Today:

I have:

... hauled my overtired arse out of the swag I'm currently sleeping on (complete with a golf ball and two lighters - no wonder my ribs are sore) and got to work at 6am. An accomplishment considering I am dealing with a three day hangover.

... stuck my hand into a rotten sweet potato. They have an acidic stench that burns at your nostrils. I don't reccomend it.

... had four boxes of apples descend in the direction of, and connect with, my head. One after the other. Fourteen kilograms in each. That's like having four two year olds thrown at your head. With pointy bits.

... removed rotten potatoes from the contents of a 50kg bag. You can tell there's a rotter in there when the bag gets a wet spot on the outside. That's one wet spot that I don't find appetising at all. Open it up, tip it all into a shopping trolley and then you find the culprit/s. Ususlly the bastards sprog all over the other potatoes - it's a foul cum-like substance that stinks enough to induce vomiting. I was over cum before I worked in this part of the industry but hell, seeing this stuff and smelling it would make anybody think twice about swallowing a mouthful of it ever again.

... been called the same name by the same guy that comes in at the same time every day. It just happens to be the same time that I clean the floors. I fucking well hate being called Sadie. John Farnham fucked it up for everybody who has ever cleaned around customers as far as I'm concerned. No matter whether I try to get it done earlier or later, he still walks in and calls me that fucking name. The old prick must hang out to hear the sound of the vacuum before he comes in.

... merrily dug through a bag of onions to pull out a few for an order, thinking about other things, when by feel I came across a maggoty rotter. Yummy.

I would like to:

... recieve at least three comments telling me that I'm a whinger and to get over it.

... get some spam telling me how to make my dick bigger (yep, got a long way to go there).

... read twenty posts about politicians I don't know doing things I don't care about.

... be told that I'm fat because I ate all the leftover pizza in the fridge.

... find another redback spider in the outside stuff that I have to pack into storage.

I will:

... go back to bed, jerk off, and attempt to go to sleep.