Beez Neez
Actually the name of an Aussie beer, but makes the heading of today’s journal because a host of bees have decided to make my bedroom window into a Hilton. For some completely inexplicable reason, beehives give me some hardcore willies. As in, “I’m about to dry heave” willies. They look all desiccated so maybe it has something to do with my fear of rotting bodies (clearly this is in films; one doesn’t see a whole lot of rotting bodies laying around, even in Chicago). The bees don’t bother me. Sleeping near it doesn’t bother me. Only the sight of the honeycomb bothers me, though not when it’s in a jar. How great to have a completely irrational and ridiculous fear.
Officially , I leave the country on Sunday, July 11. If the US dollar could please starting being worth a lot more, that’d be great. Alan? Hear you’re up for job renewal. See what you can do.
I was poking around a bit on livejournal. Think I learned my lesson on that one. Some people (and probably me included) really don’t need to present their opinions to the world. Also, some people are obnoxious.
I move right from that thought to last night’s lesson in bad restaurant service. This waiter had clearly had experience in sales, seemingly used car sales. He had this nasal, grating voice and wouldn’t leave the table for more than five minutes at a time. Kept saying things like, “Are you still enjoying the paella, or shall I have it wrapped up? Which one of our deserts would you enjoy tonight?” I would have enjoyed not feeling him hovering next to me constantly. He clearly meant well, but perhaps hospitality is not for him. He also managed to spill a beer all over himself. I felt really bad for him because that’s happened to everyone in service, but I also made a noise once he left the table that can only be surmised as a snigger. I’m a bad person. But yeah, it was totally a snigger.
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