Don't order this.
I thought I had asked for a chicken salad sandwich (chik sal san in waitress-speak), but apparently I must have said "I'd like a mayonnaise sandwich, please" instead (goop sal san). It was still a better choice than the haggis. Yes, the crapeteria really served haggis today (which, as I understand it, is made from stuff that can't be used for hot dogs: hooves, horns, bits of fur, eyelids, gums, etc.). I saw some in the grocery store the other day, in this sort of plastic sausage-y tube-y contraption (like how you can buy pre-made polenta if you're too cuisine-ally challenged to stir cornmeal). One thing I will not miss about the UK: Looking at food products and wondering "What the fuck is that?" And I come from the land of chorizo.
Other things I won't miss:
- The weather
- The evening "news" that leaves you feeling that nothing is going on anywhere in the world but tells you every time Tony Blair farts
- People looking at me like I'm a cloven-hooved, horned demon from deep in the sulfurous bowels of hell when they hear me speak (this is why I need a "Fuck y'all - I'm from Texas" shirt, which I still haven't been able to locate on the internet)
- The weather
- People looking at me like I've recently escaped from the local idiot-farm when I smile at them
- Arguing with Microsoft Word about how sometimes I want to spell American style, sometimes I have to spell British style, and sometimes I like to make up new words.
The maintenance dude brought three space heaters in yesterday, bringing our total number of space heaters in the office up to four. I'm currently sitting on one while I'm typing.
I want to get one of these when I get home, because then I'll never have to run an errand again. There will be bloody fist fights about who gets to go to the liquor store (can't send the monkey for that) or to the gas station to get a new dog.
That mayo-wich is not sitting well. It's all churny in there.
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