Yesterday was the last day Kent worked at YFO, my previous place of employment. He’s been working there for ten years, so this is an era of sorts that is coming to an end. A bit melancholy, but he’s moving onto other pastures and will do fine, I’m sure. After playing a bit of pool, during which Mano handed me my ass on a plate, we schlepped over to O’learys for dinner.
O’learys is a sports bar, not a kind of locales that I usually frequent; and for a good reason – it’s full of loud men screaming at tv screens. The food shouldn’t go unmentioned either. In our company of eight, two vomited afterwards; not because of food poisoning, but because their dinners consisted of so much cheese and grease that their stomachs kicked the food in the nuts and threw it out the front door. I’ve always had a rather spartan view of my own needs, so the largest vegan hurdle is other peoples’ look of pained sympathy when the salad sans everything comes in. This is why I love going to Kellys.
Because my mom told me to, I got my teeth salt-blasted. My mouth is bleeding and I can hardly taste anything, but look at that shine:
I am not certain that I made the right decision at the age of thirteen when I refused retainers; I like crooked teeth, but they are a bitch to keep clean, not to mention expensive when done in this fashion.
And in the ongoing saga to make you accept alien porn as a reasonalble turn-on: Austrian pinup superheroins – www.beesign.at
