This post is for you, P. Diddy*.

In the event that you ever stumble across this blog, this is proof that I don't always talk bad about you, no matter how often I call you a bastard at work.

Today was fairly uneventful. I worked, as usual. Whoever decided working during the hours of 7-4 was a good idea should have a size 11 boot shoved firmly up their ass. Bastards. The only plus side of the day is that while I was supposed to work the shift alone, my supervisor made it a point to come in and keep me company.

Most of that time was spent with me serving as a look out while he "meditated", but I was grateful for the company anyway. He's really not so bad to talk to, especially when no one else is around. (See that? I just complimented you. In a back handed kind of way, but it was a compliment none the less!)

Thank you for your help today, P. Diddy. You know I like when you come in to keep me company. No matter how much I try to convince you otherwise. =)



* So because I'm kind of a dork (simple, as he once put it), when I first started at my job, I thought it was hilarious to call my boss P. Diddy. Not to his face, of course. And unless he stumbles across this, he'll never be any wiser. But in an effort to keep his identity private, I've decided to revert back to that nickname for the purpose of this blog.