Work Shmerk.

Well, another day another dollar.
At my work, we currently have a guy called James learning the ropes so we can call him in when I want to get away for the weekend, or when Jen has a Melbourne booty call to attend to.
At the moment though, it pretty much means that i sit around doing sweet fanny adams while i make HIM do everything... it's all in his best interests of course. I mean, milkshake making is an art. You cant just teach that shit. You have to get down on your hands and knees and make the damned thing. And when the milkshake kicks your arse, you just have to wipe the blood off your face and keep on plugging. Thats the way i learnt, thats the way my fore-fathers learnt (probably), and damn it, thats the way this kids going to learn. It all pays off when you sit down in front of that perfect milkshake, that god amongst drinks.

My mum came into work before to say hi and invite me over for tea. Now, i was planning on going to the gym tonight, so because i was humming and hahing over this, she got cranky and started laying on the guilt. I dont know whether you've experienced a mum's guilt trip, but they truly suck arse. So she almost had the waterworks turned on ("Well Jase... come if you want to. I really don't care..") before i caved in. I'll just do some weights at home i guess. I mean, hell, why the guilt though? I'm just trying to get fit! is it such a dang crime?. Plus, and i'll be honest with you, there are one or two fine young ladies that also populate this particular gym, so it really is quite a sacrifice on my behalf.

I must be off to teach young James the noble art of "cleaning that funky bin in the toilet that people keep missing with their paper towels". Or maybe i'll just TELL him to clean said funky bin. I sure as hell dont wanna touch it if i don't have to!
He'll love it, im sure.
-j