Me: "Oh, did I tell you Mr. K proposed to me?"
The Boy: *aghast* "No!"
Me: "Yeah. We're supposed to get married."
The Boy: "Was he serious?"
Me: "Oh my God, of course not!"
The Boy: "Well, I mean, he is kind of an idiot."
He's lucky I decided that was funny.
They send out monthly e-mails. This one's intro sentence: "We can tell spring is here because people are wearing sunglasses with their umbrellas."
So true.
<--Yes, that is Martin from Oblivion, and no, I don't want to explain.
Peter and I met up at the cafe Maddo and I did a lot of NaNoWriMoing at, and my favorite Coffee Guy was there, wearing his "Utilikilt," combat boots, and sporting new surface piercings.
I ordered a mocha and a sandwich. Sandwich was given to me instantly. Mocha never made it to the bar. I walked over to him about ten minutes later, grinned pleasantly, and said "So, how's my mocha?"
He facepalms. "I don't know, how is it?"
"Hopefully good. I'm dying to find out."
Pause. "What size was it?"
"Sixteen ouce."
"Let's make that a 20."
"Oh, wow. Thanks so much!"
There was almost a riot at the concert I was ushering for tonight. I wish this were one of my classic cases of hyperbole, but it is not.
The problem? The ticket salespeople showed up and discovered someone had stolen the mouse and keyboard to the ticketing computer.
The solution? Get a new mouse and keyboard and ask the people who needed to buy tickets to wait.
THAT IS WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IN A SANE UNIVERSE, ANYWAY. Instead, they started screaming at the poor ticketing girl. Actually screaming, people. And she just kind of sat there and wilted and tried to explain the situation, but the crowd was having none of it because God I hate people. Meanwhile, the other two ushers and I are standing by the door doing our best impressions of >:o
"Fuck this," I muttered to Daryl, tossing him my programs and walking over to the mob. (I have this vague feeling that I made out with the ticket girl freshman year. Or wanted to. Or maybe want to now. Who knows. Either way, I needed to save her.)
"How hard would it be for us to pay you and just have you take a count on a piece of paper? I do not understand what the problem is!" shrieked one of our regulars.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said in my best teacher voice, and lo! the mob was silenced. "We are doing everything we can to get you all tickets and seats in a timely fashion. The concert doesn't start until 7:30, so if you bear with us and stop distracting the ticket people while they work out their technical issues, we shouldn't have a problem."
Stony stares.
"Any UPS students, please talk to the ushers by the door and take your seats now. We'll count you ourselves. Those of you who need to pay, please realize that someone has stolen the mouse and keyboard to the ticketing computer, which is what is causing the delay."
"That's terrible!" muttered a man in the back, and I listened while the news was passed back along the line.
"Why can't you just do it manually?" barked the ringleader.
"Ma'm, we are student staff, and there are a specific set of rules for ticket sales we are required to follow unless we want to lose our jobs. None of the management seem to have made it here tonight, and are also not answering their phones." (Believe me, we tried to call.)
"Isn't there a Plan B?!"
"I wish there were. Here, let me open the main doors so you don't have to hold them yourselves. Excuse me."
And thus the riot was quelled, and there were adulations from the ticketpeople, who have vowed to love me till the day I die.
Have I mentioned I fucking hate people?
NOTE TO SELF: Update this banner.