People are always searching for good diets and tricks to lose weight. Well, I think I have found mine: the Work Pants Diet. My Chick-Fil-A pants just came in. They came in a size too small. When I expressed my worries to my co-workers, they assured me that my pants were just the right size, but I’m not really into the whole “I Stole My Pants From An Anorexic Dwarf” look. So, now my weight loss goal is to fit comfortably into my Chick-Fil-A pants. It’s a great diet plan, because whenever I am wearing the pants (all day, every day) I am constantly reminded of my mission.
*Watch This Transition*
Californians like rules, especially about the food service industry. Every “food handler” in California has to take a special course, and acquire a nifty certificate. A couple nights ago, I spent 2 hours learning stuff I already knew about proper hygiene, along with some facts I never needed to know about temperatures of food (“The Temperature Danger Zone,” doesn’t that sound like something from Schoolhouse Rock?). Before, you get too nervous, I passed with flying colors:
The main thing this course did, apart from making me waste time and money, was shatter my faith in American society.
This illustration indicates bloody diarrhea with a red arrow away from her butt, so that there is no confusion.
Wow, I’m glad they told me not to wash my hands in the dirty mop water.
BUT ABOVE ALL:
The commentator literally said, “Picking your nose is rarely appropriate, especially in public.”
There was even a question on the test about picking your nose. Really? I don’t think I need a 2 hour course in order to know not to pick my nose while in public. working. with food. This is what is wrong with America.
Speaking of patriotism, yesterday was the 4th of July (incase you hadn’t noticed). I celebrated by:
1. Helping with the free bible booth in the street fair—I didn’t actually give any bibles away, but I did test my bible IQ on the board. I don’t want to tell you my score.
2. Registering to vote—I got the democrats at the democrat booth to help me. It was a little awkward telling them my party affiliation.
3. Selling chicken to all the people too communist to barbecue—One customer asked me what I was doing after work. When I told him I was going to bible class, he scoffed and questioned, “Why? So you can learn how to pray?”
4. Attending bible class—Class was, in fact, not a lesson on how to pray, but a lengthy debriefing on the success of the aforementioned bible booth. It was during said debriefing that my mom texted me and said “I wish I were a pirate so that I could talk like one.” When I asked what on earth she was talking about, she texted back, “AAAARG.”
5. Searching all over town for a fireworks observation station—Cooper did not want to watch fireworks, but when she realized Barnes and Noble was closed, he said we could go watch the fireworks. I took a wrong turn that was actually a right turn, and we ended up catching the “finale.”
6. Throwing poppers in the street, with my hood rats—At the tender age of 16, Maris wasn’t allowed to buy the poppers. I had to help her stick it to the man, by using my age to purchase the explosives. I wrote a haiku for you. I like to call it “Patriotic Pyrotechnics.”Stick It To The ManMaris And I Buy PoppersPop Pop Pop Pop Pop