Life is like a cage full of parakeets - vibrant, noisy and shit-infested.
I made that little analogy up today as I looked at the parakeet cages while on break. I don't browse through the store often because I have my smock on and people see that I work there, so they approach me with obscure questions and I'm like, "Uh, durrr, hold on let me find out for you..." and I'm talking obscure questions, like "Do you know where I can find vitamin drops that you put in birds' water?" "Do you know what aisle has the medicated dogfood?" Yes, medicated dogfood. I have no idea. I have off tomorrow! Actually, you know, I've been talking as if work is a living hell, and it really isn't. I like giving baths to dogs. There are a lot of poodles and shih tzus that come in to be groomed, and some customers even want bows put in their hair (shih tzus). This lady came in a few days ago, and apparently she decided to shave her own dog, herself. Well she ended up only shaving part of the dog because he started looking like shit, so then she decided to take him to be groomed, and asked the dog groomers to even out his fur. This dog was a pug, and she brought her other pug because she figured they might as well BOTH look rediculous. Today, I was blowdrying a shih tzu and she defacated all over the grooming table. It was truly lovely. I also got bitched out by some lady on the phone who called to schedule an appointment for Sunday, and she was pissed because the only available time we had was 11:00, and she was like, "I'll be in church at that time!" What a bitch, she can't do without her weekly Jesus fix just this once? No, I didn't say that to her. I just think stuff in my head. Like when some idiot bitch called, knowing it's called a GROOMING SALON, and asked, "Do ya'll groom dogs?" I felt like saying, "No dumbass, we only groom African Dormice." My sarcasm can be intoxicating sometimes, even to myself.