Regression.
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
As mentioned previously, one of my molars has broken, and I've now got a thumbnail-sized ulcer/blister on my tongue. This has become infected, says the doctor. Believe me, it fucking hurts enough for me to agree. I can't speak much. For many, this is a good thing. When I do speak, I'm one half-step away from being identified as the missing link.
However, I'm still working. That's right, bitch - I'm hardcore.
(Although codeine is playing a minor role in my performance.)
Bilbo showed up last night - for five minutes, wearing a fucking eyepatch. This is to support one of his latest lies, that he got involved in a big scrap down the town on the weekend. Needless to say, he didn't bother working. Just showed up to let us all see his homegrown attempt at convincing us he'd been to the hospital and they'd told him he shouldn't work.
Popeye has quit - I'm not sure I mentioned it, but he hadn't turned up for ten days in a row. So, to be honest, it was kind of coming.
What this means is that we've all come full-circle, and are back to the exciting, heady days of April, where only really three of us can be relied upon to turn up for their shift, and everybody else is a bit of an x-factor.
What this means for me is more money, or I quit.
posted by Sheamus @ 4:00 pm
