:: Electric Psychedelic Pussycat Swinger's Club ::

:: Sunday, September 12, 2004 ::

cross the T's and dot the... lower case J's

Ever have a conversation with someone that's cross-eyed? It's confusing as hell, isn't it? Do you even try to make eye-contact with them, and if so, which eye?

Well there's this hispanic guy that works at the Mcdonald's on 1st Avenue. He's cross-eyed, and by cross-eyed I don't mean just one eye, I mean both eyes look in completely different directions, neither of which is straight ahead. Not to be mean or anything, but this guy would seriously give Sloth from Goonies a run for his money for most messed up eyes.

I dread every time I have to order from him as I get totally confused as to where I should look. So I settle on staring at his nose. Why can't McDonald's make it policy to require such hires to wear a 'special uniform' consisting of a pirate's patch over one eye and a parrot atop his shoulder that shouts "SQUAWK! LOOK AT THE LEFT ONE, SQUAWK!"?

Now that would be helpful.

What I don't get is how, out of all the other people with normal vision who work the grills, McDonald's chooses the one person with fucked-up fish eyes to man the job that requires handling money and counting change.

"I'm lovin' it."

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