The Neds in McHell

It's later in the evening and as I stand at my grill I hear the unremarkable sound of a drunken Scotsman at the counter. Things were slow so I stood at the production bin in the pool of water from the backed up drain to look. Work is safe like that.

At the counter raving like a maniac is a young man no older than 18 years old. Fag (as in smoke) in one hand and dripping blood from the other.

"I cunt feel the finders on me han!" He performed obviously messed up and in shock. Roughly translated this means:

"I cant feel the fingers on my hands!"

He harasses customers accusing them of doing it to him and runs outside with the other cook, Mark, who is pressing McD® Napkins against his hand. The Police question him for a while before the NHS ambulance arrives and takes him away. I got to mop up his blood all over the lobby with the red bucket. Which according to The Manager's Bible is for the kitchen only, but I couldn't resist the similitude.

Nobody found out how it happened but it is interest to note that he had some hardcore hickies until any I've ever received. And I've made out with some pretty rough guys. Odd.

Moderated Journal

I want to be able to moderate my livejournal friends list. Users who write dumb posts can have less visual prevalence on my list, maybe forced behind an lj-cut or something. Those who write well can get summaries of all their recent posts or somehow become more prevalent.

I know all this could be done with the Blogger XML-RPC but I'm both lazy and low on spare time these days.