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Also, right at my workplace, Granfather took a dump there. (And later on in this update you will reallize why in retrospect I dont feel as nearley as bad about this as I might). But anyway right outside of the ground floor restrooms we have glass partitions arround the cubicols with those crack-and-peel vinyl lettors that spell out the people's names who sit there that stick to the glass and after this particoulor and rather legendery (even for Granfather) four-flushor they no longor did. The glue lost its stickyness and friggin slid off and onto the carpet. And where they hit the carpat the carpet was ruined. Also a cuople of scorpions out in the parkin lot died. Thats how BAD it smells when he lets a load loose. I am NOT making this up. Some things I do exaggorate I admit it, but im not doin it now.
Later my boss walked by and looked at the melted streaks of adheasive on the glass in the place of the disengaged vinyl letters and (he did have allot to drink at the party) said "did somone let snails loose in here or somthing?".
Like I said my boss (like allot of people at the party) was slightley drunk. He did tell me in a haughtey mannor that one day in the near future hed be both free of me AND granfather and I wondored if it meant I will be fired. (there was already rumors of layoffs).
In any case I am doing my best. Even if my best hapens to extremeley suck. At the party, I said to my boss that I have alot of personal problens and home and are struggling with a poorself esteem problem and these aditional work rellated anxeities were NOT helping me any. And he said to SHUT UP and GROW UP. I know he had like 4 beers so he had a harsh edge to him and mabye he didnt mean it. Plus hes only like 28 which is too yuong to be somones boss. All I want is annother chance.
Even though it was a mostley fun party the whole time I had that feeling where your stomoch feels heavy and also you get a sore throat not from being sick but becouse you feel bad.
Well the court voted NO, and certain family members like Granfather's 2 brothers, plus my brother and his wife were devastated. Because, it sadly seems, a step away from consensual youthenasia is 2 steps away from non-consencual youthennasia. My poor brother, uncles and sister-inlaw live for the happy day that Granfather can be legally put to sleep.
And aparently the old bastord knows abuot the secret family plans to one day bring him to the Nethorlands as a landed immagrint in the hopes that he can be declared unworthey of life by the Court of the Haige and sentenced to a humaine yet dignified passing at the recieving end of a Number 16 needle. To hear my brother describe it, earlier in the month he wrote a nasty e-mail to the pestilent old bastord, (with me and Dad c.c.e'd), where he expressed his sinceare wish for the last thing on this earth for Granfather to see before death to be an unatractive Dutch nurse in wooden orthopeadic shoes leaning over him saying in a thick acent,
"GO HEAD AN' TRY TO BRING ME TO HOLLAND" says Granfather. "IF'N I WUZ STUCK IN A DANM COUNTRY WHERE FOLKS PUT MAYONNAIZE ON FRENCH FRYES, WHY I'D UP AN KILL MUHSELF B'FORE THEM DOCTORS COUD."
Of cuorse hes kidding. Hed probly just cut a danm giant fart at the moment of death that woudnt just kill all the tulips but woud bust open the dykes too, and also make all the windmills way out to the border of Belgain Flemland twirl in the opossite direction. And you think I am kidding about this too and I am NOT.