We finished that and we went into our kitchen. I was on a mission to find the straight-edge spatula. I might add that the straight-edge spatula was missing from our kitchen. But I was looking and not finding it. But she was finding her equipment a lot easier than I was and she said "boy why don't you get up and help us. I
was helping her. I was getting custard cups. I exhaled, with a minor emphesis on the sigh. She said "Boy, you can sigh all you want, you ain't better than any of us. You know I hate smart asses like yourself" I wanted to say, "Well I hate self righteous bitchy black girls who think that they are above everyone else on the planet. Now shut up before I hit'chu upside yo' head with this serving tray, Bitch!" But I didn't. I'm just too nice. I went over to get ingredients, alone because she couldn't walk over there and help me, you know with the important jobs they had. You know, because standing around is very important, and cookies wouldn't taste the same if she didn't lean on the counter and glare and act put upon. I was doing the best that I could under the circumstances. Eventually, the Swedish Chef noticed I was alone and still doing ingredients. She asked her to come over and help me do them. She was almost tolerant doing that, but then reverted to her own bitchy self righteous roots as we were washing dishes. She thought I 'took too long' and 'wasn't helping' I asked her if she wanted to get her fat ass over here and do the job she signed up for. No I didn't. I just thought to myself, One day you will wake up in an ugly apartment, sleeping next to a manager at Hooter's and wonder what happened to your life. You won't see the world. You won't have made anything better. You are just a pathetic waste of space and are incapable of doing anything except wear hot pants and tank tops and serve hot wings to idiots who dine at the Indianapolis Hooter's. Because she won't leave the state. And you will wonder what day did your life go wrong. My opinion? The day you messed with me.
