sir. you can't sit there and vomit. you need to move yourself to our bathroom facilities.

so i'm almost off of my graveyard shift
pushing far away, just for the moment, all the tragedy of 24 years
trying to embrace the blessings
one being that i have a job i enjoy
graveyard and all
it is at this time i am bussing a table and oops!
the drunk bumps into the blonde asian and bam!
there it is: ranch dressing
on the shirt
on the apron
in the apron
in the book
on the money
wonderful!
(i am smiling)
fuck! wonderful!
and the english man at the counter...
there he is again
leaving me voicemails

okay, so i'm home now
after my 3 minute drive from work
and 40 minute search for parking
my apartment mate is passed out on the couch again
and the "swivel sweeper" is proving itself a good product
but i know better than to call that number on the television
only 2 easy payments of blah blah blah
c'mon!

things are changing
please
please come with me
or don't
never want you to do anything you don't want to
but man, i think it'll be fun
think it'll be okay

watch this sunrise with me
watch in wonder this life
it's so much better with you by my side
you know?

you know.

hey!

if we call right now they'll knock off a payment and throw in not 1 but TWO
MINI swivel sweepers

if you call right now
i'll throw in a smile and a tear
a girl and all her tough
all her vulnerable
and her incredible ever changing hair

ranch dressing

no, i'm not throwing that in
i'm just noticing the smell of it reaking off my clothes

oh. yes.
and the man at the table.
"excuse me" she says to my fellow server
"i know you are taking that to-go box to your table, but can we have that?
trust me" she says "you want to give it to us."
and she procceeds to hand the container to her friend
who promptly begins to throw up into the styrofoam hollow
i quote the blonde asian: [insert above title]

i've seen alot.
that was fucking disgusting.
ew.