Work sucked this weekend...as usual. I was injured when I was assisting moving a 400 lb plus asshole who attempted to bite anyone who tried to help. I don't know if he was meaning harm us, or if he was trying to eat us, but I hurt my arm all the same. I filled out an incident report, and will probably have to go see Occupational Health, which ranks right up there with getting a colposcopy or listening to Paris Hilton's album.
Paul (ND!) and I went out to dinner tonight to Cinzetti's. I'd been there once or twice, many years ago. I remember being there and making mention about the buffet in front of an employee, who sniffed, "We are not a buffet. We are an Italian Market". Apparently, Johnson County has issues with the buffet label.
I don't care what they say. If you have an open feeding trough and people pay a flat rate to graze there, it's a buffet. You can dress it up as much as you want to make it look like a quaint little market place in some charming Italian town, but it's still a buffet. I should have tested this whole market thing by trying to buy some of the cheap plastic tomatoes from a fake cart.
As I was sitting there, munching on something I acquired from the market, this ginormous lady came in with her family. I'm not going to dog on how big she was, but let's stop for a moment to reflect on what she was wearing: beige pants that were two sizes two small and revealed her buttcrack when she sat down, a flimsy spaghetti strap shirt that was stretched to the point her boob almost fell out of the side when she went from sitting to standing position, and her bra with industrial strength straps glaring out from under the shirt. I blanched. Paul followed my gaze and smirked. He wasn't concerned, his back was to her. Meanwhile, I get birds eye view of the Eternal Buttcrack to go with my crepe.
After dinner, we wander over to Borders and set up camp in the bargain books section. Call me odd, but I feel sorry for the bargain books. Books that no one wanted and are marked down, left to sit on the shelf until some cheapass like me comes along looking for another book to add to the bathroom library. It's not their fault, those books that couldn't make the cut to full retail price. Blame it on their shitty authors who only were lucky enough to get their book published because their parents owned the publishing company. I always try to do my part so unwanted books can have a happy home.
Imagine what would happen if I went to an animal shelter.
I found another book for the bathroom library, not to mention a bible on BBQ grilling. We paid for our purchases and went our separate ways. Another night out, and I still go home alone.
My brother hasn't moved in yet. If ever were a procrastinator, it would be him. He can put off deciding what to put off. Thankfully, I got his room painted a lovely blue courtesy of Eddie Bauer. I hung a set of khaki curtains only to realize that I hung to curtain rod too low and the curtains were too long. Never to be deterred, I put the curtains in the washer and shrunk the piss out of them with hot water. They hang perfectly now. A matching set of bedding for the room and I will have a guest room that any soccer mom would be happy to sleep off their hangovers in. Mike doesn't care about colors and decor. He's just happy he gets his own room and I am not making him sleep in the basement.
At any rate, he says he's moving in tomorrow and tomorrow night, I will have an orientation to the daily operations of Heather's House, which will include exciting seminars such as:
How to Operate the Washer Without Flooding the Garage
The Toilet Seat: It Can Go Down! Also paired with The Toilet: It's Lower Than You Think
The Dishwasher: It's Not Just for Looks
Surviving With Standard Satellite Channels
If You Break It, You're Sister is Going to Kick Your Ass
The Thermostat: Touch it and Die
and most importantly Please Don't Burn Down My House
He starts his first day of work on Wednesday. Eight days of orientation then he starts working night shift, which works out great because he will have to sleep during the day, the same as I do. Mike is a good kid, and I'm not too concerned about him staying with me. He's fun to have around, even though I'm fairly certain his cooking prowess is limited to hot dogs and peanut butter sandwiches. I'm happy he'll be here because I'll be more inclined to cook if someone else is there. I eat out way too much. Besides, I need to put to use that new cook book I just rescued from the bookstore.