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Drooling Mutant Fangirl's Weblog
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Friday, June 13, 2003
OMG, TIRED.
I was in the cafe for 3 1/2 hours today, plus opening. Good thing I was wearing my good shoes. Even so, I ache.
My penultimate customer was a fecking ass. I wanted to be nice to him, old guy in a hat from his ship, don't remember what one. But yeah, probably a WW2 veteran, or Korea, at least. So I'm gonna be as nice as I can.
But he's an ass.
He ordered a cappucino. We know what that is, right? A shot of espresso, topped with foam.
He comes up, and says to me "excuse me, this isn't full," or words to that effect. I gently explain to him that it's not SUPPOSED to be full. Our smallest cup is 12 oz, a single cappuchino is about 8 oz. "Did you give me some kind of special?" he asks. I repeat what I said before. He sits down, but then says, "this is too strong. I wanted a cuppucinno, this tastes like an espresso."
Well, gee whiz. It IS espresso. A 4 oz shot of espresso, topped with the same amout of foamed milk. That's what a capuccino IS! But I smile, and tell him that if he wants, I can steam some more milk for him and put it in. "Oh, no," he says. "I'll just drink this." With that irritiating "I'm-gonna-be-a-martyr-and-make-sure-you-know-it" tone of voice.
"No, it's no trouble," I say. But he continues his long-suffering routine. Grrrr!
If he ever comes back, I'll just ring him up a cappucino, make him a fecking latte, and save everyone the trouble.
5:27 PM
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Interesting dream last night.
I don't usually dream...or remember my dreams, as the case may be. But last night, I had a doozy. It was all over the map; some grand conspiracy with aliens, an SCA war, shopping, and breaking in to someone's house to change clothes. What the flippity hoo?
Most of the dream faded pretty quickly, but one image has stuck with me. I was talking to Sheila, when she started biting me in the backs of my ankles. Not gently, either. Eventually, though, the dream moved on. Still, this was the one lasting image.
It wasn't until I woke up that I "got" what the dream meant. That "biting the backs of my ankles" was pretty much the same as "nipping at my heels."
I think Sheila might be amused that my subconscious has adopted her like this, as a messenger to get off my butt. Maybe. I'll think have to think about telling her later.
10:32 AM
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Big changes. Moving to Port Hueneme. I like the place (even though it's significantly smaller than our current place) and it's a lot closer for my sweetie's commute. But I can't escape one fact: I HATE moving!
I'm in a kind of melancholy mood, now. Not in a bad way, really. In the mood to listen to some Tracy Chapman, except my CDs are buried under layers and layers of boxes.
Of course, moving puts the kibosh on my rewriting plans. Still, some progress can be made; I have a phone # to send along to Baen. I'm gonna make up a disk and give it to AJ to print out, since my fecking printer's being so irritating, as of late. I need to do SOMETHING about that, but I don't know what CAN be done. Yet another thingie to research.
11:22 PM
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