No That was more like an F the holiday to do around here … it’s just as obnoxious as the Xmas going on just with no presents this year … But that’s only because my IHSS check is still messed up …my cousin used to call it Xmas 2 the sequel …
I’m sorry I don’t remember, but what do you work at? Are you a nurse/doctor/healthcare worker? Twelve hours is one heck of a shift.
dickies BBQ resturant …mmm now that would of been a nice easter dinner lol
Yes, yes it is. 
“Thanks” for the reminder about taxes, but real thanks for the reminder about chocolate. I’ll need it. We sure we can’t sic Pretzel on the IRS?
No worries. I work at a restaurant (Dickeys, a bbq joint, like shades said) and we’ve had some, ah, personnel losses lately.
So the G.M. is scrambling for coverage, and since I’m flexible (e.g. have no family or similar obligations) and broke, I’m happy to take on as many extra hours as I can possibly handle.
But yeah, 12 hours on your feet is a lot for a 40-mumble-year-old.
I’m recuperating with the magic of simple carbs: a bowl of Lucky Charms, and a mini tube of whomp croissants.
My gods, I hope I can sleep in tomorrow. Lately I’ve been dead-ass asleep when my work alarm goes off but waking early on my rare days off or later shifts, when I could sleep in.
Do be careful, there is a recall out on them right now.
wha? do tell …
shoe Love the term “whomp croissants.” And I like 'em myself.
my aunt had a bad experience with a can of biscuits exploding and ever since then she has to have someone else open them
apparently, when they get old a gas develops in the can which is why if they get too old or warm they pop open in the fridge …Well when mom told her to open a can shed just “whomp” then om the side of the sink but no one checked the dates or noticed the can had swollen a little … and she whomped a large can of them and they went boom… loud enough to scare the pets and send gooey dough everywhere and even though aunt denies it legend has it she started bawling because she A. thought she blew up the kitchen and able blew up her hand
I still remember the epic day that Mom whomped a can of biscuits and shot the family dog in the side of the head from six feet away. 55 or so years ago, the cans weren’t as predictable as they could have been and the end popped off. Us kids 'bout peed our pants laughing and the unharmed dog managed to snarf down half the biscuit dough before Mom got to them and put the dog outside to puke. (wipes laughter tears just from the memory of the dog’s face when he got whomped.)
Despite not being able to remember the last time I’ve had Lucky Charms, I still felt very outraged about the possible recall.
Last night while we were going to bed, hubs left the baby gate open and the crabby little old cat escaped. GG scrambled off in a panic to hide under the bed in the back room while his 18 year old decrepit nemesis scarpered into the kitchen to eat as much of GG’s fud as he could get down his throat before we corralled him. (All kitties are sure that we give the best fud to the other kitties. It’s just a thing.)
We had noticed that GG was peeking out the door to see if it was safe, but forgot that he was standing behind the door AND that he’s just not that smart. Our doors are nicely balanced and a large cat leaning against one while peeking around the edge will easily push the door closed.
GG didn’t mind the door being closed for long enough to forget about the monster and then he thought he wanted out, but we had already gone to bed.
He wailed, he whined, he pulled the doorstop out of the door and chewed the rubber end and pulled it off. VBC finally got tired of the drama and jumped the baby gate to tell us to shut him up. (Hubs is deaf as a post and snores so I wear earplugs.) Once VBC had walked over us enough to get our attention, she hopped back over the baby gate to wait by the door for one of us stoopid hooman to open the damned door and let her deal with her kitten.
A recall on friggin’ Lucky Charms?!? Okay, that’s it; that’s quite enough. The global pandemic, the economic upheavals, the never-ending parade of deaths of beloved celebrities, the planet-wide climate changes … now a kiddie cereal brings sickness?
This whole “2020’s” decade can kiss my tired old ass.
Jane the Cane a two-fer! Dog AND cat anecdotes! That cheered me up a bit.
{ sob } Now all I want in life is another bowl of cereal. It feels … so forbidden. 
… continuing the Carb-Fest with a pasta T.V. dinner for Second Supper at 6 a.m. I’ve been up since precisely 4:20 a.m. { snerk } and I am bloody determined to get more sleep.