Thursday/Friday Damages

You may have noticed that I've been combining multiple days into a single post, hope you don't mind. I tend to be rather busy these days between working full-time and going to school full-time. Fun times, I know. But hang tight for the end of the month wrap up! I'm sure that will be sufficiently shocking to keep you reading :) Or at least you can be entertained by the panic it evokes in me.

Thursday

• $0

Friday 

• $28.60 - Hess (gas for the trip to RI)
• $0.85 - Pop Tart (breakfast from a vending machine, I think it's time to go grocery shopping)
• $4.78 - McDonald's Coffee (Don't judge me, I happen to like their coffee, it's delicious)

Funny little story about my trip to the gas station this morning. There I am, minding my own business, feeding Veruca so she and I can continue to pollute the atmosphere together, when I hear a commotion behind me. So of course I turn to see what the heck is going on, as any of you would. Apparently the gentleman (I use that term very loosely) at the kiosk was not impressed that they were out of his Marlboro Menthol 100's and was throwing quite a fit about it, especially when the clerk offered him the shorter version of his brand (I have no idea what you would call those...just regular cigarettes? I only know what 100's means b/c that's my parents' preferred cig length). Well, apparently the clerk also must have made some comment about cancer, I couldn't hear what he said due to the glass bullet proof glass between him and the outside world...well the gentleman, let's call him Bob really lost it...started screaming at the clerk about how he doesn't need to hear it from him and that "I don't got the canc-ah, do you got the canc-ah." I know, priceless. Bob then proceeded to bang on the glass demand for the clerks name so he could report him to the Better Business Bureau, etc., etc. At this point I was done pumping my gas and thought that it might be smart to get the hell out of there before Bob went completely postal.

I suppose it's little run ins like these that terrifies my father that I'm not living under a rock in my parents' back yard guarded by pit bulls (god knows having their dogs guard me would do me no good!). Sometimes it's fun to tell him these things just to watch him get all worked up, other times I know better. I should mention that this happened in Watertown not in Boston so at least he can't throw the "it's not safe living in the city" line at me.