SQUAMATE REPTILES

Yesterday I may have suggested that Jeff was so full of it that some people were anxiously waiting for him to lose control of his bowels so we wouldn't have to listen to it always coming out of his mouth. I still don't know who had set him off, but he went on for nearly two hours, spewing MAGA drivel in a persisten irritating whine. Today he remained mercifully quiet; he wouldn't have been able to get a word in edgeways anyhow over the drunkenness at full volume. Whines don't carry over loud obscenities.

Generally speaking I disapprove of daytime alcohol consumption.
Absolutely nothing has changed about that.
I still do.

Jeff didn't stay long today. Too much going on.

The last two days have been exceptionally dysfunctional. Things are wrong, very wrong, with this world when I am the sanest person in the building. Totally bad aura, karma, or vibes. Something. It's like a Vegas strip hotel with snakes moving in the carpet, and lizards having cocktails. Flashbacks to Foar and Loathing, which I originally saw with German dubbing.


"Hier können wir nicht anhalten, das ist Fledermausland!"


Giant vampire bats crawling around under the tables that must be firmly whacked with a ruler, like disobedient Catholic school kids tormenting a bald guy.
But not as exciting as that. Extrovert dullness.

At the end of a shift I am always happy to leave Marin County. Rabid Karens roam there. They are often married to the lizards, which funds their hot tub and chablis lifestyles, but means they have to endure scaly skin and eyeball licking.
And characterist diapsid breath.


Most kids in Marin are born with an egg tooth.
It's an evolutionary adaptation.



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