Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Monday Blogday- a reflection given a day later.

Mondays are generally when blog-master Damian likes to 'lay it down.' I know this not because I actually read the blogs, oh no. I know this because he composes his brilliant (I hope) prose at the vegan cafe/bakery at which I work (I'm trying to avoid shameless advertising, but you'll find said bakery on the corner of S.E. 12th and Stark, as well as on the back of our beloved Motordome jerseys). Anyways, yesterday was Monday. Blogday. And who should saunter in, but my treasured roommate Bobby. We exchanged pleasantries such as- "Oh, hello! How are you? Did you sleep well last night?" and "I'm fantastic! I slept like a baby! Did you notice that I freshened up the toilet?" Darling Bobby also brought fantastic news- Damian and Hazel were expected shortly. Sure enough, just as Bob-o selected their table, Hazel and Damian waltzed into to cafe completing the trifecta of terrific. After they ordered their delicious, gourmet americanos and snacks, they took a seat, opened their computers/reading materials and got down to business...whatever that means. I didn't get a chance to chat with my chums during their stay because, well, I let my espresso talk for me...and frankly I was at work and don't really have time for tomfoolery or truancy...like, I totally wish I could hang out and write brilliant blogs, then maybe do a sudoku and hang out some more till I wanted to go on a ride in the West Hills, but I can't cuz I gotta make fucking lattes and cappuccinos, alright? uh. Sadly my comrades eventually left to continue their journey to the weekend by way of the time clock. I waved them off, one by one, wishing them well and hoping the rain would hold out for their sakes. As I was busing the tables (usually something I don't have to do because it's a 'buss your own table' type of establishment) I noticed that young Bobby had neglected to clear his section of the table. I made a mental note to rib him about it in the evening, then proceeded to clear the table. I figured that it was probably his sweet and loving way of saying "Fuck you Kim! You NEVER do your dishes at home!"
So, I decided a haiku was in order...
Bobby Birk you turd.
How could you leave your dishes?
I cry tears of Joy©.


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