I work as a Barista at a coffee stand right next to the Home Depot. We are not affiliated or employed with the Home Depot, but our stand is located right outside. Anyway, I get some incredibly bizarre people coming up to order coffee and have had some weird experiences at the stand that I thought I would share. The other day I had this Mexican man who didn't say much except pointing at the piece of coffee cake in the display and grunting. So I handed him his piece of coffee cake and he walked off towards the picnic table. Except he didn't eat the coffee cake. The fucking guy pulls it out and crumbles it on the table for the fucking birds.
A word about these little birds that are always outside of the coffee stand. They are stupid and annoying chickadees, and are abnormally porky. They are so fat from all the customers thinking how adorable it is that the birds will come and sit next to you with their beaks open and begging for food. Since when do birds beg for food? Then all the customers give them pieces of their pastries and hot dogs and they fly off. The birds will just loiter outside of my coffee stand and chirp their obese brains out and will occasionally fly inside the stand to piss me off. Bastards.
Anyway about the Mexican man, he crumbles the cake and walks inside the Home Depot. Now I'm pissed off because he just bought this pastry and wasted it on the fucking blubber birds. So I reluctantly go back to reading my magazine and about an hour later he comes out of the store. Here's the shocker, the guy picks up what is left of the coffee cake crumbs and puts it back in his little bag and starts eating the remains and walks off to his pick up truck. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?
There isn't a bathroom in the coffee stand so I have to venture through the monstrosity of a store that Home Depot is. This place is fucking huge. But it's nice because I usually get to say hello to the cool kids that work at the HD and it's a nice little break for me. I get into the bathroom and immediately go to the second stall. I have a weird thing about bathrooms, I usually try and get the second stall. Not the first, the second. The first is usually occupied and the third or others are either out of paper or someone doesn't know how to flush. While I'm in the bathroom, another woman comes into the stall on my left. You know that awkward point when you're in the bathroom with someone else and you kinda glance down either to see what shoes they're wearing or just stare at the wall next to you, praying that some awful and awkward bodily function doesn't accidentally come out? Or hoping that if you do happen to make a weird noise, you pray to god that you get out of the bathroom first so that they don't see you?
Well this woman that plopped her lard ass (I saw her cankles) in the stall next to me, exploded. I felt my stall rattle. After the first bomb, I could tell this woman was not holding back, nor was she stopping anytime soon. I'm not sure if she knew that there was another person in the bathroom with her at the time, or if she just wanted to announce her presence. I felt stuck, I couldn't move. I didn't know if I should wait until the bombing had ceased or make a run for it. I think she started clutching the stall walls on either side of her because I heard a smack right next to my head. All I had wanted to do was take a quick break from work and go to the restroom. But fucking Hiroshima had to make a direct hit at the Home Depot Women's Bathroom. It must have been the longest minute of my life until I realized that I couldn't take it any longer. It would only be a matter of time before the fumes would reach me. I made a really loud point of getting out of the stall and coughing awkwardly and washing my hands. The bombing came to a quick halt, and I sprinted out of the bathroom like a gazelle.
Sorry that was such an atrocious story, but I had to tell someone. It was too juicy to pass up.
One of the great things that I love about my job is the people watching. The types of people that come to shop at the Home Depot is insane. You have your average middle class families, the Mexican workers that hang out on the corner waiting to be picked up by contractors, adorable gay couples, women who insist on wearing platform heels, and of course, the occasional crackheads.
I had a transsexual come up to the stand yesterday. She had on this great white business suit and these enormous heels. Props to her for walking in them. And she had an ass bigger than mine, I was obvi hella jell.
Since I usually am working during the midday, I can never enjoy the nice and rare weather that Seattle is experiencing, so I signed up for a two week tanning package. My mother always warns me about the dangers of tanning beds and UV rays and I always tell her that I'll be okay. She's also worried about my drinking too...maybe it's time to listen up. Now I normally don't tan indoors often at all for two reasons. One, it hurts my budget, and interferes with my alcohol purchases. Two, I have a fear that I'm going to somehow get locked in the cheap plastic tanning bed and burn like a fried piece of chicken like in Final Destination 3.
Although I know that scene in the movie is absolutely horrifying and hearing their skin sizzle like eggs being fried sunny side up, this song always pops in my head when I'm either thinking about this scene, or I'm tanning.
I know the song is talking about Kia's swag and shit, but I always thinking about burning to a crisp. Like the bitches in Final Destination. Or whenever I forget to put on SPF. WHOMP.
Thanks for reading, my little marshmallow peeps. You guys are "as bestest" (NIKKI MINAJ)
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