June 14, 2002
neverendingworkday
Why is it that the closer it get to the time when I can clock out and go home, the longer every second, minute, hour seems to stretch?
I added a counter to my diary.. this means that you all have to visit this site often so that I may get a false sense of self-importance. This is necessary, you know.
In other news, this lady (and I use the term very loosely) and her daughter came in a few minutes ago and asked if they could go through our trash bins for scrap metal. When I saw them walk through the door I swear I pinched myself because I thought I had fallen asleep out of sheer boredom and woken up on the set of Jerry Springer.
The mother was dressed in a lime green bikini top with putrid looking hot pink flowers on it, boxer shorts and flip flops. Her hair was dirty blond except for two inches near the top that were dark brown. Her skin was wrinkled and leathery from too much tanning, and there was a gap in between her two front teeth (one of which was chipped) big enough to stick a pen through.
The daughter is five times my size. I kid you not this girl weighs at least 250 lbs. This wouldn�t be a big deal if she hadn�t been wearing jean shorts so short that they looked more like underwear and a halter top. Did I mention she was like fourteen? Ugh.
Apparently the husband was too busy watching television to come ask for scrap metal himself. You think I�m making this up don�t you? I wish I was. Ick.
By the way, this is my second entry today, so keep reading. ;)
5:00 p.m.