"We need two trays of 10-1's!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Oh yeah! And another tray of quarters!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Some grilled chicken! 6 of them!"

"...yes, sir..."

"And some more bacon!"




And that's precisely how my days in the pithole of McDonalds went. They also have this ability to be quite unorganised people who don't bother to give the 'new girl' her schedule until exactly 2 hours before she can start the shift she hasn't an idea that she's doing. All last night, whilst cleaning the grills and quietly humming some tunes to myself, scores of people came up to me asking for me to either 'speak' or 'smile', whom I didn't reply to, of course, out of sheer annoyance. Yes, kids! Smile! I'm standing 6 hours in a steamy grill working at top speed to meet demands of fat, unwanted people who couldn't live a bloody day without some sort of greasy-filled cow carcass instilled into their stomaches! Can't say I exactly smile to cooking cows anyways, considering I'm a vegetarian.

This was a mistake! A mistake! But I shall keep on doing the filthy job until I get my needed amount of money. Ah, the price of money. Is it worth it? Yes, perhaps. I haven't the slightest where I am at the moment, though.


Yesterday afternoon I went off to McDonalds sported in the usual blue-and-black uniform with a rather itchy visor in a nervous manner, but I gathered the courage to tell them I was the 'new kid', and I was soon set up with a goofy-looking bloke whose name escapes me now. I was set up in the back cooking tenderloins, quarter meats, chicken and bacon for a long while, whilst learning how to mop the floors, clean up the grills, and make salads that completely disgusted me, and by the last 15 minutes I made cute talk with my friend and a couple of other co-workers. It was quite fun, actually, and I'll be heading to cook more fat-infested meats this afternoon until late at night, but I think I shall manage. The top manager of the place is not to my liking though--ugly, thick-brimmed glasses, a rather rude sense of humour, and the tendency to yell at people as if they're in the military--but they say I'm a good person. I'll manage this cocky little git for the rest of the weekend, methinks.

At least, I can only hope so.


Although I do take quite a fancy to 'out-of-the-ordinary', one must realise there is a thin line between brilliance and being high on LSD. Ie; Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Caroll. It was simply not reaching the brilliant and self-loving standards I have become accustomed to by other grandeur books I had found in sheer luck. I hardly could understand what he was going on about, until I came across the part of the story with the odd-looking caterpillar sucking on some unknown substance out of a hookah. That caterpillar must've been high too. Along with Alice too, mind you. I've been known to write some rather odd stories, but frankly, they did make somewhat sense. This simply just reeks of 'what you've been smokin', Joe?'-ness.

A simple foreshadowing of my homework I've neglected to do for the past 2 days. Shame on me, shame!


After one feeble week of nothingness after another, the days have taken their toll on me, leaving me completely disallusional and unable to communicate effectly (to the point of me imitating the drunkard down the street). In fact, I've become so disallusional I've started talking up in that poor excuse for an educational facility called school, usually unaware of what exactly I've been babbling about, but from what I've been told it's been odd little bits of political insight, a light into my childish self, and sometimes outbursts of outrage completely done in british slang talk. I guess this certainly thwarts any attempts in making myself drunk. If I ever become drunk, the results won't be too pretty for the eyes, methinks.

On second note, as I browsed through the medicine section at Super Wal-Mart just a few hours ago, I distinctly heard a young man scream an aisle near me in a psychotic tone, "I THINK I LOVE YOU!!!" It was promptly followed by a woman screaming for her dear life, along with some rather disturbing giggles and 'hee hees'. I didn't give it much thought--maybe perhaps just a chuckle or two before checking out the rest of the multi-vitamins--but when I once returned home it started to manifest into my brain. More proof my brain has been slowed down by some unknown force, probably the side-effects of that dreadful medicine called Benadryll. My friend had warned me about that nasty thing, but I ignored it and had the thing anyways, and now I pay the well-overdue price. Even though I consider myself superiour to most teenage folk, it's probably a good idea to listen to medical advice from them, especially when you're disallusioned and feeling drunk beyond belief.