will it make it easier on you now you got someone to blame?

andy looks at me, fish and stuffing trailing off of the counter as he waves his arms around, gesticulating madly with every work he's saying.

"she pretends to be nice, but really, she's just a bitch!" he dissolves into mumbles, laughing and talking. even me, the queen of hysterics, has problems deciphering what exactly he's saying when he gets going.

this is after heather has schleped into the shop in her night wear, complained about her really sore wrist and then that she had to get up super early this morning.

please note that she offered to do this. the getting up early part i mean. the sore wrist is just a hazard of pulling out pin bones.

while she's walking around and eyeing my every move, i can hardly restrain myself from saying something. "maybe about her wearing her slippers in the fish shop??" pipes up the vox. "ooooh, or maybe about her hair? or maybe something more low, mean maybe?" however, since that is stooping to her level, i simply waited until she left to really say anything.

i turn to andy. "suck it up princess!" rolls forth from my mouth in dulcet tones before i can stop it.

the fish and the stuffing start sliding.

gingerbread coffin

"... and of course there will be silk..wait, did candice say that the bedding was cotton? maybe i'll have lobster next time i go out for dinner. we're getting low on marble cheese, i'll have to remember to mention that to mom. tom thinks i flash people to sell fish. what the hell is unobtanium anyways, and why can't i call it indestructium and i just really want some chocolate. harry potter and larry underwood together? hahah, that's a real joke but somehow i kept them straight. ewan mcgregor. i'd like to make some cookies..."

a day in the life.

the spies came out of the water

halfway across the front of the theatre, i get hysterical.

last night, a what-turned-into-a giant group of people went to see van helsing. we climbed up to the back of the theatre, got evil looks from the older persons and proceeded to talk loudly and make obscene comments until the lights dimmed.

and then...what a movie.

before the theatres were converted, melissa and i went to see planet of the apes because sadly, we had both seen the original and wanted to see the remake. when it was over, we staggered out of the theatre, feeling bereft and as if we had been pillaged.

"i want my eight dollars back!" i cried. and then: "hell, i want my three hours back!"

it's been a long standing movie of comparasion since then. the worst of the worst. yet van helsing almost gave it a run for its money.

key word there being almost. because really, i'd rather stare at hugh jackman than marky mark, when those are the only choices presented.

although hugh never did have a singing career now did he?

there is a silence that comes to a house where no one can sleep

yesterday was wonderful. yesterday was glorious. yesterday, i had no problems....

"umm..hello paul mccartney ripoff!" caught between bad fake coughs, courtsey of the vox.

ok, ok. it was wonderful and good until heather came to work. well, not really to work. she shuffles in the back door in her pajamas and slippers and wanders around looking lost while me and andy and mom are processing fish as fast as we bloody well can. when she finally leaves, and tom right after her my mom flips the bird in her general direction.

"does she think that's cute?" she asks me, referring to heather's pajamas. "maybe when she was a little kid...but now that's just fucking tacky."

and people wonder why i'm blunt sometimes.

*draws a blank*

pick up fish. grasp picker in thumb and fore-finger. remove bones from fillet. repeat as often as necessary, stopping only to answer phone and serve customers. Please note that 'as often as necessary' really means indefinately because there is always mroe fish to be processed.

"moan, bitch...moan moan crab crab crabiity-crab..." yeah, sometimes it's cool to have a vox that makes fun of you.

ok, so actually, my job isn't hard at all and i get paid way more than i should for the menial task that is labelled as work in my life. but then i remember my co-workers, those lovely people from small towns who say things like purt-near and youse guys and then talk about how fantastic "reality" t.v. is.

"what if we slapped them with a big assed fillet of splake?"

won't be surprised if i do.

she cut your hair

i cleaned my room again last night.

tom told me once that he didn't miss his aunt joan because my room resembled hers in that there really wasn't any floor at all, just stuff and clothes and random piles everywhere.

"not no more sukaaaaaah!" the vox will attest to the fact that this is no longer true. when i came home, i went through everything, even the drawer of junk in my dresser.

and yes, there is such a thing as a floor in my room.

and you can tell everybody that this is your song

"you fucking weiner."

the vox, you know. this is when i am trying to pick up our milk jug to pour myself a glass of sweet cow juice to down some vitamins with, and find myself unable to life the jug at all. this is a direct result of picking too much fish, too fast and too soon. but i'll be damned if i don't secretly love it.

part of it is my new co-worker andy. and no, it's not what you're thinking.

today he rolled in around nine thirty, the same time as me, hungover from staying out till four am. my excuse was simply over sleeping and waking up to this amazing opera. andy's was that he and his buddy hit the big o dot s dot last night, and ended up up at smugglers. standing in the corner, surrounded by dead fish carcasses and looking greener than the fish bins outside, he starts telling tom and i about his evening.

"we went upstairs y'know?" insert insane laughing here. "there were..." his hand waves around, fish scales flying through the air "dancers. is that what you'd call them?" a sly grin breaks across his face as he begins to describe them. "that one girl, she had a nice..eeehm..." sidelong glance at me "..a nice bum. and small tits!"

all followed by gales of laughter, as he tells us that he's never been up that late before, and that his girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiance waited up the entire night for him. it's been so long since people played and laughed in there, that it seems almost crass and out of place somehow. until i remind myself that that's the way things are supposed to be.

things got even better when andy tells me that he'd like to listen to the moulin rouge soundtrack. and when he started singing- well!

it's worth a weiner hand to be surrounded by pure unadulterated joy once more.