Oh joy

Recipe for a lovely shift at work:

1. Take one slightly hungry, preoccupied adult store employee.
2. Add a large Rockstar (or two).
3. Apply to several multi-stage projects.
4. Then fold in a generous dollop of clueless knuckle-draggers who need such difficult concepts such as what an arcade is or where the movies might be explained, in detail.
5. Bring to a full boil with a handful of paranoid gits who behave like you just lodged a cattle prod firmly up their arse and sodomized their dear departed grandmother when asked if one might be able to help them find something.
6. Garnish liberally with passive-aggressive jibes from previous paranoid gits.

Yield: One snarling, vicious employee lurking behind a moderately blank expression torn between hoping to finish their day without one more belligerent fuckwad "expressing their opinions" and the bloodthirsty wish one will.

I don't know who or what has been pissing into the collective area's corn flakes, but it seems like every customer in the last few days is suffering a biblical plague of nettle dipped hemorrhoids.

I am way too pretty for this shit.