"No, I don't want a bite of your burrito, sicko!"

I got to see Aaliyah again briefly last night. I kept my distance because I've been battling a cold all week. She's still adorable. I'll post a pic next time.

By the way, the title of this post is a quote from my boss in response to the idiot she hired for the summer. He's the laziest piece of crap ever, and it continually pisses me off. He sits on his ass for hours at a time, reading, then gets up and says, "Well, I'm going on my break." I can't even look at him because I want to judo-chop his face off. Anyway, every day he goes to the store, buys 2 frozen burritoes, then lets them set out on the counter. After they've thawed a bit, he eats them, unheated. *shudders* He also goes to the bathroom about 8 times a shift, sometimes in there for 30 minutes at a time. So yesterday, he apparently asked my boss if she wanted a bite of his burrito, and that was her response.

I also had something bizarre happen at work yesterday. Before I begin, let me just have all of you who don't really know me, pretend that my last name is Smith, and also pretend that it's uncommon. (The rest of you can read along substituting Smith for my real last name.) Ahem. So, I'm working at the circ desk when this young woman comes in. She's very pretty, dressed all in black, with this charcoal gray houndstooth print hat. I ask if I can help her, and she says in this quiet, soft voice, "Yes, I'd like to use the computer." And I can hear an accent, possibly French. So I ask if she has a library card or if she's just a visitor.
Frenchy: Well, I'm with the Smiths.
Me: What?
Frenchy: The Smiths. You know, the Smiths?
Me: Uh, I am a Smith.
So I'm thinking she's staying at the house of some of my family members at first. Then I realize she means a band. And I'm also beginning to think that her accent sounds incredibly fake. Also, the entire time she's talking, it's like she's putting on a performance--elaborate gestures, cutesy expressions, etc.
Frenchy: Yes, we played in Rice Lake last night. And tonight, we travel to St. Paul to perform. But we'll come back here after that.
(Please picture every other word punctuated with a wave of the hand, a tilt of the head, anything theatrical you can think of...except no jazz hands.)
Me: Uh-huh... Okay, well...
Frenchy: I love it!
Me: Yeah, well, I'm sure... It sounds like fun, huh?
Frenchy: I have no complaints.
Me: Okay.
Frenchy: (leaning in super close, staring into my eyes) I have no complaints...at all.
Me: Er...you can go on a computer now.

I'm telling you, it was freaking weird!! Also, when I acted out this conversation to my mom and sister, and I imitated Frenchy leaning in really close for that final line, my mom insisted I never do it again because she felt like stabbing me in the eye.