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Denny's, Disney, and Fire: halleregina Okay now that I've finally quit Denny's let me tell you guys about the bizarre fucking otherworld it is The music and the room temperature are controlled by corporate. Corporate plays a lot of pop covers of Disney princess songs I've never heard before. I now have a dance routine to the K-Pop sounding version of Let it Go. Our sign flickered fast and red and demonically for a week and the repairman said he couldn't find anything wrong with it. People did drug deals in, like, broad daylight in the middle of the parking lot multiple times a week. It's open 24/7. We had a backup generator none of us knew about until there was a massive storm one night and we looked out to see a tree knocked over and our lights the only thing on for miles. You could weather the apocalypse with no idea the apocalypse was even happening. Regular customers included: A man convinced the chemtrails are real who gave me six separate pieces of literature on the subject A little person named Kevin who told me "sometimes I call myself a dwarf when I'm feeling whimsical" An actual group of Neo-Nazis An actual Earth, Wind, and Fire cover band (they played for us) o Twins who came in separately on the same day and I thought they were one woman changing outfits rapidly for the longest time A Scottish landscaper who told us we "couldn't prove he doesn't know Simon Pegg" I have more these are just off the top of my head halleregina I can't believe I forgot two line cooks got into a really heated argument about whether Vin Diesel is bisexual or not I asked an elderly man if he wanted to use the AARP discount and he said "No, I'm not a socialist"
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Ass, Bad, and Children: zaynsamosa white person: eats chicken tikka masala once* i just... i feel so connected... to indian culture... I'm learning to speak islam.... check out my third eye..... chakra teaboot Every time see this. Every damn time. I'm immediately sucked back into my fuckin. Fuckin English lit class with Mr. Fuckass McShit. Mr. "Hit the gong to begin class", "Namaste, Children", "l wanna go backpacking in India to find my spiritual awakening and also my left burkinstock that I lost during a cedar sauna drum circle" ass bastard. "Do you want to share your poetry with the class to get in touch with your emotions" ass fucker. Mr. "Here's a photograph of a tribal shaman, describe him using nature words" asshole. Pretentious- ass, condescending motherfucker. "Do you want to tell us about your saddest memory?" "I dunno, sir. Are you giving me an option?" "No." "Then why are you asking" Every goddamn day. Fuck. "You seem tense." Oh, I seem tense? I seem tense. Well fuck, Professor Pillsbury, maybe l 'seem tense' because I walk into a room on five hours of sleep to the sound of a goddamn brass gong drilling through my brain and your seven- foot-nine, socks-and-sandals-wearing, patchouli- smelling ass immediately gravitates in my direction with some shit like "a tree......... Is a Poem" and I gotta sit here and politely tell you that No I'm Not Comfortable Telling The Class About A Time I Was Emotionally Vulnerable With A Loved One using words that sound like the way the color yellow smells. Maybe l don't wanna sit in a circle and hold hands with Brittney from Computer Sciences to "align our auras" or some shit Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. I swear to God, if I wanted to sing kumbaya' with a smelly old guy with gross facial hair who writes bad porn on the side, I'd go out to the parking lot and share a Hookah with Crazy Dan, the disgraced electrician. What, I don't wanna do an interpretive dance to represent the spiritual experience of eating Quinoa in a room full of ambivalent preteens and suddenly I'm the 'troubled youth' you need to Robin Williams "O Captain My Captain" your way into having a Paternal Bonding Moment powerful enough to Expand My Impressionable Young Mind and Turn My Life Around, you goddamn saint, you? Jesus Fucking Christ. You insufferable jackass. You're not "Enlightened", you rolled out of bed and ate half a pot brownie, wrote a sad song about a leaf, and strolled into class to ramble about your Spirit Animal for six hours straight before calling it a day. Holy Jesus goddamned Christ. Fucking Balls, sir. Holy Fucking Balls Source: zintersoldier #Teaboot 238,334 notes Sep 29th, 2018 a tree Is a Poem
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