I like sandwiches. This is not that uncommon, as I assume that most people enjoy a good sandwich. However, when most people order a sandwich from their respective sandwich wizard, they get a wonderful concoction of meats and vegetables for their mandibles to masticate. Not me. I get a crappy sandwich with a side of bad math. Now I am not normally the type of person to mock those lacking mathematical skills; for some people, it's just not their cup of tea. But I do have standards regarding my expectations when said person is attempting math with my money. When I give you a dollar for something that costs twenty cents, it should take you no longer than two seconds to come to the conclusion that you owe me eighty cents. Not this chick, she has her own fucking agenda going on. My sandwich and drink cost me $9.20 (holy fucking shit, I paid almost ten dollars for a sandwich!), and I gave her a $10 bill. Do the math. Are you done yet? You should be. Not this bitch. She had to count the eighty cents, and then she grabbed more change, put it in her other hand, and then spent approximately three minutes looking back and forth between her two hands as if she held Life in one hand and Death in the other. It was, is a word, fascinating. To watch the mouse in her brain spin its last turn on the wheel before it died of exhaustion was simply amazing, and I for one am glad I was there to witness it. These people are the future. That is fucking frightening.
So long, my love, it always hurts to see you. Every time I call you're running out the door.