Today is Eric's (the bizarre old Classical clerk) last day. There's cake. And punch! Eric is older than dirt and so incredibly strange. Seriously strange. Science project strange. And, he pees on the toilet seat every time he uses the Unisex restroom here at work. Hey, I'm a busy girl. Sometimes I wait until I just can't wait no more to go pee only to find that I have to cross my legs and wiggle while I bust out a sponge and some Clorox bathroom cleaner to clean off the seat. As one of three females in the building, my pleas of "if you can't make it in the hole, sit your ass down" have largely been ignored. I'm interested to see if Eric is really the main culprit or simply a victim of bad timing. For example, perhaps it was one of the underlings who peed all over the seat, the rim, the lid, the tank and the floor, and Eric just went in after him. I then go in last and blame Eric for marking his territory. It doesn't help that a certain ne'erdowell from the record store spreads stories of Eric's longetivity being attributed to a morning ritual of a frothy yellow cocktail for breakfast. :P Perhaps poor old Eric is innocent afterall. Or I'm just all hopped up on my frosting high and feeling kindhearted on his last day.
To all who are concerned, Tami was released from the hospital today and should be on her way to Pennsylvania by 6:30 tomorrow. Yippee! We still don't know what's ailing her, but they'll figure that out in January.
Oh, and to the doughboy who sat his ass on the stool as Sofia and I tried to navigate our way out of the Santa Monica Pier parking lot...How about a little less lip, Waldo. We DID follow the &$% signs and we STILL ended up back at your booth, so how about a little more help instead of your flippant "uh, follow the signs?" commentary when the nice sober ladies ask you for directions. Obviously your signs suck.