'Doughnut', or 'donut'? You decide...
You are now reading the blog of Wally World's latest "doughnut guy". It's actually a decent gig. My supervisor is a really cool guy, and my doughnut co-conspirator(s) are all upbeat and quirky. The shift is from 4am to 1pm, but before you say "ouch", it's not that bad. By the time I get off, I have the whole afternoon to myself. It's 32 hours a week with 8 hour shifts which leaves me with three days off per week.
Aside from lulling myself to sleep at 7 or 8 at night with various combinations of melatonin, a dose of my flexeril, or the big silver sleeping pill (a can of Steel Reserve), getting up that early isn't nearly as painful as it would seem. Getting up at 5 when I worked for Tim Hortons was far more painful because I was tempted to stay up later. Admittedly, the first day I came home and pretty much passed out upright in a chair, but this morning I woke up all bright-eyed and bushy tailed with Dark Haired Girl. Her alarm is set at 6:30 on work/school days, and normally on days off I barely notice anybody has stirred.
Well, aside from when her alarm goes off. It's a clock radio set at full volume, and it's loud enough to wake not only Dark Haired Girl, but also at least half of the residents of the Sugar Grove Road cemetery. Frankly, I'm scared to death of it. Often, I'll wake up just minutes before it's set to go off, and watch nervously as the minutes tick down to detonation.
ANYHOO, back to the job. It's laid back, nobody bugs you, and you get to be creative with the icing and decoration. Turns out I'm handy at piping icing. Yesterday (which was my first morning "flying solo"), my boss reviewed my doughnuts in the case and told me that he's had people working doughnuts for months that didn't look as good as mine.
I pointed at my belly and asked him "Do I look like the kinda brother who takes doughnuts lightly?" Truth be told, I really don't care for them... but it made a good laugh.
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Liz wants me to come work for her studio. I guess things are really taking off for her, and she needs somebody to do sales appointments and answer phones while she's off shooting. Basically, she needs a secretary, and now my afternoons are free (plus three days a week off) to go work for her too. Plus, if her latest senior marketing ploy succeeds, she'll need another shooter. Hope for photography is not lost! Plus, it'd be cool as hell to work for her.
She's getting married this summer. I promised to her that I wouldn't bring my camera and be that annoying guy who bugs everyone (and the hired photographer), but c'mon, you know me. I am so bringing at least a point-and-shoot. ;-)
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You know, the news media needs to stop using the word 'blasted' when politicians criticize each other... unless it actually comes down to some good old-skool congressional fist shaking and deep chest bellowing on C-SPAN, or straight up fisticuffs. 'Blast' is too extreme, and its overuse is sucking the intensity out of the word. When I think of a BLAST!, I think of those guys that demolish skyscrapers, mines that obliterate mountainsides in one TNT swoop, Dark Haired Girl's alarm clock, or footage of that burning rocket fuel factory in Nevada that explodes like an atomic bomb.
What I don't think of is some redneck republican's anemic little two-line statement released to CNN expressing disagreement with Obama. That just does not a blast make.
Aside from lulling myself to sleep at 7 or 8 at night with various combinations of melatonin, a dose of my flexeril, or the big silver sleeping pill (a can of Steel Reserve), getting up that early isn't nearly as painful as it would seem. Getting up at 5 when I worked for Tim Hortons was far more painful because I was tempted to stay up later. Admittedly, the first day I came home and pretty much passed out upright in a chair, but this morning I woke up all bright-eyed and bushy tailed with Dark Haired Girl. Her alarm is set at 6:30 on work/school days, and normally on days off I barely notice anybody has stirred.
Well, aside from when her alarm goes off. It's a clock radio set at full volume, and it's loud enough to wake not only Dark Haired Girl, but also at least half of the residents of the Sugar Grove Road cemetery. Frankly, I'm scared to death of it. Often, I'll wake up just minutes before it's set to go off, and watch nervously as the minutes tick down to detonation.
ANYHOO, back to the job. It's laid back, nobody bugs you, and you get to be creative with the icing and decoration. Turns out I'm handy at piping icing. Yesterday (which was my first morning "flying solo"), my boss reviewed my doughnuts in the case and told me that he's had people working doughnuts for months that didn't look as good as mine.
I pointed at my belly and asked him "Do I look like the kinda brother who takes doughnuts lightly?" Truth be told, I really don't care for them... but it made a good laugh.
---
Liz wants me to come work for her studio. I guess things are really taking off for her, and she needs somebody to do sales appointments and answer phones while she's off shooting. Basically, she needs a secretary, and now my afternoons are free (plus three days a week off) to go work for her too. Plus, if her latest senior marketing ploy succeeds, she'll need another shooter. Hope for photography is not lost! Plus, it'd be cool as hell to work for her.
She's getting married this summer. I promised to her that I wouldn't bring my camera and be that annoying guy who bugs everyone (and the hired photographer), but c'mon, you know me. I am so bringing at least a point-and-shoot. ;-)
----
You know, the news media needs to stop using the word 'blasted' when politicians criticize each other... unless it actually comes down to some good old-skool congressional fist shaking and deep chest bellowing on C-SPAN, or straight up fisticuffs. 'Blast' is too extreme, and its overuse is sucking the intensity out of the word. When I think of a BLAST!, I think of those guys that demolish skyscrapers, mines that obliterate mountainsides in one TNT swoop, Dark Haired Girl's alarm clock, or footage of that burning rocket fuel factory in Nevada that explodes like an atomic bomb.
What I don't think of is some redneck republican's anemic little two-line statement released to CNN expressing disagreement with Obama. That just does not a blast make.
posted by Grover at 4/14/2009 07:11:00 AM
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