...at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, where I work now:
1) I'm stuffed up with grass pollen, but I go to take out some buffalo wings and WHOA, the smell coming off them just clears me up.
2) The whiteboard in the "server alley" where section assignments are written as well as notes and lists of stuff that we need to buy has a mention that we're out of HAND PAPER TOWELS, only the way it's written, it looks like HAND PAPI TOWELS, so I take various people over to it and point to it and am like, "Who's papi?"
"That's [first name of the one (young) (taller) (macho) (Guatemalan) cook]," says the one (younger) (plumpish) (hair streak-dyed) (mid-Southern) waitress, and "Here, papi," she's like, making a gesture like she's handing him towels.
3) At drinks after work for the birthday of the one (younger) (plumpish) (hair streak-dyed) (mid-Southern) waitress, our one (younger) (bearded) (vaguely Jewish) (local) coworker has to get going soon because he has to go see his girlfriend, who just got back from study abroad in (Italy), and we ask about that, and it turns out that as part of her graphic design curriculum she was even making advertising for this one surgical history museum there, which she actually found quite stomach-churning, since she had to look at all these old anatomical models and specimens and stuff.
"And that's why why they call it graphic design," I'm like.
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