*rubs his footpaws*

(No, you furverts, I'm not catering to your sick footpaw fetish; I need to get new shoes.)  Work sucked tonight.  It was busy all night, and, about 45 minutes before close, one of the managers slipped and injured her leg.  So, we limped on and started closing and such, but we were so behind we didn't get to start cleaning up and stuff until about midnight, when the place closes.  We got out at 2:06am because of that.  Oh well, I ended up snagging a Double Quarter Pounder (no cheese, as I didn't feel like questing for it), a McNugget, and a couple of those Chicken Selects.

Edit:
It seems that Stalking Cat has made this week's News of the Weird (the middle of the page).

Stuff on the gay front

All through my shift at work, the other employees call each other fags or gay or some equivalent, and no one says much, unless they want to be a bit childish and say something like, "Jamie called me a fag," to whichever manager is there.  They've yet to accuse me of such, but I'm not gonna take it if it does happen.  I've been called a fag too much to put up with it anymore.  Anyway, one of the employees said something to the effect of "hotter than a nigger in a KFC."  Well, the manager says, "Nigger?  That's kind of harsh."  I almost turned to him and replied, "And 'fag' isn't?"  (This was after close, while we were cleaning up, so no one that could be offended was there.)

Thursday, I was at my grandma's house washing my work clothes, when she starts pestering me about being quiet at work and elsewhere.  Eventually, the questioning/pestering gets to "Aren't there any girls you want to go out with?"  Of course, I replied with a "No."  After that, she asks, "Are there any guys you want to go out with?"  I quickly replied with "No."  She clarified a moment later that she meant go out with guys as in going out with friends. 

My grandma's suspected me of being gay before and blatantly asked me.  That was several years ago before I really admitted it to myself.  I sort of knew at the time that I was/am gay, but I still responded with "I'm not gay."  I also spent the rest of that evening thinking, "Am I gay?"  The answer I kept coming up with, but not accepting, was, "Yes."

That ended up rambling.

Anyway, love ya, bloodwolves.  Good luck with your job.