…of my one (eccentric) (blonde) (semi-manger) coworker at the (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, where I work now:
Growing up back at her parents’ restaurant, she discovered that the bar nozzle for sodas had a short lag-time when the pop syrup was coming out but before the carbonated water kicked in, and so she’d tap the button repeatedly whenever she wanted a soda, and it was her just like drinking pure sugar water at eight years old without her parents having any idea that was going on, and she did that shit like all the time.
. . .
(. . .)
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