I say that at least half a dozen times a day. Today it hit me when I was leaning against the front counter talking to Vicki while eating a piece of birthday cake a little girl had given me, blue messed up frosting all in my teeth. One of our regulars, George, sat across from us in one of our big yellow chairs and tried to teach us dirty phrases in German. Earlier, a little five year old boy looked up at me and said “you’re really nice, you know?” after I popped popcorn for him. A group having a family reunion of sorts bought us pizza. Vicki and I sang songs from the Supremes and waltzed behind the counter. There were well mannered motorcyclists, women spilling out of their bikinis, men talking about lime Jell-O sex, drunk brides, and so much more.
Man, I love my job.
p.s.
... where'd therubble go? Why am I not seeing any entries?
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