be for the lack of communication since midnight last night. And being the totally sensible person that I am, I of course know the answer. Death. I think maybe I understand a bit more why my dear Father gets so nervous when we drive anywhere. Death. It's a bummer.
All of this has nothing to do with what I planned on blogging about... well, except for the part where I'm blogging to distract myself from my dearly loved Scuttle's untimely demise.
Once again, I'm going to talk about work.
Picture this with me, you go to Subway, and as you walk in, and stand in front of the sandwich unit. Because we at Subway like to let you see what you are getting, there is a large curved piece of glass showing you all that we have. (Also known as the sneeze guard) Now ask yourself a question. When you order, how close do you stand to the sneeze guard. How much do you touch the sneeze guard?
I am amazed how many sensible adults can't keep their grimy, oily hands off of the glass. They touch it all over the place. It's like they think, if they just say the word "cucumber" my limited intelligence will have no idea what they are talking about so they have to point as well. And they don't just poke. They slide. They slide their hands all over the glass making it all sorts of streaky and gross looking. Don't you know that people have to clean that off? That's just plain rude.
Now on to a more sensitive subject. I inform you all of this for your own well being, as well as mine. Just imagine something with me. Picture yourself leaning against the glass. Now picture me on the other side, seeing all of you, squished up, in a very unattractive way, against the glass. And that's all I can see. I see your stomach, (if you are a woman) your breasts, and your forearms, in all their you aren't a size -4 glory. Squished up in the most unflattering way for all of the world to see. Ok, not all of the world, just us Subway girls.
I'll admit it. I have some squish to me as well. But I just cannot fathom what in the world would possess a seemingly rational adult to practically climb up onto the glass thus displaying all of their squishiness for us to witness. It's not pretty. And it's a distraction. That is why you have to point at the cucumbers. It's not because I'm stupid. It's because I am trying so hard to not look at the girth of your body pressed up against the glass.
So, please, PLEASE. Step away from the glass.
PS. Scuttle isn't dead. I'm so glad.