snooooooooooow
Woohoo, it snowed last night!! Then it all melted by the time i left work. Pah! I hate Britain. We don't get any decent snow, especially where i live, it's all namby pamby little flakes. Last night yomped down motherfucker flakes, hence why i let myself get excited at the prospect of snowman buliding!! Waste of my energy, all that excitement!
The cat tried catching snowflakes through the window and couldn't quite work out why he wasn't getting snow on his paws. Duh!!
Since the pubs have now got late licences (at landlords disrection might i add), people think that they can hang around until the bar staff leave. Last night, we closed at 11.00pm cos it was Monday and Monday sucks. We still had people sat there at 11.55pm. I finish at 12.00am. I was like, look, go home, i need to clean your table and they were like, but we have 5 minutes left. NO YOU FUCKING DON'T ASSHOLES!! (read: Drinking up was to 11.20pm sir, you now have to leave) It galls me to be nice sometimes.
One of the regulars spoke about the late George Best last night. He told me that George didn't die of liver failure, but of a broken heart. Me being the guillible bitch that i am said really??, what did he die of then?? The bloke then said, well, the day before he died, the pubs were granted 24 hour drinking licences and he couldn't get out of bed to go to one.
Oh ha fucking ha! I won't bore the knickers off you with my opinions on Georgie. I think the whole of Britain is thinking what i'm thinking!
The cat tried catching snowflakes through the window and couldn't quite work out why he wasn't getting snow on his paws. Duh!!
Since the pubs have now got late licences (at landlords disrection might i add), people think that they can hang around until the bar staff leave. Last night, we closed at 11.00pm cos it was Monday and Monday sucks. We still had people sat there at 11.55pm. I finish at 12.00am. I was like, look, go home, i need to clean your table and they were like, but we have 5 minutes left. NO YOU FUCKING DON'T ASSHOLES!! (read: Drinking up was to 11.20pm sir, you now have to leave) It galls me to be nice sometimes.
One of the regulars spoke about the late George Best last night. He told me that George didn't die of liver failure, but of a broken heart. Me being the guillible bitch that i am said really??, what did he die of then?? The bloke then said, well, the day before he died, the pubs were granted 24 hour drinking licences and he couldn't get out of bed to go to one.
Oh ha fucking ha! I won't bore the knickers off you with my opinions on Georgie. I think the whole of Britain is thinking what i'm thinking!
posted by LMPP at 9:21 AM
