a has adopted no words, looked up 0 words, created 0 lists, listed 74 words, written 1 comment, added 0 tags, and loved 0 words.

Comments by a

  • spam

    August 28, 2010

Comments for a

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  • I like your comment about sev.

    December 28, 2011

  • Seriously?!??!! You would thimk that would be taken.

    October 30, 2010

  • ummmm about how long has a been on wordie?

    October 29, 2010

  • "a has added 23 lists containing 1,149 words, 379 comments, 4 tags, 20 favorites, and 76 pronunciations."

    September 5, 2010

  • They are! Awesome, a!

    June 22, 2010

  • Are you making those calligrams? They are amazing!

    June 22, 2010

  • Sweet! Thank you, a!

    June 22, 2010

  • I like your update to "more about a."

    June 21, 2010

  • Yay! *Bells dinging, hands clapping*

    April 7, 2010

  • Wow, what a story! I just woke up and now I think I'll go back to bed.

    ;-)

    March 13, 2010

  • Glad you're here too, bilby.

    March 13, 2010

  • My relationship with pancakes is as follows.

    My first job, real job, paying more than odd cents in the strawberry-juice-stained palm of a summerlabour pimpleton, was in a pancake restaurant. It was located in the centre of Melbourne in the flagship Bourke Street Mall. It was called 'The Pancake Parlour' - despite parlour being a known euphemism for illegal brothel - and its logo featured the image of wavy-haired dryad saying 'Lovely!' as if she were ripped on magic mushrooms marinated in avgas.

    I started as a dishwasher and finished, maybe seven months later, as a dishwasher. In between I washed dishes at a furious pace and eventually became known as the Gun Dish-hand of Bourke Street. Not really. There were Chefs (chef is an English word meaning university dropout who can flip pancakes), Waitstaff (waitstaff is a Hindi word meaning unemployed foreigner) and Dishwashers (dishwasher is an Australian word meaning Untouchable). The system was such that Waitstaff would approach Customers pausing at Please Queue Here sign and guide them to slimy booths. Orders would be taken, written in triplicate - one for Chef, one for Taxman, one for God of Abysmal Lunches - and the Customer urged to purchase a Drink: example: White Coffee for Listening, Black Coffee for Talking. Drinks were Good Business. Cup for Regulars, Mug for Punters Having Nervous Breakdown. Next, Waitstaff would clear dishes from vacant tables and return them to wash-up area with such violent disdain that parfait glasses would break and slash hands of Dishwasher. This, according to a manager who had such a long moustache that it covered his name tag and I never found out who he was, was Unfortunate.

    Meanwhile Chefs were busy Cooking. This mysterious art involved swearing just loud enough for customers to wonder if Scriptures were being invoked, required the regular splatter of batter upon a hotplate and Orders being called as they were Fulfilled. As I have never in my life achieved any kind of substantial fulfillment, I reminisce about this time with some nostalgia. Shinta - short stack with mushrooms! Shinta was Waitstaff with Pertness and Asian Heritage and at the time I was very interested in same. Music to my ears, from what I could hear above the whirring of the dishwashing machine. Alfonso - cheese special! Mary - buckwheat with whipped butter! Shinta - tall stack twice! Shintaaaaaaaaaaa! I can see her still as she dumps another tray upon the stainless steel bench, shattering plates with her intensity. Perhaps it was contempt. I pull the handle again. Another load goes through. The machine whines. I discard another pair of useless latex and bleed into a bin of half-eaten pineapples and irradiated marshmallows. The nameless, faceless shift manager comforts me. "It's not your fault," he says. I never knew Shinta's other name. She exists only in jeans, regulation waitress-fade; t-shirt, Lovely yellow, stoned; blue pumps, squidging on the grease that had accumulated on the tiles come late-shift; and the fear of too many Fulfilled Orders cascading over the front counter. If only I had had Hindu god pedigree, or a glossier vinyl apron, I might have stood a chance.

    March 13, 2010

  • Glad you're here, a.

    March 11, 2010