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.