football friday night.

This is part of a lengthy narrative I received from an old pal at Starbucks.
I wish I could share the whole thing, but that would mean violating some sort of copyright issues, I’m sure.

If robots could have babies, and one of these babies was retarded, and the retarded baby robot had a robot asshole which, instead of creating tiny, baby robot poop emitted mechanical words spoken in an uncaring and bored tone, this is what it would say. “Next in line please.” The retarded baby robot’s asshole would speak these words in the very same dull, slack-jawed fashion that Roman delivers them every freaking morning. Ok. Wow. Looks like I’ve got some issues with Roman.

and also, this one, about working at Starbucks. (It’s fall…don’t you miss the pumpkin spice latte just a little? Come on…I know it’s in you.)

I climbed onto the register and started taking orders with this big scowl on my face, pissy attitude at the ready, but it only lasted for about two customers. Before I knew it, I was having fun. I was joking with Hicks, singing 80′s classics, throwing faux-karate kicks and punches at his crotch and kidneys. The customers were in fantastic moods. Time was flying by. All of a sudden, I found that not only did I not mind being at work, I was actually enjoying being there. Holy crap, I didn’t know how spoiled we were. Do you remember when going to work wasn’t so much work? It was more like going to this clubhouse and playing with your friends.

He’s totally right. I miss it. But I would never go back, right? How else would I make everyone back at the ‘bux TOTALLY JEALOUS because I was invited to a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the newest elevated water storage tank in Etna Township. That’s right, boys. While you’re going down to the basement “doubled over, smacking your head on pipes and vents with bottles of vanilla syrup clenched between your knees,” be jealous of my bling bling free-tour-of-the-water-and-sewage-treatment-plant lifestyle.

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