I think I've run out of things to say again. I went through a very brief phase of mild intelligence and productivity and I've hit a wall once more. I've been scribbling lots of secrets in my notebook but they're far too 'out there' to put on here. It'd break the internet. I guess I should say that if anyone is even reading this, you should get a ticket for the Chuck Ragan show if you haven't already. Don't be a dick, it's going to be amazing. One thing I did want to broadcast to the world is that I don't get paid anywhere near enough to see my supervisor in her underwear. I'm moving house very soon. YEAH!
Friday, 12 March 2010
I don't know how to sing.
'Slacking' isn't the word. The weather's been beautiful and I think I've lost my mind a little preaching the arrival of summer like it's the second coming. I've worked a lot more than usual this week which is good because I need the money to move house but frustrating when the sun's out and all you want to do is get out and play. A work experience girl, Katy, has been in all week. She's fifteen and refreshingly naïve. She's been learning lots about products and the way the shop works so I thought being the second youngest and undoubtedly the most streetwise badass in the shop, I should give her a few life lessons. We talked a lot about drugs. It's truly terrifying what people think is a good idea these days. I took particular delight in seeing her terrified little face when I related some truly awful drug mishaps, most of which I think I made up, but whatever. It scared the shit out of her. Good.