paid for dearly

on days that i haven't slept well or really, really, really, really don't want to be at work, i allow myself a treat unlike any other on the planet, one which i usually deprive myself of, though i'd like to have it every day: a donut. not just any donut, either, but a krispy kreme donut with chocolate icing. for those of you not in the know, a krispy kreme with chocolate icing isn't only iced in chocolate--it's glazed beforehand. so it's literally this ball of chocolate sugar glaze--deep fried.

today, my friends, is one of those days. is it counterintuitive, eating a donut on a day when i know that my metabolism is already probably going to have a problem, a day when i haven't slept and so my crohn's is going to kick into high gear? i suppose i've answered my own question. but i just finished the donut and goddamn was it good.

i rolled into the hospital this morning having just formulated my donut-procurement plan. the only downside to eating the donut, besides the fact that it undoes all the ab workout you did in non-gay abs this week, is that you have to deal with the motherfucking cocksucking twat-licking baby raping grandma murdering asshole bitches that run the coffee/donut counter in the cafeteria. now, i'm used to people being unfriendly. i live in baltimore, after all, where every person in the service industry, from rite aid to mcdonalds, thinks they're doing you a grand favor by waiting on you. however, these ladies at the donut counter are just off the chain, as they would say.

usually they're just gruff. no smiles, no thank you. just like a change machine, but a change machine with a bad weave. today, though, the lady was an outright bitch:

"hi, i'd like a chocolate-glazed donut." (clear enough, right?)
"what kin'?" (hateful, HATEFUL look)
"excuse me?"
"i SAID what KIN'?"

um, wait, what kind of chocolate-glazed donut do i want? how about the fried kind? the friend kind with chocolate on it? at this point, the other lady behind the counter, the one who apparently wasn't using the same tampon for the fourth day in a row, says, "she means do you want -mumblemumblemumble- chocolate or honey dip'."

"i'm sorry," i say. "what was the first thing?"

the first lady, a.k.a. four-day-tampon, does this grand-gesture eye-roll, like i'm this huge inconvenience even though there's no one in line behind me.

"double dutch chocolate," she says.
"honey dip," i say, no inflection in my voice.

she goes to get the donut, then without looking at me--i don't know what's so interesting about the cafeteria tray return--she says, "ninety-nine cent'," with a sigh. i hand her my dollar--insisting on giving her the money before she gives me the donut just to make things a little harder for her--and walk off without saying thank you or waiting for my penny.

this, dearest readers, is another reason i have to move. soon. like now. srsly.